On the last day of October 1923, a man was waiting by the old dock for his mate just as dawn was breaking. He had walked all the way from Blacksod Point, a distance of almost four miles, to go out into Elly Bay to lift the two herring nets they had cast the night
Back in the 1980s my brother lived in Michigan and loved to fish. He couldn’t come home because there was no Green Card but we loved to open the presents he sent. My sister got a quilted jumpsuit and I got a fishing rod and a few lures. One dark rainy night in March, while
There is a certain point in any conversation with a local, where my lack of knowledge of a particular person or place makes it obvious that I am not a native of these parts. “Where are you from?” “Galway.” “What part?” “Salthill.” “You must miss the sea…” Of course, I do miss the sea –
I have lived with a goddess all my life. She is full of surprises; her twists and turns spectacular, unpredictable. Sometimes she looks hollow and lean timid and shy, sometimes brimming full, bubbling over. Always changing. Never ever quiet though. In the past there were times when her anger raged, erupting escaping onto the streets.
If Rivers could talk what stories they would have to tell, good and bad. Unfortunately they can’t – at least, not in language we can understand – so we have to tell their stories ourselves. I’m from Bray in County Wicklow, and like anyone else from the town I have plenty of stories about the
She looked into the screen and waved goodbye to her students. Closing her textbook, she switched off the laptop, the diminishing icon heralding the end to her online classes for the day. Her mood was unusually low, these were strange times after all. Perhaps some fresh air might lift the heaviness from her mind. The
The River Feale rises in the Mullaghareirk Mountains in Rockchapel, Co Cork, flows through Limerick into Kerry, finally emptying into the sea at the Cashen near Ballybunion. It is a fast flowing spate river subject to flooding in persistent rainfall, large, deep fish holding pools dominate the river seabed. The final six miles is called
On the border of East Mayo and Roscommon a little river rises in the hills. It winds past old cottages, trickles under grassy Boreens and loops around fields full of livestock. Eventually it meets the mighty River Moy and joins the Atlantic Ocean at Killala. This tiny Mayo river runs on two sides of my
The Nore Swim always proves to be a highlight in my summer calendar. It is organised by the Kilkenny branch of Water Safety Ireland. Various local charitable organisations benefit from the donation of the registration fee. In 2019, the Nore Dragon Paddlers Womens Breast Cancer Survivors Team was the worthy recipient. My cousin paddles with
Sligo is the Shelly Place, on the Little Rough River that runs, short and fast, from the Bright Lake to the shining sea where Eva Gore-Booth’s ‘little waves of Breffni’ lap gently on the shore. Sligo is ‘the holy mountain (Ben Bulben) whose mighty heart gathers into it all the coloured days’ of Seamus O’Sullivan’s
A docile giant with fringed hooves cropped tail, strong leather harness and long thick rope slowly pulled a wooden barge into the harbour. On the bank, a waiting crowd of paupers, priest and gentry cheered, celebrated and applauded its arrival. The barge was secured and, as the passengers disembarked, the drone of bagpipes was heard
Fado, fado, when i was a young one, I walked daily, hail, rain or snow, on the banks of the river barrow near Athy, in Co. Kildare. Walking the boundaries of Laoise and Kildare, the same route as my mother and grandmother had done before me. I still walk this beautiful river today. Early summer
To use this interactive map, click on a county to view the list of stories connected with it.