CONNEMARA – A BIT OF MAGIC

The West Coast of Ireland famous for it’s epic landscape and rugged terrain.                It is splintered by the Atlantic Ocean’s tireless persistance as it lashes mercilessly against the coastline. small islands, peninsulas, ports and small sandy coves and tiny beaches peperred along it. Home to the famous Wild Atlantic Way. Living in this beautiful wildly romantic region is a magical experience, bound by the Atlantic and Lough Corrib, rugged rocky wilderness, patchy fields crisscrossed with stumbling drystone walls, majestic mountains, peat-dark lakes and wind swept expanses of blanket bog. On a bright sunny day very few places in the

world can compete with it.
When the notorious Atlantic weather closes in and wraps everything in a
thick, damp sea mist or when gales lash the coastline in a fabulous frenzy it
conjures the aura and mystical magic of Connemara. Much like a love story,
it can be romantic and beautiful, fulfilling, adorable, attractive, magical,
special and awesome all at once. However, the other side of this love affair
can be wild, wet, stormy, overcast, unrelenting, dark and lonely at the same
time. Growing up in this environment, you become very aware of your
surroundings and the constant changes and moods it creates. This teaches
you to broaden your deeper acceptance and understanding of your
surroundings and the complexities that come with it. I believe this improves
your balance as a human being.
My childhood and upbringing were garnered in these settings and
surroundings. It was a part of who I was and who I was to become. Speaking
my native language, living in Connemara on the rugged coastline,
surrounded by granite and boglands and the Atlantic Ocean. Here were my
roots, my foundations, my origins and my birthplace.
When I left home in the early morning I was facing into the sun as it rises
in the east, when I headed home in the evening, I was facing the sun as it
sets in the west. The same applies to the Moon. As I travelled along the coast road to Galway City, I regularly witnessed the sea crashing across the road at Spiddel or Furbo in the midst of a violent storm, or the sun setting on Galway Bay as I drove home in the afternoon or early evening.

Connemara – Beauty and Beast.

Extract from my book ‘Mind Over Montains’.