MeliGoesRogue

I keep seeing doors. I’m not sure if it’s because my wonderful mother has now created a folder in my mind for doors but the interesting thing is they are always open and they are hidden. They are calling me and the desire to answer is so strong that I wonder what I am missing when I miss walking thru.

I went to a place called Bantry House and Gardens today. It’s an old estate that has been passed on thru generations. I noticed that people would walk up the path and when it it would fork they always went to the left, towards the house. Yet again the call for me came from the right, the rustling trees lured me and the fragrant flowers called my senses to come hither

I began to walk on this gravelly path when from the corner of my eye I saw Red. That I know is my mother’s training. I happened upon a small bridge that didn’t lead anywhere but for some strange reason I hid among the trees gazing at the bridge wishing  it to be a magical bridge that actually did lead somewhere- maybe somewhere I couldn’t see with my eyes.

If I believed in fairy tales I’d say it was the kind of bridge that would leave me to the enchanted forest. Alas as I do not believe in fairy tales I was forced out of my hiding place and back to the path, I continued my hike upwards. I never wondered where it lead, my eyes were immersed in the green and my eyes forced to acclimate to the little light that escaped the density of the treetops. I pressed on knowing that walking in Ireland had proved fruitful before and would again. Now I must say the corners of my eyes have the most amazing sight because wouldn’t you know it they saw something again. This time it couldn’t have been helped….the open door  would have come sooner or later. But like Roger “I wonder… and yet I wonder” the door could only be seen by those willing to go thru the forest.

So perhaps the vision of the door was not as I had originally thought meant for all, perhaps it is more the reward for the brave souls who see the forest for the trees. Well today it was just me, I wandered those trees for a few hours resting upon their trunks and yet no other foot steps did I hear. As I descended the 100 shale steps to the garden below the trees shook once more bidding me farewell and silently praying for my heart. What heights those trees reach and what depths they showed me lies within.

The second half of my day was filled with boats,seals, dolphins and towers. I boarded the Harbour Queen at half past 1, I would expect nothing less than a ferry called the queen for me. Anyways it took me across a very cold and windy Bantry Bay (where yummy mussels come from ) along the way we saw some seals that were sunbathing on what seemed to be a floating rock covered in moss.

As I began snapping pictures the old Irish man driving the boat turned down to me and called me to their other side, I jumped over quickly realizing he trekked these waters each day and would know better than I were my eyes should be. To my surprise and utter delight beautiful Dolphins were swimming alongside the boat. They were so close to the boat that if the window opened I probably could have touched one of them.

We arrived a few minutes later at Ilnacullin. She’s a small island that is an entire garden. Another amazing recommendation from my B&B host. I wish I was a better poet, and I now find that even the words of great poets who lived and breathed the air I am now breathing fall short of what it truly is. The island taught me so much but mostly it showed me that I am capable of more than I believe I am. The trail goes thru 90% of the island the other 10% being apparently excavated land that was never completed by the original owner who used to call it home.

I have learned that those mountains I love to look at are mounds of land calling for climbers and ramblers. Heights seem to be in my itinerary as everywhere I turned another hill demanded my balance and my feet. At the top of the highest hill lied the “Martello Tower” it was originally built by the British War Office as a lookout type structure and therefore required it to be high enough  to see the island and all the waterways leading to it. In other words it’s high as….damn I couldn’t come up with a good pun. Anyway it’s high…so I start climbing and climbing and climbing….nope still climbing, ok truth time I stopped like twice on the way up to catch my breath and make sure I really needed and wanted to go all the way up. Unfortunately persistence seems to be my word for the year so guess what I did…I climbed, I climbed till I reached what I thought was the top (I learned during my first hike the best way to climb a hill is to not look up- it’s way too daunting and it reminds you how far you still have to go) so as I got to the ‘top’ I found that what lies before me is a couple of hundred stone steps.

I’m not even going to say what I did when we all know…so when I got to the top I walked towards this round stone tower with tiny heads poking out the top. I climbed up the stairs and found someone’s living room, there was a fire place and very very very old cookware and alcoves to sleep in and then I panned around to find a very very very small spiral staircase which would lead me to the top.

The hesitation that I had once had, disappeared. I could not have arrived here to simply say no I’m too tired or it’s too hard. I pulled my satchel (yeah I said satchel)to my front as we would not fit with it on my side and I grabbed the ice cold stones and began to ascend very slowly…in the dark. After what seemed an eternity..one I could never go back down, all at once there was light. It did not trickle in but it shine heavy and bright. The top revealed a 360 panaromic view that congratulated me wholeheartedly.

I stayed up there for awhile, long enough for the patrons that came after me to leave and then I descended back into the darkness yet this time seeing only the light.
The tower was the final stop on the tour and as I walked back to the Quay to catch the queen back the light shine and I realized that the road which I had traveled upon did not feel my footsteps twice. My circle was complete and the water was summoning me for departure. Yet as I rode that red and white boat back safely to Harbour I realized that I double back on the same path in my life too many times. The ground is paved with my footsteps and now reverse seems acceptable and even…comfortable. I need to pave new roads with my feet and that’s what this trip is. I didn’t realize it at first but this dirt has been calling my tread for sometime, it was only when I allowed myself to see the light like in the spiral staircase that I could see there was no other way but up, for what lies behind and below me was already known and would still be there upon my return.

Ok now that I’ve gotten all the deep stuff out off the way- it’s time for the superficial stuff everyone actually cares about. So on my plane ride over I read a letter that listed several tasks…I am determined to complete them all, however I must disclose one of the the items is to kiss a boy. I assume the boy must be Irish although it was not specified. So how do I complete this task… I have been on a secluded peninsula in Ireland and have been frequenting a local pub. This pub you see has a handsome red headed Irish man- have I told you about Irish men…oh really well allow me the pleasure.
Irish men are built like actual men. Coming from Miami I see a lot of boys who build their bodies to look like men, while men here just work and live and look like men who can raise cattle and a family. I’ve been looking for a man like that – I doubt this bartender is the mountain meant to be climbed but surely he is a valley to be enjoyed. As I stand in the shadow of his stature I feel his strength even thought it is hidden. You know what else these men have…the ability to drink like men and they told me my stomach holds their Irish ways very well. I hope he meant I drink my pint well but I won’t be embarrassed if he meant something else.

Here is the pub, its beer garden and its wonderful patrons. Now its a tin pub meaning its made of tin yet somehow what lies within those walls is not a good pint and a fair glass of whiskey but rather a community that gather round to share as a family would around a dinner table.