The Lonely Sea

Last week I drove up along the coast on a wild and windy day to take a friend to see the great places of Northern Ireland. We stopped at Carrick-a-Rede and crossed the rope bridge, trying not to look down at the raging sea below as the wind howled around us. And then we visited the Giant's Causeway where the high seas rolled in and crashed on the causeway stones and the air was full of spray (and most of my pictures turned out to be a bit misty looking because of the salt on my lens).

I remembered when I was younger I borrowed a book of Irish fairy tales from the local library. The story that lingered with me the longest was the tale of the Children of Lir who were turned into swans by their jealous stepmother. As swans they had to spend 300 years on Lough Derravaragh, 300 years on the Sea of Moyle and a further 300 on Inish Glora. The author described called the Sea of Moyle "lonely" and I imagined standing on an empty, rocky shoreline looking out at 4 swans on a grey sea under dark skies.

It was not until recently that I discovered that the Sea of Moyle is actually the narrow sea between Northern Ireland and western Scotland, and called the North Channel on modern maps. So my pictures today are (almost) from a fairy tale.

On calm, sunny summer days when the tourists arrive in bustling crowds the sea is friendly. But on stormy days when all that can be heard is the roar of the wind and waves and the few people that are out are muffled up in scarves and coats it is at its most lonely.

Weekend in Black and White

*Apologies for my lack of visits and comments recently. I have no internet access other than from the university library*