As I promised my son, Conor, I drove to the top of the Conor Pass when I was in Ireland. As I stood there I took this picture. I didn't know what the Conor Pass was when I went there. I know what a "pass" is - a narrow place in the mountains through which one can "pass." This one, on the Dingle peninsula, was just above the town of Dingle. So I drove up and up and up outside the town. Colder and windier. Steeper and steeper. More and more sheep ON the road. They don't care. No fences. And of course I had the window open in the car. I rarely drove anywhere that I didn't have the window open so I'd always be able to smell Ireland, to feel Ireland, to experience the weather even in the car. So, Conor's Pass was at least 15 degrees colder than the land below. And as I stopped and looked over I saw the big deal. A huge, beautiful glacial valley looking over to the ocean on the other side of the peninsula. Amazing. Down below, hundreds of feet, there were small lakes left behind by the retreating ice and ruins of ancient civilizations. I stood there for a while, took several photos, let the wind pelt my face, took it in, and drove back down and on back to Killarney for the night. Once again, I'll have these memories forever. Good thing. Better than saying what I knew better than to say in public.
October 14, 2006
> 9:03 PM
038
