North, South, East, West …which is Best.

One thing’s for sure, arriving in vintage style  is always best, guaranteeing a warm welcome and plenty of chat or maybe even ‘craic’ as they say in these parts.

vintage rolls royceI  am aware of my sheltered, home-counties roots when arriving in the barren wilds of the West coast, I remember A’level Wuthering Heights where Cathy is withering about the easy pleasantness of the Home counties  and the Southern stock it produces unable to embrace her beloved dales: their raw, elemental beauty, their untamed wildness.  So it is as we pass through miles of brown loughs, withered trees and bare mountains, but at least the sky is blue (so say my Southern – Softie genes).loughs connemara

When you arrive it is empty.

beach connemara

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Further along the coast we all gasp, yes look closely.

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It starts to feel magical.

The air races into you and the dogs race ahead.

IMG_2188The colours are suddenly intense on barest rock and an Atlantic ocean seemingly underlit with turquoise, emerald and saffron.IMG_2180

I am pulled in, actually almost over in those winds, peering at blooming white and brilliant yellow on peat stone.

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Time to struggle back.

IMG_2181where suddenly the black stuff.

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makes perfect sense

as the dogs lie damp by the fire and oysters are your only man.

IMG_2172For a a Southern Softie , I could get used to this ‘West is best’ lark.

All the way back I am day dreaming of dark ‘drab’ grey with emerald green, smudges of yellow and a fresh lick of chalky white.

All photos taken by me.

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