Durrus pier

A day out with Hersellf hunting for holy wells somewhere in the Gaeltacht (Irish speaking) area around Ballyvourney.


Where small one-street towns appear deserted except for the twitch of lace curtains as strangers pass by.
Where the front-room post offfice talk is in huddled, rumour-laden whispers.
Where the 'English woman looking for wells' distracts the octogenearian from his dinner.
Where the unfamilair faces in the cafe shift the conversation from the weather.
Where intimate knowledge of fields and lanes, gates and byres has been passed down and down through generations.
Where the land is still intimately connected to belief, tradition and identity.


We drove back with the setting sun in our eyes stopping briefly nearer to home to catch the final drama.