Highway of Irish Highlands

By

sheep and lamb ink sketchThe road weaved in and out as the car drove towards the peak. I didn’t know what I’d find at the end. Much like my life, I was lost long before I reached the fork in the road. Yet I was certain beauty awaited me regardless of the path, because this was Ireland and, so far, she hadn’t disappointed me.

An hour later and not a single car or pedestrian had passed. Civilization seemed to have forgotten this long, unwinding road. I stuck my arm out the window letting my hand surf the wind but met only silence.

Every person who travels to Ireland will describe its green landscape, and they should because it’s as vast as the blue sky, but what struck me most was the silence.

Far from the cities and towns, hidden within the fields was a stillness disrupted only by the occasional breeze. It was as though the whole world had vanished and all that remained was a place void of humanity.

At the peak was a sign which read: Highlands of Glencar.

Again, the road weaved in and out only this time the car moved downward; then there were signs of life. Mother-sheep and her lamb climbed down the steep, jagged rocks. They moseyed across the road aware of a human presence, but otherwise indifferent.

When the car came to a stop, I hopped out with my camera and pressed the shutter button. Snap, snap, snap, snap! The mother-sheep glanced in my direction then continued downward.