Downhill

There's just something about the coast. Something about the way the sky and sand and water dance together and create the illusion of falling into each other. Something about the way that the expanse creates a feeling of longing and emptiness while filling me up. Something about the sound of the wind and waves that instills an inner quiet.

I went to the Antrim coast with several of my girl friends this past weekend. We brought food and wine and chocolate and books and journals and craft supplies. Fully armed for a peaceful get-away retreat. We stayed at a charming hostel tucked into a cliff and set towards Downhill beach.


I enjoyed the lazy walks. The type of walk that says I'll take my time. This is not a walk to burn calories. This is not a walk to divert my attention or reach a goal. This is a stroll for the sake of the moment. To soak in the scenes of the waterfalls cascading off the cliffs and hurdling towards the sea. To pick up shells, knowing I'll have nowhere to put them besides my coat pocket or nothing practical to really do with them. But to pick them up anyways because they are pretty, and who knows? Isa, Adriana's 8 year old daughter chatters excitedly about this one or that one and I smile remembering being her age and running up to my Mom or Dad with my latest sea treasure. We stumble up on a rock full of live mussels and barnacles and this is a whole world unto its own. We are explorers.

After a pasta dinner, wine, conversation and a mean game of Monopoly with Heather and Isa (Heather and I decided we were going to become Marxists after facing Isa's shamelessly aggressive capitalistic ventures), I fell into a fitful sleep and woke up to a sunny day in Ireland. How about that? I felt the sign was a bit ambitious though.

I ventured out for a solo exploration of Mussendon Temple and the Dowhill Castle ruins. I tried to imagine what it looked like in its glory in the 1800's like they always do in the movies, but was left with the haunting shell, lovely still. My little sister Jenae told me when she visited Ireland that she wanted to explore a castle with furniture. None of us were really sure what she was getting at but this was not the castle for her in any case.

I sat on a rock near the edge of the cliff and watched the white birds circle the heights. I dawdled in a moment of existentialism but then went back to treading the castle grounds and taking in the views. When I returned, the rest of the girls reassembled eventually and we began collaging with old National Geographic's and travel magazines. The fruits of my labor are now hanging in my room. I miss crafts! Another legacy my grandmother and mother have passed along to me.

A lovely two day excursion.