Full Circle

I returned to Belfast to say goodbye a second time (I like 2nd-time around goodbyes because they are always more lighthearted than 1st-time goodbyes, and all the ones that come after). I came full circle, geographically speaking. And, I ended my trip with the rush it began with: rock climbing--it's like a discovery every time, like theatre, every time it is new.

On my very last day in Europe, I took the bus to Newcastle, a little seaside town an hour south of Belfast, overlooking Dundrum Bay. The weather was so good, I felt like a VIP. In Italy and Greece the mountain air was clean and fresh, but every country has its own smell, and nowhere in the world is the air so sweet as it is here. At bookends of my vacation, I took day-trips to the sea in Northern Ireland, and I noticed it last time too. As soon you get out of Belfast, and walk uphill, there is sugar in the air. Actually, I have this idea that the sweet air and and wet, hilly earth (moors) in Ireland makes people calm and sweet in disposition, the same way that the dry earth and strong sun in Greece makes people bold and friendly. 

I walked up Slieve Donard, which is the highest mountain in Northern Ireland. Near the top there was snow, and the waterproof on my boots had worn off some time ago. But I was very close to the top, so I had to continue. The even, moon-like look of the snow was deceiving. My feet kept sinking through the snow and ice into caverns of bog. It was terrible, my feet and pants were soaked, and before long I was shivering all over, but the day exquisite and I had to continue. I kept making excuses to continue when the really sensible thing to do would've been to go down the mountain and have a cup of tea in the town. 

I stopped to eat my sandwich. Then I remembered something I learned about equilibrium when I was climbing in Piemonte. It's not about muscle, it's about balance. You don't begin with movement. You shift all your weight, carefully and evenly, to one hip before moving to the next hold (or patch of snow). I applied the tactic, and while I looked very funny, it was very successful. I stopped falling into the bog. It felt very good, smooth and slow. I had to give it up at the very top, where it got too steep, and I gave it up on the way down, but it was a nice little exercise in patience while it lasted. 

There was an old ice house, partway up with a plaque. It read:
"Until refrigeration was generally available, people lived on seasonal fare, knowing that the abundance of one season had to make up for the deficiences of the next."

Walkers on hills nod to each other like bikers on the road. Ah, our eyes say, as we pass, I see you are one of us.