We walked in the thin places.
From Clonegal to Dublin.
Passing fields, through forests, on gravel roads, rooted paths, over sheep gates, on mountain top highs, and along the streams in the valleys.
And where every turn—over the sometimes eleven hours by foot—each day seemed to say:
take this in,
feast with your senses,
and keep pressing for more.
The one hundred miles took my traveling companion, Kristin and I six days.
We packed our belongings on our back,
tackled more than four thousand elevation some days,
laid awake with an unrelenting throbbing in our feet,
and rose with the sun, ready for more:
More of the sheep bleating in their flocks,
their tufts of white dotting the hills.
More of the fog blanketed summits,
the cool mist clinging to grasses and brushing our faces.
More of the pubs holding centuries of stories,
with a bit of Jameson sweet under our noses and warm to our throats.
With the Wicklow Way complete, Ireland leaves me filled.
And yet, I can’t help but dream of the next path ahead.
Started: June 14th // Finished: June 19th
Wicklow Way, from Clonegal to Dublin
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