Before the End

Monday June 10^th

Got to Quigleys Point at 8.30 am and started the long climb up the hill.  At the top I came on a memorial plaque at the side of the road.  It was even more moving than the many others I had come across.  This one was for three young people who had all been travelling in one car and had been hit by another vehicle and killed on October 8 2005.  Their pictures were looking out at me written beside their names, Gavin Duffy aged 21, Charlene O’Connor 21, David Steele 23, Rochelle Peoples 22, Darren Quinn 21.  I stood there for some time and reflected on the tragedy of these young people whose lives were snuffed out like burning candles on the cusp of their adulthood and the pain of that for their families and friends then and now.

It was another beautiful day on my last long leg of the walk.  The sun shone on me and a soft breeze from the east gently urged me on, or was it that same little angel come to see me home, that had caressed me and whispered around my ears on the first two days of my walk in West Cork.  There is something exhilarating about walking along a quiet road high up with beautiful views all around.  I passed a field with a flock of sheep with magnificently whorled horns like antlers.  I could imagine them frequenting the ovine beauty parlour to keep them in shape and make themselves more attractive.  Other sheep with only little stumps must be so jealous.

I walked into Carndonagh about mid-day and found the Persian Bar in the centre of the town.  My hosts for that night, Anthony and Anne Diver, own the bar.  However, they were not there when I called.  I drank a shandy – half a pint of lager, half a pint of white lemonade and ice, a very refreshing drink on a long march.  It was only when I had walked about a mile out of the town that I realised that I had forgotten to pay for the drink.  Just outside Carndonagh a young man pulled up on the far side of the road and crossed over to talk to me.  He told me that when he was in university in England they had a house with a room to let and a female student from Malawi had been the first person to apply for it.  He said she was one of the loveliest people he had known and he wanted to give me a donation for the hospice.

I had only gone another mile or so when another car pulled up alongside me.  It was Maureen Morgan from Draperstown who is the central promoter of support for Ndi Moyo Hospice in these here parts.  She would not be able to be there at the end tomorrow and so wanted to see me near the end.  She had brought lunch with her so we sat in the car at a gateway and chatted and had lunch.  I had decided to leave just a few miles to finish the walk next day when Mary Ann and some of the children were to join me.  Mary Ann has been involved in the whole venture as much as I have been.  I could not have done it without her being at home to look after Niall, and she has done most of the work with the funding campaign and banking the money.  She has supported and encouraged me all along and we have talked to each other every day.  So it is important for her and me that she is there at the finish.  Besides rain is forecast for tomorrow and having walked in sunshine every day I did not fancy walking in the rain tomorrow.  I left 4 miles to the finish for tomorrow.

I had referred earlier in my blog to the profusion of buttercups every day of the walk and since I am not aware of any poem to buttercups I had promised to write one.  Here it is:

Buttercups

Buttercups are everywhere

Smiling up at me,

Gently waving in the breeze,

A cheerful sight to see.

Buttercups in ditches,

Buttercups in fields,

A richness of golden yellow

In overflowing yields.

The farmer doesn’t like them,

But they refuse to go away,

So better just enjoy them.

They are here to stay.