Skip to main content

The Hills

Image
By

In my years as a political activist I have had the unique opportunity to travel to many far flung places around the world.
I once flew in a tiny plane up the coast of Maine in the USA with its hundreds of off-shore islands. It was a bumpy, scary, white knuckle journey in a small two propeller machine. The scenery was reminiscent of the west of Ireland.
I have watched the colours change on the lakes of upper New York State, in the deserts and hills of Texas and Arizona, on the Rockies of Canada, the mountains of the Basque country, and the veldt of South Africa.
On one memorable visit to the outback of Australia I persuaded our hosts to let me walk alone some distance into the trees and scrub of the outback outside of Perth. The intensity of different smells from the flowers and trees and the sounds of birds and insects was truly amazing. And the snakes left me alone.  
But if truth be told I love West Donegal. That’s not to say that I don’t love west Belfast. Or Louth. The Belfast Hills are terrific. So is Sliabh Foy in the Cooley Mountains  
But there is nowhere quite like West Donegal. The hills and the mountains of that part of our island, from Muckish to Errigal, are among the most stunning in the world. The  glens and rivers and lakes, the seascapes of Bloody Foreland, the islands, the long walks along Donegal beaches, and the music, the Gaeilge and the people, all combine to make Donegal as close to perfect, as perfect can be, in this imperfect world.
As some of you may know last Friday was my birthday. Go raibh maith agaibh to all of you who sent best wishes. Or presents. Or if you didnt dont worry I wont refuse late offerings. Now that  I have reached the age of soixante-neuf- 69 - I intend to have a birth month so you still have time.
I remember Martin McGuinness saying once that he never thought he would live beyond his 25th year. I was the same. Most of our peer group were probably like that. Now I am in my 70th year. Poor Martin is gone. It’s a funny old world.
So at the weekend I escaped to Donegal for two days of gardening, singing, cooking, reading and walking. The autumn colours were everywhere. The heather clad highlands were resplendent with the textures of tweed. The big skyscape kept changing its shades from light to lighter and back to light again. OThere was a nip in the wind and the occasional rain – it is Donegal – but the weather for me was perfect.

The beauty and peace of Donegal is unrivalled. The history of Donegal can be found in every town and village, castle and big house, and in the ruins of homes long deserted, and thatched cottages from another time that have been preserved for this generation. 
My first recollection of Donegal is travelling there with my Saint Mary's class mates to stay for a month with the Boyle family in the Gaoth Dore Gaeltacht. We went there to practice our Gaeilge. I am still practicing over five decades later. And like so many others I keep returning to Donegal.
I wouldn’t care if I never saw another plane for the rest of my life. I have no wish to travel outside of our little island ever again. But travel I will. God spares me I know that. If you sign up you have to march.
But wherever my political wanderings take me the Hills are the place I want to be. I enjoyed my birthday. It was great craic. I am very lucky. For many reasons. But especially because I got to begin this week and my 69th year in the place I love. 
'I just dropped in to see you all.
I'll only stay awhile.
I want to see how you're getting on
I want to see you smile
I’m happy to be here again
I’ve missed you one and all
For there is no place else on earth

Just like the homes of Donegal'. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

There can be no preconditions

By
Blog January 21st 10 Apparently the DUP were sitting up at Stormont Castle on Thursday waiting for the Shinners to come and talk to them. Strange. This Blog had told Peter Robinson late the evening before that that phase of our discussions was over. I told him there would be a Sinn Féin national officer board meeting on Thursday and a report from Martin McGuinness on the negotiations would be discussed. The failure of the DUP thus far to come up to the plate during the current round of negotiations shouldn’t come as any great surprise. The DUP are looking over their shoulder at Jim Allister and then there are the ‘secret’ talks between the UUs and the DUP and talk of electoral pacts. That’s their own business and nothing to get too excited about. Except to note they told us they couldn’t do any business on the Sabbath – the very day they were busy on unionist unity business. But lest we forget the DUP was born out of the anti civil rights politics of the late 60s and the firebrand unio...
57 comments
Read more

Remembering Bobby Sands.

By
In 1973 just before midnight on Christmas Eve, I was caught along with three other comrades attempting to escape from Long Kesh. We were among a large group of men and women interned without charge or trial. My first bout of internment was on the Maidstone Prison Ship in 1972. Internees-the British later called us detainees as part of their fiction that internment was ended – were held in Armagh Women’s Gaol, Belfast Prison, Magilligan, and Long Kesh. In July 1974 I was caught again in another escape bid. Steve McQueen I was not. The following March 1975 I was taken out to court where I was convicted on the first escape attempt and received an 18 month sentence. A month later I was convicted of the second escape attempt and got another three years. Then as the rest of the internees were being released a small group of us nearly got-aways were moved out of the internee end of Long Kesh to the top end of the camp where the sentenced POWs were held. We were incarcerated in Cage...
Post a Comment
Read more

Best International Documentary | Defend the GPO and Save Moore St. | A Week in the Life and Death of GAZA

By
  Best International Documentary I spent the weekend in Galway and Mayo. The weather was amazing. The countryside with its miles of stone walls separating plots of land and the lush colours of green and rocky inclines was a joy to travel through. I was in Galway on Saturday to attend the Galway Film Festival/Fleadh where Trisha Ziff’s film – A Ballymurphy Man - was receiving its world premiere. The cinema in the old Town Hall where the Festival is centred was packed to capacity for the screening. The audience was hugely attentive and very welcoming when Trisha and I went on the stage at the end of the screening to talk about the making of the documentary. The next day I was in Mayo when Trisha text me to say that ‘A Ballymurphy Man’ had taken the Festival award for Best International Documentary. So well done Trisha and her team who worked hard over five years, with very limited funding to produce this film. In Mayo I met Martin Neary, who has bequeathed his 40-acre homeste...
Post a Comment
Read more