We left Bangor at 9AM.
Our first stop: The Grey Abby. Founded in 1149. Gothic arches, roofless ruins, sculptured memorials to men who gave entire lives to prayer.
On the road down the Ards peninsula toward Portaferry The mud flats at low tide in the lough are shimmering in the sun like glazing on pastry.
On the ferry to Strangford, the wind is whipping, eyes watering, the sound of gulls screeching, and the metal clanging as the cars roll of the ramp.
A stop in the wee cake shop for tea and scone with butter, cream, and jam.
Then on our way to Kiloghlea just like Van’s song. We can see in the distance the humped backs of the Mourns, black against silver sky and sliding into the sea.
Wising by the car window are
Heather-clumped fields of grass, wind-gnarled bushes,
Yellow-lichened rock shores and Stone-crumbled walls.
In Ardglass harbor sits two red-rusted tugs leaning over in the mud at low-tide. Around the point are manicured greens with eighteen flags whipping in the wind.
We stop at Dundrum Bay to hike through Dunes and out to the strand. The Dunes are covered in thick brown grasses and sit in clumps like a pride of wild cats.
A ring of burnt logs lays on the rough cobblestone strand. Dark clouds are making the sea turn black.
We return by pasture, passing brinded cows chewing patiently among the bluebells.
We reach Eniskinen House next to Tulleymore forrest, just under the Morn foothills. We hike the enchanted path down to the river past ancient trees.
On the way back we stop at Scrabo Tower built on a steep hill and overlooking the entire Ards peninsula. Strangford loch forms a vast shimmering water-plain below.
Back to Bangor, Onslow Gardens, where the air thin like the evening light. Thanks be to God for long Irish days.