I still wasn’t sure that we were at the right place. The sign indicated that we were but I was expecting a large paved parking lot certainly with more activity. This was a small dirt one with one lone car. This place, Curracloe Beach, apparently was one of the best beaches on the Irish coast made famous by starring in the opening scenes of Saving Private Ryan. My canine friend Jumble was beginning to stir so I really hoped that the sign was correct. I had been lost driving up and over hills for what seemed like ages.  Meandering on winding roads like I had never experienced before. Little did I know at that time that I had yet to learn the true meaning of ‘winding’ . Such beautiful countryside. Stunning views of rich green rolling hills, some fields appearing almost florescent under the rays of sunlight. Narrow roads dipping in and out of valleys, stone bridges barely wide enough for one car, sometimes a cluster of houses at the bottom of the hill with maybe a small postoffice and shop all in one. No one else on the road just Jumble and I ambling along. Cows and sheep- grey stone walls separating the fields into neat and tidy squares. Tall hedgerows and moss covered stone walls lining the roads making it impossible to see if anything was approaching me around the sharp bends. Constantly saying to myself “ stay on the left, stay on the left…” sitting behind the steering wheel on the right side, changing gears with my left hand. Being cautious on a blind corner, the road now looking more like a track, a huge tractor suddenly appeared towing a wagon overflowing with the largest brightest orange carrots, coming almost on top of me as he urgently applied his brakes. This explains the splattered bits of orange I had seen farther back. In the top part of his cab door there is a shattered hole in the glass about the size of a fist or a large rock. I pull over as far as I could and he the same. He looked more surprised than I felt. In fact he looked shocked! Especially when I excitedly tried to explain that I was from Canada, I am house sitting and looking after Jumble and we are lost. He peered into the back of the car trying to size up what was in front of him. It probably looked as if Jumble was drugged. There he was curled up in his bed snoring away oblivious to it all. I explained that he was deaf and this was his nap time. A big smile beamed across his weathered face. I told him that I was trying to get to Curracloe beach to take Jumble for a walk. Speaking to me through the hole he gave me directions interjected with telling me where I had gone wrong. In a speedy thick Irish accent- Go to the very end of this road, turn left not right, go over the bridge, keep straight past the pub then take the second road on the right, the one with green grass running down the middle of it, that’s the road, then go through Bally…., don’t take the turn to Bally…….everything seemed to start with Bally. I must have looked dazed as he repeated it all again. Embarrassed I nodded as if I had understood it all but really he had lost me before the first Bally… With a tip of his hat, a huge smile, he wished me a good stay in Ireland. I thanked him very much, and with a wave out of my window, a honk of my horn I set off pretending I knew exactly where I was going.

Soon after passing the pub the scenery began to change. I had passed a sign for Ballyvaldon. This rang a bell from the farmer’s directions. Grazing fields were becoming moss covered dense forests. Varieties of huge mature leafy trees reached out over the road to embrace each other forming a canopy. Like I was driving into a green tunnel. Popping out of one tunnel and into another. Dappled shade and bright light giving a strobe light effect. My stomach fell before I knew what was happening. Protective routine kicked in. Seizure!! This could trigger one. Automatatic reflex. My hand flies over to steady him, I look over to the passenger seat…the urgency to make sure Jason was ok took over before my brain sorted out that No! Jason is not here. I am in Ireland, stomach and heart meeting with such force, Jason has died. The loss of Jason, the loss of everything I knew ‘ before’ , came at me with such speed. Like an electric shock hitting me. Suspended. Bandages fall off revealing the gaping wounds raw oozing.

A small black and white road sign distracted me. Eyes squinting, CURRACLOE BEACH with an arrow is barely readable in cracked faded paint. Relieved that I must be close even though part of me was questioning it since I still had not seen the sea, only forest, I pulled in and parked. Lifting  Jumble out of the car,  clipping on his lead , there it was. Riding on the wind was the smell…incredibly fresh and clean, sort of tangy, the smell sparked something inside of me. It’s the sea !! Jumble sensing the same grew excited. We set off for the forest, both of us a spring in our step. An assortment of trails lay ahead, some straight on, some off to the right, some off to the left. Others, narrower ones, zig zagged through the trees. Taking the path to the left, the one with more footprints, my feet soon began to sink slightly, soil was turning into sand! We were heading in the right direction. My heart quickened. A roaring sound. Suspense. Straining to hear. Waves? Or was it the wind? Still no sign of the sea. Nearing the edge of the forest my heart lept at the sight before my eyes. Sprawled out in front of us were dunes covered in long grasses swaying to and fro as if waving to say hello. Climbing the paths weaving through the grasses, up and over several dunes, stopping often for Jumble to smell the various scents, there at the very top on the other side was this infinite beach spread out for all it’s glory. So vast. Beautiful sand and dunes running as far as I could see. Totally unspoilt. Magnificent. Hardly a soul in sight. Mountains in the background to my left and a distant ship and peninsular jutting out to my right. Off came the shoes, the feel of the sand between my toes, the cold Irish sea under and over my feet swirling around my ankles. Heavy mist and wind whipping around my face and hair. Incredibly surreal and emotional that here I was, the country of my roots, my heritage, Jumble and I standing in the Irish sea. So sad and heavy as to why and how I had arrived here. But yet it felt right somehow; this is where I have been brought to. A safe place. The ebb and flow of the waves. The ebb and flow of my breath. In harmony. Rhythm so soothing. Firm sand so solid, supportive against the soles of my feet- the sensation of the ripples formed in the sand as the balls of my feet rolled off them. All sensations were alive. Life was alive right now. The constant faint nausea had gone. The power of the waves rolling and then crashing, the foam sweeping in all around us. Jumble brushing up against my legs, looking up at me. Content. His soulful clouded eyes saying it all. I was totally present in this moment. No thoughts. No words.

In that space I was one with the universe. In tune. A raised energy. No fear. No turmoil. No separation. Peace. Ease. Clarity. One with the sea, the sky, the sand… the big picture.

A familiar sound grabs my attention. Hoofs! The rhythmic beat of hoofs in a canter. I swing around. Two riders poised out of the saddle on very fit thoroughbreds cantering effortlessly in the deep sand, snorting, foaming, as they passed us; impatiently waiting to be given the reins, wide eyes anticipating the cue. I could feel the excitement. Once they had got past the people the horses accelerated at such speed, blurred images in the distant mist, and then were gone.

Heading back to the car before Jumble started to tire I was aware of my state. I felt lighter, invigorated. My exposed wound cleansed, healthier. With a new soft bandage tenderly placed over it we made our way home.

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