Search Results for 'High Island'
4 results found.
Mam Eán - A name that ‘speaks of the world’s wonders’
That great observer of landscape Tim Robinson reminds us that Connemara is full of saints. Perhaps there isn't a saint in the place today, but they were certainly there in profusion in earlier times. Looking around him from the heights of Errislannan, near Clifden, Tim observes that practically every one of the headlands and islands that he sees has its saint. There is St Roc at Little Killary, St Colmán on Inishboffin, St Ceannanach at Cleggan, St Féichín in Omey and High Island, and all the saints in the tangled archipelagos east of Carna, Bearchan, Breacán, and Enda; and the obscure Mocán or Smocán of Barr an Doire near An Cheathrú Rua, 'and finally the great St Colm Cille who has all the south Connemara coast under his protection...'
Letter to Sylvia Plath from Ted Hughes (March 1956)
Sylvia, That night was nothing but getting to know how smooth your body is. The memory of it goes through me like brandy. If you do not come to London to me, I shall come to Cambridge to you. I shall be in London, here, until the 14th. Enjoy Paris...Ted. And bring back brandy. Two bottles.
Connemara Wild at Heart
Four Seasons Walking Festival
The place where St Patrick wrestled with a bull...
That great observer of landscape Tim Robinson reminds us that Connemara is full of saints. Perhaps there isn’t a saint in the place today, but they were certainly there in profusion in earlier times. Looking around him from the heights of Errislannan, near Clifden, Tim observes that practically every one of the headlands and islands that he sees has its saint. There is St Roc at Little Killary, St Colmán on Inishboffin, St Ceannanach at Cleggan, St Féichín in Omey and High Island, and all the saints in the tangled archipelagos east of Carna, Bearchan, Breacán, and Enda; and the obscure Mocán or Smocán of Barr an Doire near An Cheathrú Rua, ‘and finally the great St Colm Cille who has all the south Connemara coast under his protection...’ But no St Patrick. I can only surmise that Connemara has so much beauty, so many stories of its people and places, its own music, magic and legends, that even the sandalled steps, and gentle words of the great Irish saint would have come and gone unnoticed.