Like a magnet Coomonole drags me back, drags me down it's deep incline, early, always early, before footprints march ugly across my waiting canvas.
Approaching the Dingle Peninsula, I pass the beauty of Inch Strand, a crime not to stop, I promise I will return, I promise. But, I have to get to Coomonole and I have to get there early.
I drive through Dingle along the sea front, only fishermen pumping boats, town on my right. A quick nod up at Dick Mac's, I'll be back, I'll be back. But, I have to get to Coomonole and I have to get there early.
Passing Ventry sea on my left, I am imagining waves. I can see the Blaskets now demanding my attention. Rising, posing, proud and vain because every camera stops for them but not me, not now, not this time. I have to get to Coomonole and I have to get there early.
.....and then I am there, winding down to the beach, waves crashing on rocks, seabirds dancing on the tide, early, always early and yes, no footprints.
I had to get to Coomenole and I had to get there early.
