When son, Harry (now 20), suggests an impromtu excursion, I’m never able to resist. There’s always that little voice inside me that says: Make the most of the time that we can share. I also know, from experience, that these outings bring me to wild and wonderful places.
Yesterday, it was a trip up the glaciated Comeragh Mountains here in Co. Waterford to see one of the many lakes that shimmer majestically up there. Our destination, I was informed, was Coumshingaun Lake.
The air grew purer and purer as we climbed and, as my heart pounded, I envied the sure-footed fitness and balance of the curious sheep:
Just as we seemed to be reaching some kind of summit, dark clouds came sweeping round the mountains followed by ‘relief rain’ that hopped out of the mists of boring geography classes in the early 1970s.
There was sublime compensation for the total knicker-through drenching with the magical appearance of a rainbow bridging what seemed like the whole of Co. Waterford:
As we made our way up the mountain, I couldn’t but think of the song ‘The Climb,’ sung by Joe McElderry, which Harry and I often play in the car and which both of us have long found inspirational:
We stood in awe as Coumshingaun Lake came into sight beneath us and, yes, we agreed that we would come back soon and climb higher and higher so that we would get to see its wonder from all angles.