Monastic Ruins (1998)

MONASTIC RUINS/Bill Embly August 25 Dear Mairead: Tm writing to say that I made it and I would like to go forward with our tentative agreement, that is, that I will live here for twenty pounds a month in exchange for repairs on the cottage. I understand that you have the option of asking me to leave at any time, and I also reserve the option of leaving if I find Tm not up to this. I understand now why you told me to take a room in Dingle for the night, but I had already made up my mind on the bus ride from Tralee to Dingle to come out here directly. The scenery was so spectacular I knew this is where I wanted to live, and having determined that, I was not content to stay in Dingle for the night. I wanted to see the cottage , I wanted to know what I was getting into. I got off the bus in the lower end of town, as you suggested, and walked out past the tidal basin to the bridge where your map began. It was just dusk, and I felt certain I could hitch a ride the ten kilometers to Ventry and walk up before it was too dark. I didn't have much luck at first, so I started to walk. I got as far as a cemetery when a car pulled over. A couple from Cork on vacation. They were going to Kruger's Pub in Dunnquinn. Consulting your map, I found this would take me within a few kilometers of the cottage . We passed through Ventry and followed around to O'Shea's, where we turned up toward the pass. I had them let me out at the first intersection. I didn't realize how dark it was until I watched their taillights disappear in the distance. I couldn't distinguish the land from the sky. I could barely see the road in front of me. Striking a match, consulting your map, it appeared easy enough, so I shouldered my pack, took up my two bags, and set out. When the paved road gave over to a cart path, I began to have serious doubts and wished I had taken your advice, but I didn't see how I could go wrong. According to your map I was to take a left at the first fork and a right at the second fork, and this would lead directly to the cottage. Because of the hedgerow and the overcast sky, I could see nothing but the rut in front of me. I followed this up, looking for the fork, but found myself coming into a small village. There was nothing on your map about a small village, so I was confused. Trying to keep 162 · The Missouri Review my wits about me, I guessed I had missed the fork and followed around to the right. Returning by way of the other rut, I found this is exactly what I had done. As I walked along here now, traversing the slope, I saw Kavanaugh's farm come up on the right. It was a welcome sight, as you had indicated this on your map. I followed along to the next fork and turned up towards the summit again. In a little while I heard the river you had noted, but when I came to the river I saw no way to get across. The stream broke from a hedgerow on my right and dropped into a gully on my left. There seemed to be nothing for it but to wade across. Confident I was nearly there, I ventured in. About halfway across I stepped on the edge of a stone and fell to one knee. I was fairly whipped at this point, but the cold water brought me to my feet in a hurry. I crossed and took a quick inventory of the damage. Fortunately my sleeping bag had remained dry, and I had managed to keep my bags out of the water. So really there was no damage, providing this path led to the cottage and a change of clothes. As you know, it did...