THE IRISH COAST
On the Great Saltee Island I saw two kittiwakes nested on a steep cliff amongst beds of pink sea thrift, enjoying a laugh together.
Ireland and Scotland are my favorite places to visit. There is a comfort to both places that goes beyond the scenery. It is in the people, the way conversations start easily, the humor that comes without effort, the feeling that you are welcome even if you are just passing through. It is also in the culture, where music, stories, and traditions are part of everyday life rather than something put on display.
My time along Ireland’s coast began at North Bull Island, just outside of Dublin. It is a place where the tide seems to reshape the land every few hours, opening stretches of sand and then covering them again. The light there was never still. One moment the sea was silver and calm, the next it turned a dull gray as clouds swept in. The birds went about their routines regardless, seagulls and guillemots carrying on as though nothing I was doing mattered. Shooting there for me was another lesson in patience. I adjusted my camera again and again, chasing light that vanished as quickly as it appeared. The day mostly felt like a photographic failure, but in the quiet between shots I realized the stillness itself was part of the reward. I was about to leave with no good photographs, until I spotted a heard of seals. and was beyond elated, but I couldn’t get too close to them as they were getting very agitated at my presence. I laid on the sand and discretely inched closer and closer, until I was caught and asked to leave the island by the park rangers.
From there I went north to Howth, a fishing village with cliffs that rose steeply over the sea. The walk along the headlands was filled with wildflowers clinging to the rock, gulls wheeling overhead, and the smell of salt in the air. Puffins appeared in small numbers here, but other seabirds were a plenty, scattered among the cliffs. I took a very short boat ride to a nearby island, home to dozens of bird colonies of Purple Sandpiper, Black Guillemot, Sandwich Tern, Northern Gannet, Common Guillemot and more. After waiting for about 10 minutes for a storm to pass, the island became peaceful. After some great shots, and run-ins with several territorial bird parents, I went back to the village, which actually had several cute cafes and restaurants.
A couple days later, my journey to the Great Saltee Islands was the epitome of my trip, and took some time to get to. A couple long bus rides through the countryside, starting early in the morning and arriving in Kilmore Quay by the evening. The next day taking a small boat across the water to this great Mecca of birds.
When you step onto the Great Saltee the noise hits you first. Colonies of guillemots crowd the ledges, their calls echoing across the cliffs. Razor bills hold their ground with sharp contrasts of black and white. Puffins pop in and out of burrows, often carrying fish, sometimes just standing among the flowers as if they own the place. Many puffins will walk right up to humans to check them out, but it’s forbidden to touch them or stand too long in there path. The thing is, puffins burrow nests underneath the ground you’re standing on, and the may not be walking up to you but you might be standing on top of their front door. Needless to say, it’s a much to stay on the trodden permissible path to avoid harming or confusing the birds. It is chaotic and alive, and it makes you feel small in the best way. After going heaving on the camera trigger, I often had to sit and soak it all in for a while. Regardless of the photos I was able to take, it’s was a once in a lifetime moment happening. That was the most important thing to remember.
Looking back, it is not just the images that stay with me. It is the rhythm of the travel itself; the bus rides through narrow country roads, the small boats with their quirky captains, the wildflowers holding to the edges of cliffs, the sharp wind that never quite leaves your jacket. Photography brought me to these islands, but the experience was always larger than the frame. For a time, I was simply part of it, and that is what I carry with me long after the photographs are made.
