| Chris Duff has always been a man more at home in | | | | journey and be alone with the winds and the waves. |
| the water than out of it. He was working with the | | | | The powerful force of the Irish landscape and the |
| US Navy in Holy Loch, Scotland in 1982 when his | | | | Irish people, however, makes its mark upon him. He |
| enlistment period ended. Faced with the difficult | | | | begins to feel not only a sense of belonging but a |
| decision of whether or not to re-enlist, he opted to | | | | sense of wonder and of loss. As he walks through |
| return to civilian life. Soon the dream of an Irish | | | | tangles of wildflowers on a deserted island, he comes |
| journey would be born. | | | | across ruins of stone cottages and chapels and the |
| Chris tried several trades, at one point working in | | | | history of the place pours forth to ensnare him as it |
| upstate New York as a butcher's assistant to an old | | | | has done to so many others. He muses: |
| couple from Ireland. When he asked where the old | | | | "Across the narrow waterway two stone house ruins |
| man was from he was told the Aran Islands. For | | | | stood bathed in the last rays of sun. The island, |
| those of us who love Ireland it brings delightful | | | | radiant in the evening light, looked as if it was an |
| visions of stone cottages and late night music | | | | enchanted fairy tale land. Shadows of stone walls |
| sessions into our heads. The couple pulled a coffee | | | | divided green meadows, and the cap of rock that |
| table book off a shelf and opened it to some striking | | | | broke through at the top of the island looked like a |
| images of the Aran Islands and its people - rough | | | | place where fairies might dance..." |
| seas, steep rock cliffs, stone houses, skin-covered | | | | I found it a pleasure to travel the circumference of |
| boats called currachs and rugged, wind-worn faces. | | | | the Emerald Isle with a philosophizing "American |
| Our man Chris was captivated by the wild sea | | | | canoeist." His courage in the face of the wild waves |
| surrounding that beautiful island and a seed was sown | | | | of the west coast is mind-boggling to a land lubber |
| in his brain that would grow and give birth to a | | | | like myself. At one point he lands safely on some |
| life-changing Celtic adventure fourteen years later. | | | | remote shore only to be greeted by a local |
| Chris's decision to kayak around Ireland was not the | | | | emergency crew that was looking for him. Someone |
| first such journey for him. He embodies the spirit of | | | | had spotted him "struggling" in the waves and |
| adventure that many of us only dream about. He had | | | | thought he was in distress. Meanwhile he had been |
| kayaked around the US and Canada - twelve months | | | | having the time of his life happily battling the waves! |
| and 8000 miles. He had also circumnavigated Great | | | | The names of the landmarks of his journey ring like a |
| Britain - five and a half months and 3000 miles. | | | | cast of famous actors with cameos in a blockbuster |
| Ireland, however, with its wild seas and unprotected | | | | film - Mizen Head, Dursey Head, the Skelligs, Dingle |
| west coast, with powerful waves meeting the first | | | | Bay, the Blaskets, The River Shannon, Galway Bay, |
| landfall of Europe, would be a different story entirely. | | | | the Cliffs of Moher, the Aran Islands, Clare Island - |
| The starting point is Dublin's famous River Liffey on | | | | and more! The list goes on. It truly is a cast of |
| June 1, 1996. The sacred vessel of the journey, an | | | | remarkable characters and keeps you guessing which |
| eighteen foot sea kayak loaded with one hundred | | | | one will walk on stage next. |
| pounds of food, water and camping gear, a journal | | | | When visiting the Blasket Islands, which were |
| wrapped in plastic for safe keeping and a map of the | | | | abandoned reluctantly by the villagers in the 1950's, |
| Irish coast carefully splash-guarded at the helm. As | | | | Chris comments that in a kayak the paddler always |
| Chris begins his travels he shares with us his blessings | | | | sits facing forward. In the traditional Irish currach, |
| - ten years of carpentry work had allowed him to | | | | however, the oarsmen face the rear of the boat and |
| save enough to take this precious time off for this | | | | watch their wake. This last view of their island must |
| adventure, to "take the time and just be quiet for a | | | | have been quite painful for the villagers as they |
| few months." Few of us have ever know that luxury | | | | rowed further and further away from the ancestral |
| but he has worked hard for it and appreciates it; | | | | home of their kin. |
| lucky for us he shares every moment so we can | | | | The people along the way are uniquely Irish. |
| enjoy it vicariously through his words. | | | | Whenever Chris emerges from the sea, seemingly |
| What struck me most about Chris's writing is the | | | | out of nowhere, he is met with remarks of disbelief. |
| mystery and wonder with which he regards the | | | | "You've come from Dublin in that?! I think y'er mad." |
| beauties of nature around him, particularly the west | | | | The kindness to strangers has always been the |
| coast of Ireland, where stark cliffs are pounded by | | | | hallmark of Irish hospitality; thousands of years ago it |
| strong seas and winds whip wildly. At times he | | | | was actually mandated by the Brehon laws of the |
| kayaks into sea caves along the coast and paddles in | | | | land. It simply seems second nature to a generous |
| the semi-darkness and one feels his reverence for | | | | people. The fishermen who casually hand him a few |
| what nature has wrought in our landscape. | | | | lobster claws or some cleaned fish for his dinner, |
| Ireland's coastline is simply mad with bird life, | | | | along with advice about his crossing. The housewife |
| particular the islands off the coast. At one point a | | | | who makes him dinner and asks him to join the |
| large-winged fulmar watches him curiously, floating in | | | | family by the fire for a night of storytelling. The |
| the air and staring him in the eyes. Chris says to him | | | | couple who rise at dawn to see him off on the next |
| "You are so beautiful my friend. What have you seen | | | | leg of his journey. The fellow kayaker in Galway who |
| and where have you been today?" There is a | | | | gives him a place to stay and relax after a spell of |
| timelessness in the eyes of such a bird, that can | | | | bad weather and helps carry his heavy kayak |
| make us feel our insignificance in the face of Mother | | | | through the crowded streets of the city. It is only |
| Nature. Chris visits islands rich with bird colonies - | | | | sadly in the north of Ireland, where the troubles |
| cormorants, puffins, shags, fulmars, kittiwakes, | | | | were still raging, where his knock at a door is met |
| guillemots, gannets, razorbills - by the thousands. | | | | with suspicion and fear rather than a smile and a |
| They are all very tolerant of his presence and simply | | | | warm welcome by the fire. |
| accept him rather than flying into a frenzy at his | | | | Ireland is a revelation to our kayaker friend. He is |
| approach as one would expect. It's a bird watcher's | | | | awed by the natural beauty of windswept islands and |
| paradise. | | | | cliff-lined coasts, drawn to the friendly people, |
| Along the journey, Chris visits numerous islands - | | | | bewildered by the sheer volume of history bursting |
| some with names that sound familiar like Skellig | | | | from the seams of the landscape and humbled by |
| Michael and Clare Island, others that are tiny dots on | | | | the mysterious sacredness he feels. He has a gift for |
| the ocean landscape. In foul weather he sits out the | | | | storytelling, for describing a scene down to the last |
| wind and waves, peering from his tent at the storm | | | | rays of the sun, that may well be proof of his Irish |
| outside, waiting for a break in the weather. He takes | | | | ancestry. |
| us with him as he sleeps in a beehive hut or paddles | | | | To those who are faint of heart, there are scenes in |
| under a waterfall near Dingle Bay to take a cold | | | | this book which are truly harrowing. Chris paddles |
| freshwater shower or even goes religiously pub | | | | over waves that would frighten the be-jaysus out of |
| hopping from session to session in the busy pub | | | | you and me and navigates around submerged rocks |
| town of Dingle. | | | | that could puncture his wee kayak and drown him. |
| What is remarkable is that unlike many with Irish | | | | But truth be told, he does finish his journey safely. |
| ancestry, Chris Duff did not come to Ireland to seek | | | | As the old saying goes, he "lives to tell the tale." So |
| his past. He wanted to enjoy a challenging kayaking | | | | enjoy every beautiful and hair raising second of it! |