June 7th - Boyle to Dublin



It is 10 in the morning. I'm driving our minibus up an impossibly-narrow farmer's lane on the south-eastern edge of Co Sligo in search of a megalithic court cairn I've never been able to find before. It may seem odd to think of a prehistoric stone monument with a 200-ton capstone as being elusive, but I haven't been able to locate this one despite trying during four previous trips to the area.

The minibus is tight into the heather on both sides of the lane now. We will no doubt return the van dusty and battle-scarred. It's a wonder how a rental vehicle will traverse almost anything, even roads where one wouldn't think of taking a personal car. Now, with the help of some new farmer-informants, and with the navigation assistance of my one non-traditional student, Geneva, the monument is in sight. In Celtic tradition, it's the grave of Balor, the one-eyed evil creature who could turn men to stone with one glance. We make our pictures and returned to the minibus.

The six (traditional) students are all sound asleep. Before this trip began, I had some concerns about how many more times I'd be able to walk up these cliff and mountain trails carrying cameras and tripods and keeping up a leadership role with a crew of 21-year-olds. Now, at the end of the trip, it's abundantly clear that the youngsters are the ones having the problems keeping up; Geneva and I are usually the last to poop out. I'm sure that at some point in the future I will be the one needing the afternoon naps and feeling high anxiety on Skellig Michael. But not this year.

I hope that time is still far away. I'd like to enjoy my stay in Tir-nan-Og (the mythological Irish land of everlasting youth) a bit longer. I wish to continue leading these eye-opening adventures, watching as these bright-eyed students see for the first time these magical Irish landscapes that I first viewed as a 21-year-old student myself. I know that vicariously experiencing these sensory awakenings is part of the key to maintaining at least a temporary residence within Tir-nan-Og.

Before leaving the midlands, we stop to photograph a "holy well," whose curative powers were present in pre-Christian mythology long before it was dedicated to St. Lasair.

Driving back to Dublin, we encounter an traffic jam also of mythical proportions. It seems that this Sunday there is an all-Ireland women's marathon, closing off access roads to the city center (and our hotel). We park a block away, briefly watch the distaff Celtic armies rumble past, and then repair to a pub for a late lunch.

This is the final web-journal entry for the 1998 Irish Photosafari. Tomorrow morning we will fly to London to reunite with the rest of the Bradley University crowd. By the end of the fall semester, this journal will be incorporated within a larger web site where the students' photographs, virtual-reality movies, and extended journals will be woven together interactively. Please re-visit Ireland with us at that time.

Howard Goldbaum

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