Famine Roads

L^mioeEoads Gretchen Steele Galway, Ireland: September 2001 Across Galway Bay, crumbling limestone roads still cling halfway up the steep Burren, Irish for 'a stony place.' Relief work for Famine victims— building roads to nowhere. From sea level in Kinvarna, hauling slabs of karstic limestone from the shattered acres of Rockforest, a few yards every day for years up the side of Mullaghmore Mountain toward Black Head. They clambered in the sludge, clutching each stone into place, cheeks laid on wet limestone, hugging the hillside like the low tufts of purple heather. Below, the Atlantic meets the cliffs with no room for beach. Canyons of dark water. Across Galway Bay, I take pictures of the place they dropped their picks and shovels, unfolded cramped hands, let go. How does sadness become holy ground? I found myself on the steps of an overflowing cathedral there 150 Gretchen Steele one Sunday in September, all the shops closed. Outside, none of us looked away when our eyes met. Outside, it was a day on the edge of not being a day. The damp smell of hymnals and incense sifting down through the open doors was enough to remind us of something we hadn't done in a long time, enough to keep us there as the rain came in at us sideways. 151 ...