View from the Pier

Sneem, Ireland

The day had barely begun and already I was in a tangle, with jetlag, hunger and a desperate need for the loo rendering the passing scenery practically invisible.  So intent was I on my befuddled biological clock, empty stomach, and full bladder that the short drive from Waterville to Sneem seemed interminable.  This 11-mile jaunt was a small leg in the 110-mile tourist trail around southwestern Ireland’s Iveragh Peninsula, known as the Ring of Kerry.  Sneem means “knot” in Irish, and the town is considered “The Knot in the Ring” of County Kerry.  

The swollen storm clouds on the horizon, heavy with rain, mirrored my dark morning mood.  Fidgety and physically incapable of appreciating the idyllic countryside as we glided by, I was soon entertaining negative notions about the long day’s drive to come.  Within moments, I was convinced the trip to Ireland had been ill-conceived and ill-timed. 

Happily, a half-hour later, I walked out the door of a charming bakery in Sneem and the world was a very different place. Feeling much more relaxed and comfortable, I wandered down the street, and soon came upon an ancient bridge spanning the river for which the town is named.  The stone structure is at the heart of the community, banding together the two halves of its hourglass shape and fording the waters that course down from the 2,245-foot peak of Knockmoyle to Kenmare Bay. 

My mood and attention span had expanded and I found myself absorbed in the tableau, dedicating long, contented moments to examining each vantage point the spot afforded.  Looking over one side of the bridge, foaming water tumbled around jagged rocks that reached up toward the sky and then settled down and became serene as the river’s bed smoothed out.  To the left, a stately clock tower stood sentinel, swathed in a cushion of lush greenery.  On the opposing shore, a line of cheerful candy-colored houses extended along the horizon, below the contours of massive and mysterious mountains. 

On the opposite side of the bridge, my view was framed by green stems sprouting from its old masonry, atop which clusters of pink blossoms waved in the breeze.  Descending stairs that ran along the steep embankment, I saw that a couple of the underlying arches supporting the bridge had long ago been stacked with stones to partially dam the flow.  As a result, the water’s surface here was placid and tranquil. While the skies were still overcast, I was able to appreciate that the hazy light actually enhanced the water’s reflective quality.  Fluffy clouds seem to float by in the quiet current, in which a shimmering ghostly twin stared back at a regal four-storey building on the bank.    

My guide Des told me that Sneem had once won the country’s Tidy Towns Award. I learned this national initiative was launched by the Irish Tourist Board in 1958 as part of the Tostal, a nationwide festival celebrating all things Irish.  The primary mission of the Tidy Towns campaign is to encourage communities to improve their local environment and make their area a better place to live, work and visit. The competition aspect fosters a friendly rivalry that boosts standards across the board but the emphasis is on participating rather than winning.

The Tidy Towns competition has grown from an initial 52 participants in its first year to an average of 700 annual entrants today.  It’s believed the number of those who have been involved in the Tidy Towns initiative runs into the hundreds of thousands, and its influence on the transformation of Ireland’s landscape is meaningful. Tidy Towns’ mission remains that of its founders: “make your place a better place.”

My friend Des shared his experience of Tidy Town in a recent email:

“As I’m sure you noticed here, people take real pride in the appearance of their homes and towns and so are happy to participate. My mother regularly goes out to pick up rubbish with friends while my father does any local gardening needed. 

I am president of my estate’s resident association. It’s a new estate so we are just starting off.  A few of us got together and started regular cleanups.  We meet every month or so now to go around. It has been a way of getting to know each other and once people started to see others make an effort, they joined in and take more care and pride in their own houses.  I think it helps build community. It makes us all realize we are not alone.”

A sense of isolation is believed to have driven Henri Frédéric Amiel, quoted today, a Swiss philosopher, poet and critic born in Geneva.  Orphaned at the age of 12, Amiel is best-known as a diarist, who kept a journal for the last 42 years of his life, which totaled 17,000 pages at his death.  The legacy of his hyper-sensitive self-analysis is a wealth of thoughtful observations about human nature—and at least one psychiatric dissertation.

When I start to feel out of sync with the Universe, I try to revisit Sneem from afar and remember that the same scenery can appear very different, depending upon where I am internally.  Generally, for me to feel my world is a healthy and happy place, I need a sense of connection to something outside myself.  People are most often the bridge that gets me there.   

For more images of Ireland, http://www.viewfromthepier.com/travel-photos/