The Day I Drove On The Ocean Floor, Stumbled Upon A Giants’ Convention, And Disappeared Off The Face Of The Earth (Part 2)
To escape Rome’s stifling summer heat, I had taken myself for an eight day, self-drive tour of Ireland. In my modern day chariot – a two-door hatchback named Ka – guided by the wisdom of Betty the GPS, I wound my way clock-wise around the Emerald Isle.
For a city girl not accustomed to wide open spaces or serene rural landscapes, Ireland was a marvel. While I had travelled previously, I had mostly visited other major cities with all of their trappings. This journey, however, consisted of rolling hills tumbling over each other, every shade of green unfurling before my eyes, and empty stretches of road with not a soul in sight – although I did, at one point, have to make way for a tractor coming towards me on a narrow country lane. All I could think to do was drive into a hedge, shut my eyes and hope for the best.
I grew up in an industrial town where tall chimneystacks and a low rumble punctuated daily life, only to move to the edge of Australia’s most famous city with its stacks of tall buildings and the grumble of traffic and overhead planes. When I moved to Rome, it was the energizing buzz of crowds and cars and chaos that flooded my senses. I thrived on the cacophony of modern living.
On this particular day travelling along the Ring of Kerry, Ka, Betty and I had already experienced the strange wonder of driving on the ocean floor. Still filled with the thrill of this venture, I felt almost as though we were gliding above the bitumen, hugging the meandering curves. The magic of the moment sustained by the dappled light shining through the trees along the winding roads.
As we came around a bend in a semi trance, I was shocked back into full consciousness by the sudden appearance of a great, looming figure – a giant. Its scale was imposing, its presence palpable. It was silent but not motionless. It had three great arms whirling with a steady whoosh and a single staring eye transfixed on an unknown point in the distance.
The haunting apparition made me catch and hold my breath as Ka continued along our studied route. I dared not breathe; it seemed so alive, capable of reaching out and plucking me from the earth’s surface. We very soon drove around another bend losing sight of the giant almost as quickly as it had appeared.
My heart raced with excitement at such a foreign sight and I was contemplating turning around to see if the vision was real when another bend brought a second giant into view, and then a third and a fourth.
As I came into a clearing I saw a whole group of them, all in silent communion, the rhythmic twirling of their giant limbs a kind of secret language. They stood at least a hundred meters tall, each arm stretching close to fifty meters. They were further away than I had initially thought, their scale distorting the logic of physics, but the sight of them was no less mesmerising.
It was a wind farm I had stumbled upon, and the giants a collection of turbines diligently providing renewable energy for the Irish public. As the road I was travelling took me in the opposite direction, I watched the giants shrink in my rear view mirror. I felt sure they were conspiring among themselves in their permanent convention – their giant’s convention – one that I would not have been privy to except for an accidental stumble along a rambling road, on the Ring of Kerry.
…to be continued…