Ferry to Dublin
I have been thinking about the times I never took a photograph because I didn't have a camera. Instead I rely on my photographic memory. This is My Dublin bay experience:I was 19 and was working as a civil servant in the Export Credits Guarantee Department in Gresham Street, in the City of London. Friday evening, I had decided to take a trip to Dublin, where my friend from School was staying. So I had a small bag (a Duffle bag, actually. Do you remember them?) with just the absolute necessities – a spare pair of pants, a book, a wash bag!
I caught the 'Boat train' from Euston at 8pm. It was pretty crowded – mainly with Irish workmen going home to their families for the weekend. I had nowhere to sit, so I ended up sleeping on the floor in the corridor with my bag as a pillow! It soon got dark, so all I could see was the occasional lights of railway stations as we were rushing by. The train stopped only in a couple of places.
Then we arrived at Holyhead, and had to transfer to the ferry in the dark. It was much the same, everybody grabbing the available seats in the 'lounge' and getting down to the drinking! I found a bench on the deck and stretched out to sleep. Not likely. As we got away from Holyhead, a storm suddenly blew up. It was about the roughest crossing anyone on that boat could ever remember, which made me feel a bit better about being terrified...
It seemed like a pretty long night, I can tell you. I think I was the only person on the boat who was not sick. I have never had a problem with motion sickness. But if you have ever been on 'Bobs Coaster' at Belle Vue in Manchester, that's what it was like. The ferry was climbing precipitously to the peak of a huge mountainous wave, and then crashing to the bottom of the trough with a massive bump. This went on all night. Then, as suddenly as it began, the storm abated. It was almost dawn, and we were just coming into Dublin Bay. The sea had turned to glass; the sky was brightening behind us.
In the morning stillness I went to the bow of the boat to see before me the purple mountains, backdrop to a panoramic view of Dublin, with tiny grey-tinged clouds floating above the grey-green, glassy sea. Then the sun just peeped over the horizon, and in a flash those clouds turned sugar-pink – breathtaking. Time stood still.
They were so low that it seemed as if they were waiting for me to scoop them up on a stick like candy-floss! There was I, at the bow of the boat, feet buried in a pile of ropes, drinking in the beauty of the pale morning sky, the dark outline of the land, and those amazing sugary puffy clouds. I reached up to them and tears were running down my face.
I will never, never forget the wonder of that moment. I had no camera, but I can see them now, in all their exquisite delicacy. And then, the pink faded, the moment was over, and the deck began to fill with noise. But I had had my secret, private moment of heart-piercing beauty, to cherish forever.
I have never been back to Dublin Bay, but nothing could ever live up to that morning, anyway.
I hope that I have brought to life a vision of beauty to you - could any camera have recorded such a moment of joy? I very much doubt it.
Words by Marie Cadavieco
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Written on 2019-07-28 at 23:44
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