KERRY, CONNEMARA AND CLARE 245 



they fear. A great beast, always at war with 



them. 



r Once long ago some girls were bathing near the 



hotel when one found she could not come in, the 



sands were shifting and the deadly undertow at 



work. 



She was neck deep, she stood in calm water, 

 being slowly taken out. The other girls shirked 

 trying to help her, afraid to go deep, when they 

 saw a man pass and called to him. 



He went on hurriedly. Two hours later he saw 

 the girl carried in, dead, and it was his own sister 

 whom he had been afraid to take from the sea. 



Poule Na Quirka at Spanish Point is the em- 

 bodiment of lurking fear by the sea. A long narrow 

 inlet with the huge breakers crashing and spuming 

 outside, and in the inlet suck of sullen dark green 

 waters against polished barren cHffs. Once down 

 one must drown in the sullen deep or swim long 

 enough to be carried into the turmoil at the mouth. 

 A cave there, almost hidden, sucks and gurgles as 

 though some unseen beast drowned is gasping 

 behind the cowering water. 



A wonderful coast though, the coast of Clare. 

 From the Moher Cliffs, which are worth a long 

 journey to see, to the great thrashing sea at 

 Kilkee where the Atlantic pounds its might of 

 foam-topped translucent green at the piled-up 

 rocks and towering cliffs. 



There is another part of the coast which must 



