Croaghaun of A chill 



Beneath the rocks saxifrages were still green, and there was 

 little to show that mid-winter was here. 



Even on the hill-top — 2,200 feet above the sea-level — not 

 a breath of air stirred, but by now on Slievemore, a few miles 

 to the eastward, a thick cloud was resting, and from time to 

 time across the hillside beneath us thin vapours floated. Out 

 to sea the air was clear, and far to the westward the wintry 

 sun was shining. Through the mist-cap, which by now was 

 beginning to settle on the hill-top, we could see, lying out 

 into the ocean, perhaps ten miles to the north-west, the tiny 

 Black Rock, with its lighthouse. I think that of all British 

 lights this must be one of the most isolated and difficult 

 of access. Even to-day, when the air was still, the surf 

 breaking on the Black Rock was tremendous, and at times 

 almost reached the lighthouse itself. 



On the summit of Croaghaun one is, indeed, on the fringe 

 of the world. Here one looks seaward, with nothing between 

 oneself and America. Here, during the season of winter, the 

 Atlantic storms rush with terrific force over the hill-top, so that 

 the wild goats seek what shelter they can amongst the dark 

 cliffs, and even the raven does not venture abroad. As we stood 

 by the summit cairn the deep roar of the swell as it thundered 

 on the rocks was carried up even thus far, and on the sheltered 

 shore of Keem green-tipped waves were falling with measured 

 rhythm. Westward the hillside falls away down to the sea 

 in the form of a great precipice, where wild goats cling, and 

 where in former times the sea eagle and golden eagle bred. 

 Indeed, it was only a few years back that the last golden 

 eagle's nest was seen on these rocks. 



Since the mist lingered on the summit I made my way 

 down to the western spur of the hill, which was free of cloud. 

 Gradually, north and south, the sky cleared and the sun 

 shone brightly on sea and islands. The Black Rock Light- 

 house showed plainly, and the spray from the surf as it was 

 gradually wafted to leeward — for a slight northerly wind had 

 sprung up, ruffling the ocean — was tinged with pink. Away 



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