Donabate was a perfect choice for a Lenten retreat (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)Patrick ComerfordEaster brings hope of new life, and Spring brings the promise of fresh growth and renewal. The past winter – indeed the autumn past and the summer before it – have been so dull and damp, that the bright sunshine that was ushered in at the beginning of March came as a welcome beginning to Spring, with the promise not only of a bright Easter but a sunny summer too.
But through the rain and despite the dark clouds of winter past and the autumn of last year, I have been reinvigorated regularly and touched that promise of new life with regular walks on the beach. I have found time almost every weekend over the past nine months to walk on one of the beautiful sandy beaches along our East Coast, from the mouth of the Boyne to the coasts of Co Wexford.
For some years I have been troubled by the symptoms of sarcoidosis, although a confirmed diagnosis was only finally provided as late as last summer. The symptoms include growths (
granola) on my lungs, swelling in my neck, an irritating dry cough, sleeping difficulties, constant joint pains – especially in my knees and in my feet – that slow me down unexpectedly, small growths or marks that flare up on my legs or have left scar tissue on my nose, and bouts of fatigue that leave me tired and without full energy.
Missing my walks
A blue sky and as early moon over the South Strand in Skerries (Photograph: Patrick ComerfordWhen the symptoms first started to appear, I simply thought that age was beginning to creep up on me. I never expected to play rugby or cricket again. But – as someone who never learned to drive – I began to miss out on those regular walks that had kept my fit and healthy.
Eventually, after many tests, consultations and hospital visits, the diagnosis of sarcoidosis was confirmed. That was the bad news. The good news came in two parts: lung cancer had been ruled out, and I could expect remission to kick in soon.
Normally, people with sarcoidosis in Ireland tend to suffer from a milder form than, for example, people in the United States. But that offers little comfort at present. And matters have been complicated by a severe deficiency in Vitamin B12 as a direct consequence of 40 years of vegetarianism, leaving me with a constant tingling or sensation of “pins and needles” in my feet and at the end of my fingers.
Skerries Harbour (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)Over the past few months, my blog postings on “Living with Sarcoidosis” and on my regular beach walks have connected me with people throughout the world living with this condition. Their stories and their difficulties have acted as a corrective to any temptation my part to indulge in self-pity. Indeed, over the past few weeks my consultant has told that my condition has stabilised, and I can hope that remission may begin to kick in before the year is out.
Skerries Beach in mid-winter (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)I have been sustained throughout all this by my faith, by the love I receive, by the comfort of friends, by good medical attention from GP, consultants and in hospitals, and by a very interesting, satisfying and fulfilling life in writing, teaching and ministry.
Putting bleak winter behind us
The setting sun casts a golden light across the beach at Skerries (Photograph: Patrick ComerfordThe summer, autumn and winter in Ireland have been bleak. Yet, throughout those wet and overcast weekends, I have continued to walk those beaches, from Co Louth through Co Meath, Dublin and Wicklow, to Co Wexford, knowing that these walks by the sea and on the sand are boosting my feelings of well-being and giving opportunities to reconnect with nature, to reach some of the depths of my own spirituality and to give thanks to God for the light and hope I have in my life every day.
A small trawler beached on the sands in Loughshinny (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)On what was the sunniest weekend in Ireland since Whit Weekend last year, I headed out to Fingal and the beaches of north-east county Dublin. At Loughshinny, a small trawler was beached on the sand and a handful of people were walking on the beach. But no-one was walking out as far as the pier, with its majestic views across to the islands at Skerries to the north-east and across to Lambay Island to the south-east.
From Loughshinny, I moved on to Skerries. As the road approaches Holmpatrick, there are eye-catching views across to the islands, and on Sunday afternoons a late lunch in Olive in Strand Street is a real pleasure. This must be one of the best cafés – not just in Fingal or Dublin but in Ireland, and they really do know how to make espresso there.
Strolling up past the North Strand on Sunday afternoons, bikers regularly overflow onto the footpath and the road outside Joe May’s. The beach at the North Strand is small, but when the tide is out it is worth stepping down for a short stroll and to enjoy the tranquil views of Skerries Harbour.
Up on Red Island, there are views as far as the Mourne Mountains on a sunny day. The sun brings out families and children in great numbers – oh, how we appreciate sunshine when we are blessed with it in Ireland! Back down on the lengthy beach at the South Strand, the sand that was packed and deep-coloured throughout winter months turns to golden colours in the sunshine.
Looking back across Skerries from Red Island and from the South Strand, the windmills, the spire of Holmpatrick Church and the tower behind the church are almost ever-present as graceful features on the skyline. The ruined early-18th century tower is a reminder of a more ancient past and the Celtic and mediaeval monastic sites associated with Skerries.
Finding a lost beach
Rocky outcrops on the North Beach in Rush (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)Further south, I recently returned Rush, which has two sandy beaches – the North Beach and South Beach – separated by Rush Harbour, a small tidal harbour and the rocky head of the peninsula. Nearby is the picture-postcard Church of Ireland parish church in Kenure, built in 1866 by Sir William Palmer of Kenure House.
The first few attempts to find the South Beach in Rush each ended in a cul-de-sac. But I was rewarded one sunny Sunday afternoon as I rediscovered a beach I had last enjoyed in my early teens 45 years ago – when I was a 13-year-old.
The sun was shining brightly. There was Lambay Island, looking ever so like a Greek island basking in a blue Aegean sea under the sunshine. To the south, there was a clear vista across to Portrane, so that I could clearly pick out the towers of the hospital, the round tower and – at the end of the peninsula – the Lynders house at the Quay, the home from which my grandmother was married over a hundred years ago.
Looking across the estuary at Rogerstown towards Donabate and Portrane (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)On colder afternoons in Rush, I have sat looking out on Rogerstown Estuary. The mouth of the estuary is so narrow that local people claim it is possible to walk across from Rush to Donabate, at a gradual walking pace – if there is no water. But there is – for the estuary is made up of saltwater marshes, raised salt marsh, wet meadows and riverine shallows and creeks. The estuary is internationally recognised as one of the most important sites on our east coast and is vital for wintering wildfowl, waders and birds on passage, with birds coming to this estuary from the Arctic.
10, Lambay Island seen from the beach at The Burrow in Portrane (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)Across the estuary, Portrane has been a perennial favourite with me. From the beach at The Burrow, it is worth taking a look at Portrane Castle and its ivy-covered ruins and its associations with Dean Jonathan Swift’s “Stella,” Esther Johnson, and the ruins of Saint Catherine’s Church, surrounded by an embattled wall.
Ash Wednesday retreatI enjoy this area so much that Donabate seemed a natural choice at the beginning of Lent as the venue for the Ash Wednesday retreat for the staff and students of the Church of Ireland Theological Institute. When we arrived, the early morning sky was clear and the rising sun was already glistering across the Irish Sea, with a few ships on the horizon.
With those blue skies and blue waters that morning, it was like being on an Aegean island in the sun. The views to the south extended beyond Dublin Bay as far the Sugarloaf in the Wicklow Mountains. A little closer, Howth Head was craggy and clear, while a little to the north Lambay Island was crisp, like a cut-out stage prop.
The towers at Portrane Hospital from the beach at Balcarrick (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)There were generous opportunities for walks on the beaches in Corballis and Balcarrick. During the time for silence and contemplation, I walked from the Martello Tower at Balcarrick along the sand dunes as far as the hospital grounds in Portrane and the Round Tower erected in 1843 by Charles Stewart Parnell’s great-aunt, Sophia, in memory of her husband, George Hampden Evans of Portrane House.
As I continued on along the cliff path, some of the cliffs beneath me were high and steep. In Donabate and Portrane, the local people tell stories of smugglers and shipwrecks around these cliffs. But looking out from the black stone cliffs onto the blue, sparkling, sun-kissed sea, I could have dreamt I was in Santorini.
The colourful names local people give to the places here include the Chink Well, which is supposed to mark the site of Saint Kenny’s, a Celtic stone church; the Priest’s Chamber, said to have been a hiding place in Penal times; as well as the Bleeding Pig, the Camel’s Hump, the Pig’s Back, the Piper’s Hole and the Mermaid’s Churn.
I walked on along the coastline until the Martello Tower at Tower Bay and the neighbouring coast guard station at Portrane came into view. Tower 7 in Portrane is now a private house, but Tower 6 in Balcarrick is bricked up and in a sad state of disrepair. That afternoon, the sun was not so strong, but it was still bright as I walked the beach at Corballis, south of the Martello Tower at Balcarrick.
Tests and consultations
Gentle rolling waves beneath Bray Head in Co Wicklow (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)Over the past two years, I have had batteries of tests in hospitals that have left me feeling tired, if not exhausted – lung tests in the pulmonary laboratory, three or four X-Rays on my lungs and on my knees, blood tests, consultations with specialists, consultants, nurses and dieticians, and a few overnight stays so that tissue samples could be taken from my lungs. At times, I don’t know whether the waiting or the tests are more demanding.
The recent news that my sarcoidosis has probably stabilised is good news indeed, offering hope at Easter. Those beach walks, which I hope to continue this Spring and Summer, play an important psychological role in reminding me that sarcoidosis can never deprive me of the pleasures of life. I may have sarcoidosis, but sarcoidosis will never have me.
The sandy stretches of Morriscastle in Co Wexford (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)Canon Patrick Comerford is Director of Spiritual Formation, the Church of Ireland Theological Institute, and a canon of Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin. This essay was first published in the April editions of the Church Review
(Diocese of Dublin and Glendalough) and the Church Review
(Diocese of Cashel and Ossory)
Then they told ... how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread
The Resurrection, by the 15th-century artist Piero della Francesca, is in the civic museum, formerly the town hall, in the Tuscan market-town of Borgo San Sepolcro
