Tionchar ár dteorainn: The weight of our boundaries

“The Station Gate” The station gate is a discreet right of way connecting the upper village of Kilronan to the lower harbour area. It is now appropriately without gates. Two cut limestone pillars stand atop a sharply inclined path of roughly laid concrete and stone steps. Flanked by a cliff, one of the large limestone terraces rising up to one side and a jumble of fields falling away on a lower tier on the other. As you ascend you are inclined to skip up the three stepped sections and walk the rough concrete, brushing off bushes and long grass as you go sometimes avoiding a stray briar’s limb. When you arrive at the pillars the ground is level and you cannot ignore the instinct to turn and view where you have ascended from, You look down upon the harbour, a scene of activity and the lifeline of a small community.There is always an air of anticipation at this point be it arriving or departing. You sense that it has been a place to stand and watch as long as there have been people to do so. The wind hits your face and you always feel awake. You then pass through the threshold of the two pillars less than a metre apart and each a metre and a half in height. You are gathered in by the shoulder high walls which surround the grassland beyond. This point of the journey is a reminder of the powers within a small community. Two walking paths converge at the pillars, one a perpendicular which leads to the residence of the local priest. The other is a continuation of the journey thus far which leads past the door of the local gárda station, hence “the station gate”. As a child this walk was always one of excitement be it on arrival or the beginning of a journey away, my perception exaggerated by the scale of the walls and the pillars to my stature. This was and still is the sentinel of all my trips to and from home.