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While reading So it goes. Travels in the Aran Isles, Xian and places between<\/em> by Nicolas Bouvier, I recall my visit to Inis M\u00f3r, the largest of the Aran Islands on the West coast of Ireland.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And while life on the island may seem blissful and idyllic in the innocent July weather, the truth that spoke to me most eloquently was the one I saw hauntingly enshrined in this tree.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bouvier expresses this in the following words:<\/p>\n\n\n\n A wind which had picked up from Newfoundland would not let itself be fooled by a cliff, however imposing. For the wind it was less an obstacle than a riddle to which it had long known the answer. This is how it works: at the foot of the cliff it forms a cushion of air; from this springboard it rises up and starts again. When, having made the climb, it reaches the top and hurtles down the other slope in almighty gusts which flatten broom and thistles, it better not to stand in its way. A few meters from the fort, one of these gusts hit me, throwing me to the ground and tossing me into the stones and brambles like yesterday\u2019s newspaper. I saw my heavy camera bag bounding ahead to the green meadows, scattering the rabbits, and found shelter in a corner of the fort, hands and nose bleeding from scratches.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n I asked Hernon what people did here at this time of year.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “After the January storms, if the west wind sets in, they do nothing. The waves are too strong for coastal fishing. (\u2026) The walls around the kitchen gardens get repaired but the wind\u2019s too strong to spread seaweed on the meadows, it blows over the stone walls and then you have to start all over again. The men do odd jobs around the house, and drink; the women knit for the summer tourist trade. And not just any old knitting: each of the island villages, even if there are only four or five houses, has its pattern, like a brand. In the old days it was a way to identify the drowned who washed up on shore: crabs and fish don\u2019t eat wool. Today it\u2019s only the drunk who drown; they have their separate corner in the cemetery”.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n \/Nicolas Bouvier, So it goes. Travels in the Aran Isles, Xian and places between<\/em>\/<\/p>\n\n\n\n The same rugged beauty and harsh conditions that still define the Aran Islands are captured in the film Man of Aran<\/em> (1934), directed by Robert J. Flaherty. Set mainly on Inis M\u00f3r, it shows how islanders struggled to survive in a rocky, wind-swept landscape, creating soil from sand and seaweed and fishing from fragile currach boats on the rough Atlantic. Although some scenes were staged, the film conveys the power of nature and the resilience needed to live in such a demanding environment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n
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