We wanna see your Harry Clarks

Harry Clarke was an Irish illustrator and stained-glass maker. He made 14 windows at the Basilica of Saint Patrick's Purgatory in Pettgo, Lough Derg. He designed many of the designs from a sanatorium at Davos, Switzerland.

This is a Walk

Whatever we encounter we encounter

Saint Brigit

"I think she was born of a cow with a pillar of fire raising out of the top of her head...but I don't know...I wasn't there...I wasn't born."

"I could paint these trees forever"

During sleepy interviews we tried to go over the day or some moments that stood out to us. In this bit Mica talks about the colors in Fermanagh and tries to describe the indescribable. His oft repeated phrase "This could be anywhere" comes up- and the pals discuss how overexposure to images has mediated their own experiences of the real.

The 12th of July

While Ruairí packs up the tent in the morning. The day before we tried to bushwhack but the forest, but it was too thick. We learn about the 12th, it's meaning and why we stayed in the woods.

Pettigo and the Loud Sheep

A town split in two. On our way out of Pettigo Mica bought a postcard for his brother. The postcard was a photograph of a statue in the center of town. Oddly the photograph was of the statues back with colorful pennants strung up, but mostly fallen down around it. 
Near the end we we meet some rather burpy sheep.

Lough Derg and Gaeilge lessons

Raining outside the tent, and speaking in Gaeilge in the tent. On this night we camped out by Brigit's Well on the shore of Lough Derg. In the evening a car pulled up near our tent and two younger guys smoked a joint and blasted some techno. In the morning a truckload of forestry workers passed us by just after we took down the tent at 7 a.m. It was "wild" camping, or rather, illegal camping.

Porta Doris- Port of the Door

On the last night of our journey along the border we camped out at Porta Doris in some tall grass a few meters from the sandy beach. The midgies attacked like mad as Ru cooked us dinner and Mica set the tent up in spurts and starts so as to avoid the crazy biting cloud. This day we took a hard route up the River Foyle in a divorce boat. Stranded once on an oyster pot or trap, and one phone lost.