Today was the high point of the first winter storm (at least while we’ve been here). The waves were rough enough that there were no surfers, and the wind virtually howled around the corners of every building in town. I woke up to rain pelting against the windows and the wind shrieking its defiance against the stone and mortar of our house.
As you can see here, the waves were ridiculous today. This is the aftermath of a wave that rocketed right up to the promenade, a structure normally over 30 feet above the beach. The foam from the waves blew across the water and up to the street, covering people, cars, and buildings with white flecks of indeterminate origin.
One of my coworkers, who also happens to be my near-daily lift into Inis Diomain, had originally planned to have surfing lessons today. Needless to say, those plans were shot.
Sam caught some footage of the storm, but he didn’t have to venture very far down the beach to do so. He’s leaning over one part of the promenade, as you may be able to deduce, and the wind is still fierce, although this was a brief period in which it wasn’t raining.
He may be exaggerating his expression, but as you can tell, the wind isn’t playing around. There weren’t a lot of people around today, despite it being a bank holiday weekend, and I don’t blame them.
The storm, combined with the onset of Daylight Savings Time, made for an early nightfall. I decided to hitchhike my way to Liscannor as planned, and thankfully I was picked up quickly. The music was wonderful, although not as varied as last week, and I enjoyed myself immensely.
The storm hadn’t calmed by the time I returned to the house, so I opted out of going to the pubs. Instead, I fell asleep to the whistling of the wind.