mist
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Mist.

Tiny droplets of water suspended in air.

I got up one morning earlier than normal to take a walk up a hill beside me. As I walked higher and higher everything below remained under a blanket of fog, mist and light drizzle. You could come to the same place over and over again but each visit will be different. Everything changes in the mist.

Fóidin Mearbhaill – a phenomenon in Irish mythology of been enchanted and led astray in the mist.

The pictures below are what I saw!

Somewhere in the North West of Ireland!

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North West of Ireland.

The western counties of Ireland, in particular the Wild Atlantic Way, are quite busy during the summer months. The usual bucket list destinations attract crowds that fleet for a moment, capturing instagram friendly snaps, and off again leaving a trail of hash-tags and filters.

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Off The Beaten Track.

 

I’m not sure what it is that attracts me to hills. It could be a number of things.   It could be the reward of freewheeling manically downhill.  Maybe it’s the chance to empty your brain, focusing on the one task of carrying you and your bike upwards. Or perhaps it’s the self congratulatory pat on the back for your efforts .  It’s probably a bit of all three!
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