STONEWALK 2000: DUBLIN, REPUBLIC OF IRELAND TO BELFAST, NORTHERN IRELAND.

Complete Journal Entries from Stonewalk Ireland

Day 1 Wednesday 7/5

The Core Ireland Team consists of Dot Walsh, Andy Celley, Simon Augustine, Marty Schneier, Lewis, Meg, Chris, Mikey & Abbey Randa. (We will really miss core members Karl, Sue, Sara & Jamie Schlotterbeck and Earl Sandberry who will not be joining us, though will be with us in spirit, and will be part of Stonewalk England in 2001.)

As we travel through Ireland, we pray that we attract people who are as kind and committed as those who joined us down the east coast of the United States. And a special thanks to the many people who contributed financially, thus making it possible for the Ireland Stonewalkers to be part of this journey.

Our flight leaves Boston's Logan Airport today (7/5/00) from Terminal B at 4 PM. We arrive in Shannon, Ireland at 6:30 AM Thursday and will drive to Dublin to register at our hostels and make plans to unpack the caisson and stone which is at Dublin Port. We will be pulling the stone to the city center on Saturday morning where it will be placed for public viewing until it departs for Swords, Ireland. (Daily Schedule.)

It's interesting to note that Stonewalk America began on the 4th of July, 1999, and the stone arrived via freighter into the Port of Dublin on the 4th of July, one year later.

Keep us in your prayers.


Day 2 Thursday 7/6

We arrived in Shannon early Thursday A.M., safe and sound though jet-lagged and sleep deprived. The drive through the small towns and beautiful country roads got us excited for the journey ahead, as we passed beautiful seaside cliffs, old churches, and the quaint stores and pubs characteristic only to Ireland. We found a place to reside for the night at the Abbey Hostel on Harmony Street, in a small room with five bunkbeds. Although not quite the Ritz, it was better than the hot, crowded, messy motorhome from our first journey. We explored the town, got some food, and hit the sack early in preparation for the long haul to Dublin the following day.

Day 3 Friday 7/7

We arrived in Dublin, impressed by its incredible architecture and boisterous city streets. We found lodging at Trinity College, on its expansive, ancient campus, and got a good night’s sleep before embarking the next morning to the Dublin docks to meet the caisson and the stone.

Day 4 Saturday 7/8

We went from Trinity to get the caisson. After assembling it on the dockside, we were excited to finally get “back on the bars” and role it back 3 miles through Dublin to the college. It was an amazing experience to see the huge wooden gates of Trinity open just for the caisson, as we rolled past the throngs of people in front and into its campus.

Day 5 Sunday 7/9

On a rainy morning we met with Trevor Williams from Corrymeela, the reconciliation group in Northern Ireland, and gathered around the caisson for the opening ceremony. Trevor said some very poignant words to start us out, reminding us that we must be “patient with the past,” remembering to acknowledge its losses and tragedies even as we move into the future, including the loss of civilians. He then pushed with us about 7 miles through Dublin and out of its borders into the surrounding suburbs, and we were thrilled to be embarking toward Belfast at last. The weather is incredibly changeable, even more so than in New England, and we had to keep changing clothes, shedding them for the heat only to have to wrap ourselves again minutes later because of a rain shower. We found a place to park the caisson in the town of Swords with a woman named Claire. After having tea with Claire and her family in the back lawn of her home, we headed back to Dublin for the night, staying at hostel called Ashfield house in the center of the city.

Day 6 Monday 7/10

We picked up the caisson at Claire’s home, and although starting out later than we hoped, we had a wonderful day walking the stone across the Irish landscape. The fields slope away from road, and role across interlaced stone walls that fence in lush green grass and hundreds of sheep all the way to the horizon, lying under the biggest sky we have ever seen. We had less rain, and a good bit of sun. We were able to park the caisson in a vegetable factory right off the road, and then found a couple of bed-and-breakfasts nearby to stay in for the night. Before going to sleep we all had dinner in a pub there, which seemed to be the central, and probably only, hub of activity in the area. Walking back from the pub at night, we marveled at the beauty of the surroundings, the pristine fields dotted by enormous and perfectly round bales of hay, which in the half-light of late dusk were rendered hyper-real, taking on the visage of a painting.

Day 7 Tuesday 7/11

We were not able to start until late, because we were waiting for the arrival the police, or “Garda.” Once on the road, at one point we had to be rerouted off an approaching motorway that does not allow for any vehicles like our caisson. Initially disappointed because we would have to go several miles out of our way, this change in plans turned out to be a blessing, since it afforded us the chance to see some of the smaller, more intimate roads, and get even closer to the passing landscape as we moved through the town of Balbriggan. We were able to park the caisson at another private home, right off the road, owned by a sweet and giving woman who allowed us to leave it on her back lawn. The generosity of the Irish people never ceases to delight and surprise. They are a bit shy, almost bashful (especially the children), but once that initial barrier is dispelled they treat you like one of their own, with no further expectation or sense of obligation. Helping others is something that comes naturally to the people here, usually without hesitation or second thoughts.

After leaving the caisson we rushed back to Dublin so that the entire Stonewalk crew could see a performance of Riverdance. It is a dynamic show chronicling the history of Ireland through dance, and especially meaningful since we have been listening to its music constantly for inspiration as we push through the streets.

Day 8 Wednesday 7/12

We got another late start, but once on the road it was another successful day. For much of the time we had no police escort, which can be daunting sometimes since the roads are often narrow, winding, and hard to negotiate. We have had some difficult moments trying to move the caisson across roundabouts and over sidewalks, sometimes directing traffic ourselves as we race the caisson through one-lane passages of the motorways. At one point, on a smaller country road, in the midst of holding up traffic, we pulled the caisson next to a place called the Old Mill hotel, and were lucky to find help from three people from there who helped us up a very steep hill until we were out of town.

The rest of the day’s journey led us to the town of Dorgheda, where Cromwell had infamously invaded in the seventeenth century, and we found two hostels in the town for the night. The town is like something out of Cromwell’s time that has only partially been encroached upon by the modern age, and we saw several breathtaking churches and castles among the winding cobblestone streets.

Day 9 Thursday 7/13

Before leaving in the morning, a few of us gathered in the kitchen of one of the hostels to hear Lewis give an interview about Stonewalk on a national morning talk show, as he talked on the phone to the station right in an adjacent hall. Conveying the spirit and purpose of Stonewalk, he also urged people to join us on the motorway, telling the listeners that it is only with their help that we could get the stone to Belfast.

Pushing out of Dorgheda turned out to be the biggest challenge we have had yet. There was an enormous hill leading out of town, and we also had to block traffic as we negotiated the rise. Luckily, we were able to recruit three young men we met in the hostels who are traveling Europe, one from Lithuania, one from South Africa, and one from the States. We might not have been able to get up the hill without their help, along with the aid of a couple of Irish women and one man who spontaneously joined right off the street. Once past the hill and out of town, it was a great day of walking, with nice, cool weather, and no rain. We faced one more hill, not as steep as the one in town, but very long, going on for almost three miles.

At one point, trying to move across a major motorway, we were stopped by the Garda and made to move onto a smaller street, having to push the caisson backward onto it. Although a bit disgruntled, again this gave us the opportunity to see the countryside better. Later on in the day a press woman working for the Irish Times and Irish Independent, who had ironically been notified by one of the policeman who moved us and happened to be her boyfriend, came out to meet and interview us by the side of the road. It was bolstering to finally have some press coverage, and get the message out to the rest of Ireland.

After traveling about 12 miles for the day, we ended up in the town of Castlebellingham, finding a place for the caisson in the middle of a farm off the road, parking it fifty feet away from a herd of cows. While Lewis and Meg went back to Dublin to get one of our cars, the rest of our party went to the Crowing Cock pub for a hearty meal.

So far we have come forty-five miles from Dublin, almost half the total journey. To our amusement and joy, we realized that our original calculation for the journey was in kilometers instead of the miles we thought the numbers represented, and so we are much more on schedule, and much closer to Belfast, than previously thought. We were also happy to learn that Scott from the States and Vihand from South Africa have decided to join us for at least the next few days, and so they returned to stay in a bed and breakfast with the rest of us.

Day 10 Friday 7/14

After our best night's sleep so far, we were able to finally write something to send out to the website. Not being able to communicate through the web, and having a hard time by phone, has been frustrating, since we all want our families and friends, and friends of Stonewalk and the Peace Abbey, to know we are safe and making good progress.

We made our way out of Castlebellingham, and perhaps because of our press coverage in the paper and radio, it seemed that more people began to respond to us, beeping in their cars or waving. Several people have run up to the caisson or leaned out car windows to hand us money, which seems to be a kind of custom here, since we have no signs asking for donations. Once back on the motorway, we encountered a few hills, but for the most part the land seems to be flattening out a bit. Towards the end of the day, we started to grow tired, our backs and feet aching, and we trudged perhaps a mile or so more than some of us would have liked. However, our spirits rose again when we arrived at the convent of the Sisters of Mercy in Dundalk, where once inside the gate we found an elegant cloistered courtyard of gardens, statues and grassy alleyways. Once there, our kinetic energy gradually dissipated to a still, thoughtful quiet. Just before walking out, a few of us stepped into a mini-courtyard housing base-reliefs of several saints, and a graveyard for Sisters who had passed away, including a Reverand Mother who was the foundress of the convent in the middle of the nineteenth century.

That night all of us gathered in a wonderful pub to close the day with dinner and a few pints of Guinness, which is like the national staple of Ireland. Stepping out of the pub at about eleven o'clock, full and content, we marveled at the vast blue-grey nightsky, where there was still light lingering in the sky to the west.

Day 11 Saturday 7/15

A very exciting and full day: we began the morning back at the convent, gathered around the caisson with several of the Sisters of Mercy of Dundalk. Together we recited the peace seeds, the prayers for peace from twelve major religious traditions of the world. It was moving to see these women, so wholly dedicated within their own faith, struggling to follow along as we said prayers emanating from Hinduism, Buddhism, and Judaism. When we were done, we took some pictures with the sisters, who were all smiles as they wished us well on the rest of our journey.

Soon after we moved back onto the road, and were again joined by Trevor Williams, who was now accompanied by two other Irish friends, John and Pat. John, who has sad, slightly drooping eyes, looked strangely familiar, as if he somehow resembled an archetypal Irishman, especially one who might be caught up in some kind of political strife. This made sense when, a bit later, we learned that John is a well-known actor, and played Bobby Sands in the film "In the Name of the Father," which most of us had seen. Pat brought along his two young sons, aged five and eleven, who really enjoyed themselves, riding along with the driver of the caisson, or sitting on top of the bars as we pushed along.

When we came to the border, we stopped the caisson only yards away from where a British military checkpoint had been disbanded years before. Concrete blocks were all that was left to show it had once stood there. We all stood around the stone, and our three Irish friends talked poignantly about what it meant for them to walk with it from the Republic into the north. At one point John looked up from the stone to survey the surrounding hills, and remarked how he saw no divisions, no barriers, no walls in the immediate landscape, either natural or manmade. This is how it should be, he told us: "the bloodshed needs to end, the division needs to end." When we started the caisson again, into Northern Ireland, we noticed how the sides of the roadway turned red, to mark the British presence.

After climbing a long, slow grade we reached the top of the rise, and an immense, deep valley opened out before us, with sheep fields and houses nestled into the mountainside. This was the town of Newry, where a bit further down the road we found a church that would allow us to park the caisson for the night. As we dissembled the caisson, cars flowed down the hill from the church where Saturday mass had just ended.

Day 12 Sunday 7/16

We rushed from the B and B that had been our lodging for the night to attend Sunday mass at the church where the caisson was parked. Dot Walsh, one of our core members and a peace chaplain at the Abbey, spoke eloquently before the congregation about Stonewalk, and invited members to help us up the huge hill out of Newry. To our surprise everyone gave her an ovation at the end. And the service itself was tremendously moving: the songs of the choir were beautiful and soothing, Father Gregory received us warmly, and at the end we all took communion.

Earlier that morning we had said goodbye to half our party - Lewis's family, along with Conrad and his daughter Sarah, who are friends of the Abbey, departed for England and Dublin - and so we were down to six members, including our two new friends from the hostel. As cars streamed down the hillside again, many people offered money and talked with us, but no one stopped to help us push. Looking up at the road out of Newry, and considering our small numbers, this was the first time since the first Stonewalk in America that we felt truly intimidated about what lie ahead. Earlier three of us had had a difficult time just trying to role the caisson off the grass and back onto the road. But now we were able to get it going, and with shouts of encouragement to each other, and a burst of energy, we made it up the hill and back onto the plateau that would lead us to Belfast.

The ensuing day was our most difficult yet: with only six Stonewalkers, even small rises can be a challenge, and we faced some large hills. But we just bore down, had patience with the grade, and worked methodically to eat it away with slow, deliberate, painful steps. The sun was out, and surprisingly there were few clouds, so it also very hot in the midday. Our muscles and feet were reminded of Stonewalk America, when we had long, hot days with impossible hills. It was exhilarating and punishing at the same time, and when we were done we were proud to know we had finished eight miles. That night we parked in the back of a farmhouse, and headed off for the pub.

Day 13 Monday 7/14

Back at the farmhouse early in the morning, we set up the caisson as another sunny, clear day began. Since our experience the first day with the fickleness of the weather, and the sporadic rain gusts, we were amazed to be seeing one beautiful day after another. Earlier in the week, we had heard an Irish legend about St. Smithen's Day, which says that if it rains on that day, forty days of rain will ensue, but if fair, forty days of clear weather will follow. St. Smithen's day had been our first bright, hot day, and ever since then the legend had held up.

Before setting out with the caisson, we walked behind the farmhouse into a wheat field to say the peace seeds. The field lay on a small rise, and as we said the prayers, we looked out onto adjacent fields where sheep were grazing. The sky was blue and mild, and a light breeze blew the wheat gently around us. It was a very still and quiet moment, the perfect way to start out. We stood in single file along a tire track cut into the wheat stalks, and when we glanced down the line to the end we were surprised to see that the farmer had joined us, reading along with the peace seeds. It is moments like these that make the strain and difficulty of Stonewalk worth it, when we can bring something new to people, and when we realize they identify with our message enough to join, if only sometimes for a brief time.

But this moment was also a kind of calm before the storm, since with our small numbers we anticipated another grueling day as yesterday had been. We also knew that a steady incline of about three miles awaited us right from the outset. We started up the hill, and had been working at it furiously for about an hour, when Margo, a friend of the Peace Abbey who had been along for much of Stonewalk America, suddenly drove up with her entire family! They jumped out of the car and immediately joined us on the bars, helping us up the hill. The burden of the caisson for each of us dropped dramatically, and it felt a bit as if the cavalry had arrived as we now cruised steadily up the hill. It was also reassuring to see so many supportive and familiar faces, for Margo had interrupted a family vacation to bring along her entire family and her husband and three kids, all of whom had been with us last year at one point or another.

By evening we had all grown exhausted and needed quickly to look for a place to park the caisson. We found a home right off Route A1 (the road we would follow all the way into Belfast) owned by a very nice couple who had one of the loveliest English gardens we had seen yet surrounding their house and rimming the motorway. Luckily, we found out we had only to walk down a short country lane to find our dinner, at one of the most memorable pubs we would encounter, The Halfway House. Margo and her family treated us to dinner, and we all toasted their generosity and dedication to the Stonewalk project. Feeling grateful and with full bellies, we found our bed and breakfast at the end of road that wound precariously between stonewalls to the top of hill overlooking the town. It was owned by another gracious woman named Rhoda, who took good care of all us, allowing us to do laundry and use the Internet for e-mail. As I lay down to go to sleep that night, through the window of my room I looked out over the wide valley of Hillsborough, which cradled the glimmering lights of the town, and was overhung by a full moon and an illuminated sky.

Day 14 Tuesday 7/15

When we started out the next morning back at the house on A1, the owner invited us to look through his garden, which contained manicured rows of huge and fragrant flowers. He also told us that he held the record for the largest onion in the history of the island, 13 pounds, and led to the back of his house where, in makeshift greenhouses, we saw onions the size of volleyballs growing there. By the meticulous look of the setup, the man obviously took his onion harvest very seriously.

As we pulled out of their house, his wife was clearly very moved by our endeavor, for she could not stop crying as we shifted the caisson back onto the highway. I'm not sure whether she had lost someone directly in a war or in the Troubles, or if it was simply the cumulative effect of living with the Troubles in her homeland, but she seemed deeply affected by what we were doing. That in turn affected and gratified us, and some us had tears of our own because of her response. She wished us luck and we told her, "God bless you."

We had another hilly day, and unfortunately, in mid-afternoon it was time for Margo and her family to say goodbye. We told her family how grateful we were for their involvement, and what a difference it had made. As always seems to happen on Stonewalk, as with Scott and Wynand, or the people from the Old Mill Hotel who jumped on to get us up the hill in their town, or with Margo - good fortune arrives at just the needed moment, when it appears the caisson must either stall from our exhaustion or lack of body power or impossible traffic situation. Blessings keep coming to the rescue.

That day we had another blessing in the form of a man named William, a 79-year-old doctor who had worked in a mission in India for twenty years, is a veteran of several peace walks, and a local with an indispensable sense of the roads and the Irish people. William had formidable energy, especially for his age, and he amazed all of us by the way he would just trudge up and down the hills with the rest of us.

As the climax of that long, eventually 13 mile day, we climbed an unbelievably long rise until we reached the highest point that existed between Dublin and Belfast. This was perhaps the single longest hill we had faced, if not the steepest. After this point, we knew that it was mostly downhill towards Belfast, and as the sun began to weaken and the air grow cooler, we celebrated and relaxed as the grade slowly began to move downwards. At this point we could begin to taste the end of the journey. In Lisburn we found a house where it looked as if we might leave the stone for the night, and Lewis and myself, led by William, went to the back door to ask for accommodation for the caisson once again. A small older lady named Maude answered, and before William had even finished explaining what we needed, she agreed. But when she found out the full story of what we were doing, she looked incredulously past William at Lewis and I, who are both about five feet six, and said, "How are people as small as you are able to pull this thing that long?" Lewis and I, standing there tired and sweating, but bolstered by the physical accomplishment of the day, we who by this point had walked over six hundred miles with this stone, started to laugh hysterically. When Maude saw us laughing, she grew a little sheepish and started laughing herself. After we pulled the caisson into a back lot behind her house, William, Lewis and I hitchhiked back to our starting point to get our vehicle, and again it was William who led the charge, fearlessly requisitioning a ride from a local. He seemed to know just how to handle each situation, and had an open and straightforward manner that was admirable.

That night, we went to a pub in the small town of Hillsborough for a Guinness. Hillsborough is one of the quaintest towns we had seen, with winding streets, tiny shops, and in the center of town a huge stone Celtic cross in front of a thin, steep Protestant church. After the pub, we went to a restaurant where we met Peter, who is from Corrymeela, accompanied by his wife Heather, and one of their sons. Peter was helping us greatly with the media, garnering attention, setting up interviews, and arranging for meetings with officials, including the mayor of Lisburn the next morning. Later, after having a few drinks with his family and then saying goodnight to Peter, we searched in the night for a bed and breakfast. Luckily, at about 11:30, we found a place that would take us in.

Day 15 Wednesday 7/19

In the morning, back across the road in Lisburn with the caisson, we met the Deputy Mayor of the town of Lisburn, a large city lying outside of Belfast. He was very friendly and warm to us, and we spent a short time with him around the caisson before taking off, exchanging gifts and taking pictures. Then we headed into the city streets of Lisburn. Peter's family joined us to walk, along with Trevor, and several groups of young people from local church groups and Corrymeela. The garda, who had escorted us for only parts of the journey, rejoined us to help us find the best route, where we could avoid some major hills and be seen by more people along the way.

Peter really came through for us as far as organizing the last part of the walk, and setting up media contacts. Dot left us for a short time to do an interview at a nearby radio station. While she was gone, we pulled in by the side of the road, where I gave an interview to a local television station. And soon after that, a BBC television crew showed up to interview Lewis as he pulled at the front of the line.

When we pulled into the center of the city, our spirits and energy were high. We stopped briefly in a shopping district while Lewis left with Peter to give another radio interview. Once we started up again, we passed a group of local kids who looked very tough and slightly ragged. Although they couldn't have been more than ten or eleven, most of them were smoking cigarettes. But like most children who see the caisson passing by, they became excited at the sight of us and shouted in encouragement. We were able to persuade them to walk with us for a while, and they bounced along with Lewis and I at the front of the bars, happy to part of this strange parade through town.

Only a short distance after we passed out of the city, we crossed the city line of Belfast. We walked a couple of more miles through the suburbs, and then found a home right off the road with a driveway large enough to park the caisson. As usual, the homeowners showed no hesitation in obliging us. After dissembling the caisson for the night, Dot, her husband Andy (who is a core member), Wynand, and Scott headed off for William's house, since William had not only agreed to put them up for the night but also cooked them all a wonderful dinner of Indian food. Lewis, Marty (a teacher at the Life Experien ce School who is also a core member), and I headed back to Dublin to say goodbye to Marty and Lewis's family, who would be at Trinity College before leaving on the plane for home the next morning. Although it was getting late, on the way to Dublin we couldn't resist making two quick stops: one at the Halfway House pub for a last Guinness with Marty, and the other at Monasterboice, the oldest remaining monastery in Ireland, where in the fading heat we walked among the ruins, graveyards, and huge Celtic crosses.

Day 16 Thursday 7/20

This was our last day of walking, and we looked toward it with a mixture of relief and sadness. In the morning Lewis and I returned from Dublin to find a small group already gathered around the caisson, including some young people from the local area, several members of Corrymeela, and the founder of Corrymeela, Ray Davey, who was there with his wife. Those who had stayed at William's house had returned to the caisson in a cab, and en route they had told the cabdriver about Stonewalk. When he got to the caisson, he looked through the book we have carried with us the entire way from Dublin: called Lost Lives, it chronicles every man, woman and child who has been killed in the Troubles since the early seventies. The cabdriver found several people in the book he knew, and became so choked up that he had to quickly leave the caisson. However, Trevor later saw him sitting in his cab parked near the caisson, and the cabdriver told Trevor he would like to join the procession. Trevor told him he was welcome, but never saw the cabdriver again. We have decided to leave Lost Lives in the back of the caisson, open to different pages, so that anyone joining the walk is able to find someone they have lost to the Troubles and write an inscription on that page.

We headed into the city of Belfast, with some trepidation but also grateful that we would have a chance to walk the stone through an area that had suffered so much bloodshed and heartbreak. Stopping on the sidewalk in a rough, working-class neighborhood, we saw a huge painted mural of the thirteen Catholic hunger strikers led by Bobby Sands who had died in prison. Next to their faces was another mural showing a hooded man with a rifle standing above the caption, "You can kill the revolutionary, but not the revolution." Soon we began to see more and more pro-IRA graffiti, which in Belfast protests against and contends with the omnipresence of British and loyalist paramilitary flags and murals.

We decided to take an important detour through two neighborhoods, the Falls and Shankhill, which had been focal points of the troubles and are Catholic and Protestant respectively. Before leaving the Falls, we stopped at a formerly Mennonite church that now functioned as a reconciliation center, where the people there gave us a quick lunch of tea and biscuits. The church sits directly next to the Peace Wall, an actual stone structure that separates the Protestant and the Catholic sections of town. When we passed through the wall into Shankhill, we stopped so that Pat, who was back walking with his two boys, could say some words and explain the history and significance of the wall. He said that this juncture resonated with the first juncture we had crossed, that traversing the Republic and Northern Ireland, and both places were symbolic of the divisions that had plagued his people his entire life. The amazing thing about the peace wall is that it is the symbolic need for separation become concrete.

After passing the wall we soon came to the site of the Shankhill bombing in 1993, where thirteen Protestants had been randomly killed while shopping in a small market. The market, or one that had replaced it, was still there. A memorial park in remembrance of those killed had been built across the street, and we all went there to read the inscriptions and quietly reflect for a bit.

Then it was time to head to city hall. We passed through a busy shopping district, and then the street opened up to reveal the city hall build ing to us, our final destination. It is a magnificent building, with tall spires of green and white, and huge statues circling it on the front lawn. Right before its front gate was a cobblestone lot that was perfect for the caisson, and we rolled it onto there and came to a stop. Exhausted but elated, we looked up at city hall and around the streets of Belfast at the people passing by who were seeing the caisson for the first time. We marveled at how far we had come, how many hills we had climbed, how many people had helped us, how much beautiful countryside we had passed, and how we had seen the spiritual and emotional affects of the Troubles firsthand, in the faces and words of those we had met along the way. The mayor of Belfast came out to meet us, shaking all our hands and asking about our journey. He told Lewis, Peter and Trevor that he would try his best to have the stone placed on the lawn in front of city hall, so that it could be witnessed there for a year during its stay in Ireland.

After the mayor departed, we packed up the caisson for another year and watched it depart on a flatbed tow truck towards Corrymeela. All of us then went to a famous pub nearby, to have some Guinness and a hearty dinner, and celebrate our accomplishment as a group. After dinner we said goodbye to Pat and his children, and headed for the seaside town of Ballycastle, where the grounds of Corrymeela are. When we arrived there, it was the perfect, peaceful ending to the last two arduous weeks: Corrymeela sits on high cliffs overlooking the ocean, which that night was luminous, almost glowing, and in the quiet, late dusk we all went out to look across the water and take in the refreshing sea air. We then sat together in the main room of Corrymeela, while Peter's brother-in-law Rodney played Irish songs on his guitar, and talked about our journey and the future of Stonewalk. Finally, it was time to retire and get a good night's sleep.