Denise Hall: Spiritual trek across God’s own country
It had rained all night, heavy bursts that rattled the dormer windows. And it was still lashing by the time I took the dogs out. This was the third time I’d planned a trip to the lovely Gougane Barra, I realised morosely, as I sloshed down rain sodden trails.
A violent storm and severe flooding had stopped me before. Today it was just cold, and very wet with a nasty wind that drove the rain sideways. But then a handkerchief-sized patch of blue appeared suddenly in the sky and I decided to go for it.
