The dark mounds on the far horizon gradually grow in size and emerge in a combination of black and green. The wind is blowing in my hair as I watch our progress from the front railing of the upper deck. The sun is warm on my body. The details of the crashing waves on a rocky shore materialize with greater clarity as we approach.

My first glimpse of Ireland reveals gently rolling lush green hills highlighted by a patterns of shadow and sunshine. The fluffy clouds thicken as we near the shore. A stark white lighthouse sitting atop a stone base sits alone in the middle of the sea. It marks the entrance of a channel that directs us into the Rosslare Harbour. I snap a few pictures. My excitement is rising.

A red lighthouse sits on the end of the dock. It grows in size as we approach.
Seamen are working below preparing the ropes to fasten us on our arrival.
Intent on watching the churning water and ever-increasing detail on the shore, I am surprised when our tour guide calls my name and tells me to hurry back to the van ready for departure. I do not want to leave the railing and miss the moment when we touch land. This is my first arrival in Ireland. I don’t want to miss it!

I also do not want to cause a problem with our group. I quickly choose based on the outcome I hope to achieve and reluctantly turn away from the action. No point in incurring criticism unnecessarily.

I carefully make my way down the very steep narrow stairway to the lower level where the van is parked. There is a steady stream of people and for a moment I am claustrophobic, fearing that if we bump the docks and there is a sudden jolt, I will be cast headlong down the stairs and end up in a heap of people at the bottom. I block this negative thinking, concentrating on my footing. Leaving a space of several steps ahead of me, I use both hands to hold a firm grip on the handrail and cautiously descend. Thank heaven for shoulder straps on my purse and camera.

The others are all there when I arrive. I climb into the last seat and close the door. After the fresh sea air and the freedom of wandering about the ship, I feel even closer and more confined than ever before.

I can feel the vibration of the ship’s engines suddenly thrust into reverse. I imagine the churning water foaming as the propellers work to slow us. My right hand instinctively clutches the air in memory of using the throttle on my own power boat. Slowly back, then forward adjusting the speed and direction for a gentle landing.
Engines start to rumble all around us and in less time than I would ever have imagined, we are moving forward. The offloading is efficiently and quickly done. I would have been left on deck if I had stayed to watch the landing. For a moment in my minds eye, I can see the green van pulling away and leaving me stranded before I even set foot on Irish soil. Suddenly, I am thankful to be exactly where I am.