Curraghchase Forest Park

It is a spot on the map I'd had my eye on for a while. Curraghchase Forest Park, southwest of Limerick city. Was it a national forest? I did not know. In my imagination, the Irish woods were someplace wild and remote - a place to get lost from the modern world. The sun is just about to slip away as we enter into the park.

The park is large ponds, green fields, and an empty mansion resting stoically on the hilltop. All surrounded by woods. We warm ourselves across the pond on a bench in the last path of sunlight.

We wander up the hill and into a grove of the oldest deciduous trees I've ever seen. It feels wonderful to stand beneath their hush of ancient branches. I hear the earth whispering secrets in the evening air.

The next day, we return to the woods to experience more of the mystical trees. But getting lost in them takes more doing than it did the day before. It is a Sunday, and the park is a popular destination for families. David, three senior citizens, and myself are the only crew in the park without kids or dogs. After a couple hours, my thoughts cave in to the social pressure, and I daydream about having my own pet or baby. Then I remember how lucky I feel to be unencumbered by these responsibilities and become more observant of the actual scene. It is ironic that the same rewards and punishment system is used to domesticate animals as it is children. I notice kids on leashes and dogs carried like babes in arms.

All the noise is getting to me. So I slip on my iPod and the modern noise melts into modern music. The soundtrack is for walking these woods. The exuberance of a Jimi Hendrix solo articulates the sun touching the oldest tree. The Bird's lyrics are the water droplets on each blade of grass. The rise of Ornette Coleman's horn solo defines the arched walkway into wooded eternity.

Not exactly what I expected from the point on the map. From this experience, I realize that Curraghchase woods do not exist independently of me. I, like the families and dogs, bring my presence to the place. I experience the place with my body and senses and my personal history. I am apart of others' experience of the great woods as they are apart of mine.

It is an intrusion either way you look at it. Do the trees enjoy the buzzing of my iPod as I trample underfoot and get up close to poke their bark? Do the birds mind me gawking at them feeding their young? The least intrusive way to experience the woods is to turn iPod off and to observe the human noises mixed with nature's song as one great anthem of Curraghchase. That is this park.

And if you do want to edit the song, just wander a trail deep enough into the woods to tune out the human element. Listen and nature will solo like crazy.

Written by Liz O' Malley - Summer of Travel 2007