And I like the tourists here.

The waters turn white from jumping onto the top of the strangely hexagonal rocks. They race in and out, in and out. These pillars of stone form the mythic Giant’s Causeway, a unique formation of rocks that were, as they myth tells it, built and partially destroyed by giants. The ocean’s waves arrive and make their crashing, leaping turn back out into the mass of the Atlantic. The sound booms and the white water sprays upward.

The textures in this place are mad. All of the rocks are in cleanly cut stacks, about a foot in diameter. The stacks are unevenly worn away, forming something like hexagonal checkers pieces stacked one on top of the other because of a kinging. Hop scotch here would be epic. Now this place, this inlet of beautifully strange rocks in front of these magnificent cliffs, is a true wonder. Everyone should visit.

And I like the tourists here. They’ve walked or ridden down the long path below along the ocean or the path above along the cliffs and don't seem to be in a hurry. Upon arrival they stand, wander, play about. Pairs and trios find a spot to sit here on the western, sunny side of the rocks. They feel the warmth of the sun, squint their eyes, scrunch their noses, look at each other, sniff the air clean ocean air and smile.

When we first begin walking on the Causeway I look up and see a sort of mist beginning to cover the land farther from us. Turning to my friends I call out, “Hey, it’s raining over there, I think.” And then warn, “It’s about to rain here, too, I think!” Sure enough, the rain runs right over top of us while the sun still shines. I hear a stranger say, “Look out for a rainbow.” Turning around, I breathe deep and close my eyes in reaction to such beauty. A full rainbow stands between me and the cliffs. There are neither leprechauns nor gold, but a gentle peace in abundance as the bright colors begin to my left in the ocean and arch into the sky, returning at the rocks splashed in tide waters.

I and my friends sit on the rocks accompanied by the sonorous and constant waves. Rhey gently comments, “I think this is, like... good for my soul.”

Bright clouds silhouette a mountain pass, creating the background for a mini inlet between the two small peninsulas of the mysteriously formed rocks. Wet, darkened stones shine bright white and grey as the sun hits them.

People give each other turns standing at the crest of the rocks; their bodies cast shadows onto the mist from the crashing waves. This eerily but comfortingly plays on the dramatic light. When the sun has fully arrived I can barely look to the water it reflects the sun so brightly.

“I’m finally starting to feel happy here,” I say, looking at my friends. This place, this journeying out into a new land, it is good for me.

I talked with an warm older Irish lady as we sat waiting for our bus to leave the Causeway. She had a face that looked as though she’d lived through many dark days but smile wrinkles giving light to her eyes. She said, looking out over the hills toward the ocean, “There’s a peace about this place. It’s the infinity of the sea and the light. It’s brilliant.”