Up where the air is clear

After the madness of Puck Fair, we headed to a mountain lake to search for prehistoric rock art, which abounds in these parts.

Did we find any?

No, we bloody didn't. But we did wander round Coomasaharn Lake, which is beautiful: icy, forbidding and dark one minute, sunny and warm the next (as they say in Kerry, if you don't like the weather, come back in 15 minutes - I travelled with waterproofs and Factor 50).

The place was full of rocks, montbretia and fuschia making the hedges walls of bright colour, rusty farm equipment of the kind I love - a Welsh farmer poet once told me that Welsh farms only produce two things: shit and scrap - and abandoned Famine cottages everywhere you look. The clean air encourages mosses and lichens, and the views over to the next peninsula are amazing. The rest of the pictures are here (including those of the Lamborghini sitting outside a farmer's cottage) but here are a few samples. Best viewed in full-screen by clicking on them.

Royal Baking Powder tin, sitting on the windowsill of the cottage above

Moss on a wall