Shared moments of pure hilarity, exhilaration, exhaustion and appreciation for the here and now, for the scrumptious food, tasty beyond words, and the movement in time and space – apart. 

The essence of a retreat is to take that time away, to bend in to introspection, to perhaps flex the under-used parts of ourselves, to unearth hidden truths and discover what we allow to come to the fore.

Bere Island as the chosen destination for this ‘journey’ was the perfect place, the right kind of remote, with its village centre shop come café, pub, fishing harbours, and family run coffee cart on the walking trail to the white lighthouse perched atop the cliffs.  

Locals bused in from the mainland joined us interlopers and native islanders for the 5km park run on a sunny Saturday morning. We pushed the numbers up, but only slightly as the turnout was already impressive. As was the post trek spread of home baked goods, sausage rolls with built-in relish, moist cakes full of flavour, delicate coffee and creamy swiss rolls. We sat on curbs, slurping tea and replenishing those lost calories faster than the first home that morning.

Surrounded by water, always, the fitting theme of our retreat was in itself water. We swam at a deserted cove in the middle of an unmanned military range. Splendour amongst the shrapnel. Some tested the waters tentatively. Some jumped off piers. I found myself again in the cold that turned to comfort, basking amongst the streams of seaweed – long enough to wear draped around the neck, like a Hawaiian garland. 

Water, it was never far. Through a small wooden gate and over rocks, some dipped. Down weather worn stone steps at cul de sac piers, we persevered. Shouts of encouragement. ‘Get the shoulders under.’ Water drew us in like sirens, getting all of us in the end, even the reluctant dippers. Washed free of fears, cleansed, satiated.  

Thank you Aoife, Catriona and Tanya. x.