Wipe out memory

There are times when facebook can be quite useful. Like now, it just reminded me about our last year trip to Cornwall, I realised I never posted anything about it on our blog.

I like to take seakayak into surf and that Saturday the forecast for Sennen was looking amazing, I just couldn’t resist. As it was the beginning of half term holiday, we decided there was no point to try and leave London on Friday afternoon. The following morning the alarm went on incredibly early, luckily the drive although long went smoothly and we were at Sennen carpark just before 10am.

Surf was looking great with clean barrels rolling towards the beach. Natalie looked at them and said that I had one hour. Then we were to go for paddle…

I quickly changed and ran with my new Pace Action to the water. This was the perfect opportunity to try how well it surfs.

After a quick warm up I started to look for bigger waves. I was running out of time, one hour slot was almost gone and I was convinced I could see clean exit on main wave. So I went for it! Well, I went for it twice…


Although the title might be misleading, three zeros were seen just past the Carnsore Point. We left Kilmore Quay to continue our journey around Ireland. We had the most southeasterly point to go past, Carnsore Point. There isn’t much I can say about this only that instead of planned nuclear power stations it had wind turbines on.

The point itself provided some fun seas, and a slushy smelly short stop. We entered St George’s Channel, which connects Irish Sea and Celtic Sea, by now we paddled through both.

Our spirits were high when we discovered that each and single one of us has a zero on their compass. Yes, we can say it now, we started our last leg towards finish. Yet, nothing is straightforward, and with Lindsey’s back to work day (Monday) fast approaching, the weather seems to like to keep us in the unknown in terms of when the finish will be.

The coast settled into a long line of beaches, which some may describe monotone, but I like long unchangeable coastlines as much as I like cliffs, islands, and anything else.

We made stop in Rosslare for ice cream, and tea-coffee, before continuing with another tide later that evening. We are committed to distance once again. Sadly this resulted in beach camping, but at least this stretch made it into another film “Saving Private Ryan” this time.

The following day, apart from surf launching, brought another long stretch of beaches. However this time regularly broken down by views of smaller and bigger villages, a harbour or two, and eventually some mini cliffs.

Done with surf landings and launching, which I like as much as camping on sand, we were heading to Arklow, big harbour.

Big harbours aren’t easy for camping, yet we were lucky, and ended up staying in Arklow Rowing club for two nights while the weather settles down.


We were on a mission to cover distance and distance again. So far so good, but ahead of us was the Hook Head, not the most fearful of headlands we paddled past so far, still it needed some caution.

The chart showed a tide race called Tower Race, and in my experience, if tiderace has a name, it needs to be approached with caution. We started our journey on Bunmahon beach, where we spent two nights. We were on the copper coast and this little village used to be big mining town with about 1500 people living here at some point. Hard to believe now, but the reminds of the mines could be seen on cliff tops. The coast was again spectacular, stacks and arches, if only the swell allowed us to explore. This time we were not alone on the sea, and actually met and exchanged few words with random kayakers, from Bristol, and local ones, too.

We passed the Metal Man statue on a headland just outside Newtown Cove at Tramore. Built in 1823 instead of a lighthouse, his right hand is pointing away warning passing ships to stay away from dangerous rocks.

We landed in the harbour of Dunmore East for tea-coffee, amazing lemon drizzle cake and to think of where to next. We had good wind behind us all day, but the forecast was showing force 5 at Hook Head. Some of us were reluctant to go. In the end after much sitting, thinking, and mulling things over, we decided to paddle across the bay to be closer to the Hook the following day. However, the landing places were a bit unsure, so we decided to pick one closest to the head hoping it would be sheltered enough to land that day and launch the following. Then we decided that we might as well see if we can go past the headland. Best decision ever!

As we approached the other side we could see that landing isn’t great, oh well, we had to paddle past the head, which actually looked better than expected. And that was great, as I really wanted to be done with it. The Hook lighthouse stood high overlooking our evening paddle. We decided to continue towards Baginbun Bay.

Baginbun Bay was the place where Normans landed in 1170, they chose wisely as it is very sheltered bay. And although I absolutely hate beach camping, it was one of the nicest beaches we’ve seen so far.

Sadly we didn’t really have time to make the most of this beautiful place, and while some people enjoyed a swim late in the evening, we were heading to bed, as we decided to get up in the dark and be on the water before sunrise. And no, it wasn’t because we wanted to embrace the whole ‘see sunrise on the beach’ idea, we wanted to make progress before the wind picked up later that day.

We had an offer to visit our friend’s cousin in Kilmore Quay, and with forecast promising another non paddling day the following day we were keen to make it.

Little did we know this leg was turning into a small journey throughout history. We passed the world’s oldest lighthouse built some 800 years ago. We landed where the Normans did. We rounded headland which stood at the origin of the “by any means” phrase. There are many theories of its origin, but I obviously like the one acclaimed to be made by Oliver Cromwell to take Waterford by Hook, on the Wexford side of Waterford Estuary, or by Crook, a village on the Waterford side in mid seventeen century.

We had no idea then that the family we were to stay with, Anna, Jim and Jack were from Butlerstown Castle. Their family came to live in the area when they had to leave England after being on the wrong side during the Civil War.

And that’s how we came to stay at the castle for two nights. I have seen many Tower Houses around the coast of Ireland, but this one I could actually visit.

We had good rest among woodlands and flowers, the furthest inland we ever got to. Our boats stayed on the beach in Kilmore Quay, as always, we believed that people are good. They were, even in Kilmore Quay, and the person, who went through our front hatches didn’t take anything more than my half empty bottle of whiskey.


We had a lovely weather day off in Ballycotton. The following day the forecast was suggesting an early window before the wind goes to F5 or F6 or F7 depending which forecast we checked. We made the plan of getting up at three in the morning, start to paddle with the first light, then finish early in the day as the wind picks up. We decided to go step by step bay by bay depending on the conditions.

It wasn’t that bad getting up so early, and soon we were paddling, later enjoying the sunrise.

We rounded first headland at Knockadoon Point, and landed for breakfast. I have to report that the best portaloos in Ireland are to be found here. Open, clean, and having not just one roll of paper in the dispenser, but one free standing one, as well as two yet unopened packs of four rolls each. It’s small things that make us happy nowadays as well being important to us.

From then we went towards Ardmore. The sea was calmer than we thought and the wind mild. I never tire of looking at the coastlines, cliffs, beaches, but thought for those, who do, I will not include any landscape pictures for once. Ardmore was great, we managed to get tea and coffee and ice cream.

Then off we went past Mine Head with a stop on the beach past Helwick Head. Here, late in the afternoon the few hours of sleep we had, the early start and the distance started to show up. Luckily, Lindsey could get a bit of quick canine therapy and was good as new to continue.

I don’t like the idea of finishing paddling landing on potentially surfy beaches in areas that are exposed in weather that is unsettled, so we agreed to aim as far as we can, preferably to a harbour just west of Annestown. And definitely I wasn’t going to finish on Bunmahon surf beach. But obviously, sometimes these things just happen, and when the wind finally picked up some 12 hours since we started paddling, and raised the sea to quite a wavy one, we had to get off.


The weather has been favourable to a point that Lindsey would check forecast and almost sight that there isn’t a rest day to be seen. And that is good as we felt we were ready to put some miles in. The weather forecast didn’t always deliver the promised low winds but we enjoyed the occasional headwinds nevertheless. Well, most of us.

Our flight started with crossing from Bolus Head in county Kerry just short distance south of Portmagee to Dursey Island. Long crossing with the possibility being broken off by landing on Scarrif Island. Sadly the swell was lively and we could not make landing on steps apparently carved in cliff by monks long time ago.

We had quick break on the water on the south side of the island and continued towards Dursey. We spent two days in Portmagee as we were waiting for conditions to improve for this crossing. If we had doubts the day before, we were happy with our decision as the calming sea changed significantly the closer to Dursey we got. We surfed into the sound and looked for place to land. We decided to land on mainland side of the sound. With the only Irish cable car over sea water overhead we made to the slipway.

Zoe approached the slipway first, but suddenly started to slide back into the water. I wanted to help her, so approached the slipway, jumped out, and only as I started to slide back into deep water I heard warning of it being very slippery. Zoe had drysuit, I had dry trousers, my cockpit filled by dumping wave, yet I managed to jump back onto the boat before the water reached my waistline. I was floating on top of my boat, Zoe was swimming to the shore, Lindsey landed on steps in almost civilised way. People fishing on the pier had no idea of the evolving drama. Fortunately eventually Zoe reached the non slippery part of slipway, my boat drifted to shore, and Lindsey came to help to recover casualties. After coffee, tea and ice cream from the cable car car park we were ready to launch again and push toward White Ball Head.

We left White Ball Head into a calm sunny morning, ahead of us was a long crossing across Bantry Bay followed by Dunmanus Bay, we decided to go straight for Mizen Head. The sea was flat and we settled into a rhythm which will be broken by sips of water, snacks and occasional closing and opening of drop seats, we had twenty kilometres to do. The views were great, Bear Island, Sheep Head, Mizen Head, lighthouses, sky, occasional yacht, then the dolphins appeared.

Several different pods, coming closer to us, some of them jumping high out of water, some going right under our kayaks. Where crossings go! It was one of the most pleasant ones. Mizen Head came and went, but with nowhere to land we had to continue further choosing Gully Cove as our late lunch stop.

In the end we didn’t make it quite there, and landed in dead seal tiny cove. As the dead body was floating closer to us on the shore, we decided to bring our lunch to early end, and paddle off. Gully Cove looked very inviting, sun, campsite, probably coffee and tea, too. Unfortunately it was a bit too much inshore for our liking, so we decided for another almost twenty kilometres paddle across to Cape Clear.

We were in luck, wind and tide were helping us on the way, Isiah coast passed by changing on the left, the Fastnet lighthouse staying constant on the right. Cape Clear harbour was basking in afternoon sun enjoying late Saturday evening.

The following day we started into headwind and tide, yet eventually it settled behind us and we paddled one of our longest day all the way to Long Strand at Gully Head.

There isn’t much that is worth to report on from this leg, maybe the state of our lunches. We started with one little dry bag. But suddenly Lindsey was pulling dry bags, number of tupperwares and random bits claiming this all was lunch. Lindsey does carry our food. It’s good really!she paddles slower that Zoe and I but if we want to eat, lunch or dinner, it is in our best interest she gets where we get to, and too far behind us.

We landed on a beach, not great, a bit surfy, but closest to our next target the next day. The sign said no camping clearly, fortunately coming from the sea we couldn’t really see it. We went to hide in by the river, yet there happened to be quite a community of random sleepers, some in vans, some of us in tents. We ended up with a bottle of rose.

Surfy beach is a surfy beach and in the morning we put our helmets on hoping it would be only this one time on this trip. We had another long day ahead as far as we could go. Yes, at the moment distance is our main focus. Progress was slowed down by headwind again, and we ended up rounding the magnificent headland of Seven Head and arrived to a beach. As often we didn’t know the name but that it was camping kayakers friendly. Someone was watching us landing, we were worried it was someone on whose land we would need to pitch. To our surprise, later a man called Pat turned up welcoming us on Blind Strand bringing us beers. I think we like it here.

Blind Strand was also an important place as we could meet Chris, who used to paddle with us in London, currently based in a Cork, but suddenly turned into support crew. We happened to be reduced to one tiny gas stove, both petrol MSR and gas one giving up on us. Chris brought us new stove, more gas, and a surprise Swiss Roll. Amazing.

The Old Head of Kinsale was our next target. In our hastiness we only realised it was time to say good bye to Atlantic about five kilometres before it. We read in the guide book that apart of several different tideraces running alternatively on the west and east going tides, it also had some tunnels through. And since we were paddling against tide since early morning we decided we were going through them.

What an experience! Not really sure of the actual distance, but we were surfed through a very narrow darkish space for at least 100 metres, and emerged in Celtic Sea. Wow!

What followed was one long day, the longest by hours spent paddling, almost 13. We seen a lot of coast passing by, stopped in Man of War cove, then crossed Cork Harbour.

The last stretch to Ballycotton was a trying and tiring one. We were pushed by tide and wind, yet, it just felt very very long. Eventually we arrived.

It was hald past nine in the evening, we were hungry, tired, all we wanted was to have food and go to bed. Yet, when expeditioning it’s never straight forward, the boats need to get above the high water line, the tent needs to be pitched, the food needs to be cooked. Important is to keep the spirits high.

Pitching in busy harbours in biggish places is challenging, we were lucky to find a patch of ground to squeeze ourselves on. We already knew we would be here for two nights.

Ballycotton is a former fishing village. Very often our trip is not really about places we see, but people we meet. Towards the end of our weather day Lindsey met Clare, local artist and volunteer at RNLI station. Lindsey bought a lovely picture, and we all ended up having a shower in the art gallery slash hallway slash artist’s home.

One more information to add. Ballycotton has a view of a lighthouse on Ballycotton Island. We saw plenty of lighthouses, but this one is a black one. There are only two black painted lighthouses in Ireland, we passed the other one weeks earlier when rounding the Slyne Head.

Do we go or do we stay?

We arrived to Portmagee and already we knew we would spent at least a day here. Camping was ok, short carry, two flat patches of ground between high water mark and a fence, most importantly just outside the town.

Already on arrival to Knights Town on Valentia Island we found out that due to cut cable internet was down in the majority of the county, fortunately we scraped enough cash to have dinner, leaving shopping for the next day. Days off could be as busy as paddling days. Pleasure first, that was a nice breakfast, then duties. We had to hitchhike to Carsiveen to withdraw money and do shopping. However they had a leisure centre, so long soak in the pool, jacuzzi, and shower was great, followed by more coffee and ice cream later. Even if we had to hitch back again, it all went ok.

Portmagee used to be a small fishing village, now it’s a gateway to Skellig Michael. The place from Starwars as known to most people. The island where monks lived in beehive huts for others. We settled for local sights.

The following day we had to make decision to paddle or not. The wind looked all over the place, the swell being blown up by day of high winds. We had cliffs to paddle past, then long crossing towards Dursey Island. Go or not to go. What will we gain by going, maybe ten kilometres past the cliffs. We probably won’t be crossing. But would we be able to paddle the following day, when the forecast is still showing as being unsettled. Some of us wanted to go, some not, the decision process can sometimes take time.

In the end we decided not to go, and spent the day exploring the Kerry Cliffs, from the land. Splendid, we could see as far as Great Blasket island, Puffing Island, and Skellig Michael with Little Skellig in the background. And of course we could see the whole area of Portmagee sound with Valentia Island. And no, is does not derive its name from Spanish town of Valencia, it comes from Irish and means “island in the mouth of the sound”, and that’s exactly what it is.


Our journey around Ireland has suddenly reached the point when it could be called hard core expedition. Two reasons, one very personal, I’ve had porridge for breakfast four times now. The second one is a team one, we did get up at 4.30am today to paddle. And that is definitely hardcore.

We need to catch the tide to take us through Bull’s Mouth on the north side of Achill Island. And as we chose not to paddle against it in the most narrow place, the early wake up had to be sustained. However this resulted in a welcome surprise for Lindsey.

We reached Achill Sound, and by 8.30am after two hours of paddling, and she got a proper cup of tea. We don’t carry milk with us, and neither do use powder milk, so proper cup of tea is only for weather-bound days and special occasions.

We continued south and passed Kildavnet Castle, a tower house built in 16th century by the O’Malley’s clan, and connected to pirate princess.

From here we crossed over to Clare Island. Lindsey could not believe her luck, it was only noon, and with our lunch she had another cup of proper tea.

Clare island also has a tower house, this one wider, known as Granouaile’s Castle, and the pirate princess is said to have her head buried here.

Since we started so early, we had plenty of time to go where we pleased, and so we decided to continue to Inishturk, some two hours of paddling from Clare.

Here we didn’t find any tower house, but had another opportunity to indulge Lindsey in yet another cup of proper tea. Now, I can’t complain as it meant I squeezed three cups of coffee from todays’ paddling as well.

And since Inishturk offered great views of Clew Bay we decided to stay here tonight.


The weather started to catch up with us just as we wanted to make progress and turn a corner out of the huge Donegal Bay. However it seemed to be possible only in small steps. Why not, in the end, the good thing about small steps is, we get to see a bit more landscape inland.

We left Portulin hoping that the cliffs will provide us with enough shelter from the south easterly wind to round the corner into the Broad Haven Bay. No such luck, and after a short paddle and strong gusts of wind, we landed in Portacloy.

The plan was to wait for few hours, when according to the forecast the wind should drop down a bit. The wait was great, sun was warm, the beach beautiful. Only the wind seemed to want to stay and blow. When it was time to go on the water, we took one look out on the sea, and it just didn’t feel good, to me at least. So we all decided to stay, but move from the beach to the pier for easier haul of the boats above high water mark.

The pier itself was constructed in such a way to attract fairly strong dumping side wave on the slipway, the kind that likes to play with heavy loaded kayaks. Our solution was to tie one kayak to the side of the pier, then have two of us available to get each kayak up the slip. Great plan. I clipped my kayak on the tow line, helped Zoe, then Lindsey to land. Every time I looked, the kayak was there bobbing happily by the side. It was there when I caught Lindsey’s boat landing. It wasn’t there when I looked having pulled Lindsey’s boat two metres up the slip. Where was my boat?

Well, to cut a long story short, my boat was on its way to Broad Haven. Oh dear, so we launched Zoe’s boat with Zoe in it, and after short while she brought the unruly craft back again. Sadly no photos as the camera was just bobbing on my deck. A fairly uneventful afternoon followed, but we found a shop in the neighbouring village, where Lindsey was allowed to keep Thurrock’s waffles with expiry date in 2012 for free. We also found a rather eccentric pub, but we couldn’t stay too long, as for the following day we planned early departure hoping to squeeze the journey to Belmullet before the headwind picks up to beyond our ability to paddle against it.

Despite the shaking tent at five in the morning telling us that the wind was ready and waiting, the sea looked very calm, so we decided to give it a go. The first few kilometres were very pleasant. We paddled past several headlands with stacks, caves, and tunnels. The view of the Broad Haven stacks was amazing. We managed to hop between shelter and headwind and hide close to cliffs.

Until we came to Doonanierin Point, where our first crossing into the headwind was to start, an unpleasant hour of hard work towards Brandy Point, then another shorter one to the lighthouse at Gubacashel. The wind was increasing, we took it step by step, as we really really wanted to get to Belmullet. Zoe wanted to get through the canal from Broad Haven Bay to Black Sod Bay, Lindsey wanted to get to supermarket, I just wanted to get somewhere and stop.

Belmullet, according to sources the origin of the name is unknown, but might mean ‘mouth of the ismuth’, and that’s great, as I like ismuthes or isthmi. The town history is quite short, but in 16th century an admiral was chasing pirates in around that area. He made it into Broadhaven Bay, made his boat to be portaged across the isthmus and caught up with them near the islands on the south west side of the peninsula. The canal we were aiming for was conveniently built for us during the 18th century by Sir Arthur Shaen, who decided to develop the town, and to gain better access to the area had the canal excavated. It’s not used anymore, but was perfect for us. We found a place at the northern side of the Black Sod Bay to stay to wait out the few following non-paddling days. Belmullet has not been an old historic town, and long had its heyday, but for us it had all what we needed: cafe, pubs, supermarket, swimming pool, and tidal pool for Lindsey.

Shangri-La of the Atlantic

One long winter evening few of us were siting in cosy London pub talking about paddling. Somehow we ventured to trips we went on and what we liked and enjoyed and what might be the next. I have mentioned my memories from Iceland when I was sitting in the rain being cold and wet thinking, “why am I doing this? My next paddling holiday is going to be in France, somewhere in the sun, drinking wine every evening!” Toby said, sounds perfect. Would you join me in Brittany next summer? We started to look at possible places straight away, flipping through charts and websites on our phones. I have seen this French guy, paddling some big stuff said Toby and went on kayak tinder. Next minute he sent a message out, “Hi Nico, we like your pictures, it would be cool to paddle together when we come to Brittany.”

Now we were about to meet Nico, he said everything is good for tomorrow. We are all invited to my friend’s party, we can plan where to go while we are there. BBQ, beer, wine and cognac is a great combo for kayak planning. There is an offshore island here suggested Nico, we will have downwind conditions and we could go there. Next morning we were more serious. There is F7 in the forecast but we felt like we could still go, while we were checking our numbers and timings when Nico causally mentioned, the forecast says 5 meters waves but that never happens with a northerly wind…

We pack our kayaks on the beach and enjoyed coffee in the sun. There was almost no wind, the bay was flat like a pancake and we were off. Just as we were passed the lighthouse and entered deep, open water, the wind picked up. Now we were surfing downwind in F6, deep into the fog following a compass bearing. Waves were getting steeper and bigger, gusts of wind were hitting us hard and it was almost impossible to take one hand off the paddle. Now we were trying hard not to loose sight of each other in big waves. We were not surfing anymore, we were trying hard to let the steep, big waves just pass under our hull and brace for the impact of the crest.

Suddenly big dark cliffs emerged just ahead of us framed in big white spray of the wild sea crashing against the rocks “He who sees Ushant sees his own blood!” Is an old Breton proverb.

Now we were paddling hard across the wind to avoid the lee shore and get behind the reefs. We could still see each other between waves but nobody was waiting. With a few last big waves, we surfed behind the reef. We slowly paddled to the beach, the sun came out, the water was flat. We have made it!

As we walked around the island, orange cliffs were lit by the sun. Heavy seas were crashing into the rocky shore. White houses with blue window shutters were scattered around in deep green grass. There were bars and beer on every corner. We walked inside, with “we are the champions” playing loud and ordered our drinks with church bells ringing in the background. We were in a magical place!

It was time to leave. We packed our boats on the beach overlooking the chain of neighbouring islands and lighthouse in the middle. This would be pleasant paddle back we thought. Just as we did the first few paddle strokes into Passage du Fromveur, fog descended on us and we were finding our way between ghost ships briefly emerging and following our compasses. A few hours later we landed back on the beach. The sun came out, the fog lifted. We drank our coffee, thinking we must go back. We know, there is an Island out there. We just have to wait for another storm to find our way to this place again.


We left campsite and the soulless beach bar of Aughris Head behind. Ahead of us was a long stretch of coast exposed to the swells. Yeah, if there wasn’t swell on the north west side of the Donegal Bay, it definitely found us here. And is we were following cliffs coastline there wasn’t respite until we came into a sheltered bay close to Easky. The forecast looked ok, so we decided to continue, maybe cross the Killala Bay before the winds pick up. We left and once we rounded a corner and paddled a fair distance from the last possible get out, the winds picked up, and so did the sea.

There’s not much to say but that it was a committing paddle in swell from the side then breaking on the shallows along the cliffs. We continued until the Lenadoon Point, and that became our destination for today. Deciding we need to be off the water ASAP, we landed on a tidal pavement of flat lying limestone, and made a decision to worry about low water launching when it will be happening.

The camping spot was a bit of Wuthering Heights, but apart from that, we were safe, and had a whole afternoon off.

The stoney platform was amazing, lots of fossils. And Zoe informed us it wasn’t just an ordinary windy hill, it was a drumlin. Now drumlin is apparently an elongated hill I. A shape of half-buried egg, it’s created by the glacier. Now she was excited as she never camped on a drumlin before, I still prefer ismuths more. Nevertheless the numerous fossils found in the limestone around us did make it quite exciting and entertaining place.

The forecast calmed for the following day, and we went through a time consuming routine of carrying several bags down to the low water mark, than wheeling the boats there, packing them, then leaving. Still at least we could use the wheels navigating then around limpets and across seaweed.

Our target today was crossing of he Killala Bay but as we went, the conditions didn’t worsen, and so we decided to continue. It led past impressive cliffs, however, we had to look more towards the sea rather than land as the waves were still impressive.

We rounded Downpatrick Head and surfed downwind past the stack. Now, the stack, Dun Briste, which means Broken Fort, was quite interesting, and apparently in the 14th century people lived on the stack, when it collapsed. We were hoping to get shelter and landing behind it all.

Then it happened. On the road on the land a spotted a white van pulling IT. I now recognise IT quite well. And it is my proof that there’s indeed coffee and tea available when one lands for a break from kayaking in Ireland.

This one was called TEA BY THE SEA. The owner was very friendly man and not only I managed to get my order through while he was still setting everything up, we were given the drinks for free. I didn’t have much time to hang around as our boats were slowly pushed up stoney ledges on the incoming tide. But the drinks were very appreciated by the rest of the team.

We discussed whether to look for landing for the day or continue, the conditions we seemed to be constant, not increasing, so we chose the next possible landing, and set off. The paddle was great, past many interesting cliffs, only downside was that we missed our landing place. However, I wasn’t disappointed much hoping that since the conditions are so great, a bit of swell, but wind pushing us along, we could make a bit of progress.

We have, and eventually landed in a small fishing village of Portulin. The camping was a little squashed on a tiny patch of grass right above the slipway, but it came with our own terrace. The evening was sunny, so the wasn’t much more that was missing from happiness.