Les Hannah, day 4, part 2

We landed at London Gatwick about 15:40, and by the time I gathered my bags and made my way through the people it was a bit past 16:00. From this point on my travels were by rail. I rode the London metro-rail to St. Pancras International station where I changed trains. Here, I was able to check something off my bucket list. I wanted to ride the Eurostar, the Channel Tunnel (Chunnel) high-speed train. I purchased my ticket, headed to the platform, and awaited my train.

I had just enough time to make it from the ticket windows to the platform and only a few minutes before my train was to depart; that was at 16:45. Settling into my seat on the Eurostar train was not as easy as I thought; well, for me it was, but settling the three large bags containing my Danish life was a bit of a challenge. But I did it; I found a secure place for them to ride it out, and then I settled in for the train ride I had dreamed of.

As the Eurostar left the St. Pancras station and got up to speed, which did not take long for that to happen, I reflected more on the visit to Ireland I just left.  Some of the last places Reamai took me were old Gaelic cemeteries. Old! He said they are estimated to be around 1400 years old, and judging by some of the grave markers I saw I would call that a safe estimate. Now certainly I did no carbon dating of stone samples from the markers, but many of the stones had been worn smooth from hundreds of years of elemental persistence.

Reamai took me to two of these places, and each had a power of its own. I could tell from the moment I stepped foot on that sacred ground I was in a place different from the earth I had just left. Perhaps it was the power of suggestion, but Pirsig’s Paradox certainly applies here. If it feels powerful, then it is powerful. Reamai told me who those buried within once were – and still are. I recognized none of the names, but certainly recognized their importance to the Gaelic people. In some aspects it was as if I were standing at the tomb of Sequoyah, a person whom I never personally met, but he is of great importance to the Cherokee people – and I think the world recognizes that. And in the same moment it was as if I were standing at the home of Wilma Mankiller, another great Cherokee whom I knew personally and was – is – very dear to my memory. I felt both of those emotions at once: awe for a great person whom I never personally knew, and admiration for a great person I knew well. Odd to have those feelings in a place so far from where I call home, but that is one thing I come away from Ireland with – the Gaels and the Cherokees have much in common.