Opposition brings concord. Out of discord comes the fairest harmony and everything is generated because of contention.
The fjord is almost a peninsula in reverse, the sea claiming its right to be habitable as it moves forward into the unknown. From the sea, the land perches on the horizon.
The road that runs alongside Killary Fjord, Leenaun Way, demonstrates to the traveller the concept of double, of eternal attraction and the overlap of opposites: you sense it as you walk on the border between the county of Mayo and Galway and as you go up to the north towards Louisburgh where you come across Delphi Lodge, a beautiful 1830s hunting lodge, now a Country House, completely covered in ivy, camouflaged amongst the greenery of the trees behind.
Delphi Lodge is beautiful but with a controversial history behind it. In the same silence in which you can hear the sound of each drop of water, you can still hear the sound of the steps of the people who in 1849, left Louisburgh and lost their lives trying to reach Delphi Lodge to meet officials bringing the relief they were waiting for during the period of the Great Famine.
At Lake Doolough, the black lake, halfway between Delphi and Louisburgh, the hope of those whose journey ended there still cries out silently and every year in remembrance there is a small pilgrimage to its dark waters called the Famine Walk.
From the lake and following the light that filters through the clouds, if you head West towards the coast, the sense of reflection explodes in the endless expanses of the White Strand and Silver Strand: not just beaches, but connection points where the water, with the help of the sun, bind the sky and the earth together.
At White Strand, the same ocean that flows into Killary Fjord slips up onto the land and then back, revealing an expanse of soft, glistening sand that invites you to approach like two dancers following the steps of a natural choreography.
Further north, the road to Killadoon, reveals the island of Inishturk and, further still, Clare Island, home of the pirate queen, Grace O'Malley and the first treasure of her raids, protected by an ocean almost jealous of her beauty.
To reach the island, set sail from Roonagh Quay and beside the corner of rocks that marks the beginning of Clew Bay is the blue sanctuary in which are gathered all the smaller islands of the archipelago.
The ocean, to the Southwest of the county, increasingly demands attention as it meets with the earth, attracting it, hiding something and only to give it back a moment later, like an enthusiastic twin begging and subsequently receiving the attention of his – equal yet different - double.