The Silence of Doolough Valley
Updated: 3 days ago
Of all the locations I have visited and images I have taken, this is the one that I think about most. I've photographed Doolough 3 or 4 times now. The very first was a snapshot in 2003 as I was touring the northern half of Ireland, from Ballymena, to Enniskillen, to Mayo, Meath, and then back home. By chance I turned down this road, and what I saw took my breath away. I'd no real idea where it was, but the scene before me captivated me. It made me 'feel' something.
If you think about it, that is why most of us take photographs. Apart from wanting a record of an event, mostly its because something about what we are seeing has grabbed our attention.
The first photo I took was a quick snap, but I often looked at it and something told me, 'You need to find that place again...'
Returning to Mayo in 2014 (eleven years later!) with my wife Rosemary, I just had a vague 'hope' that we could figure out where it was. We got an Air BnB in Louisburgh, right on the Wild Atlantic coastline. In 2014, Storm Darwin visited Ireland, doing a record amount of damage. When we found out it was due to hit the western coast of Ireland, we tried to cancel but it was too late. Arriving, it was so stormy, that I parked the car as close to the house as I could, hoping it would still be there in the morning.
Thankfully it was and the next day, we just decided to 'wing it' and head down the road directly in front of the house. About 15 mins later, we rounded a bend and found ourselves here…. the Doolough Valley. The next few days were spent visiting and revisiting this spot. Rosemary and our little dog Bonnie were just content to sit and relax or walk around the area while I got out my camera gear and set about trying to capture what I was feeling in this stunning valley.
Like many places in Ireland, it has a history steeped with sadness and loss. During the Potato Famine, hundreds of people make an arduous trek to beg for help from landlords who were visiting nearby Delphi Lodge. They were turned away, and in the night that followed, hundreds froze to death on the slopes of Doolough Valley as they tried to find shelter. There is a monument at the roadside erected to commemorate all those who have died due to starvation.
How is it that we can visit a place, and even before we know anything about it, we can be so moved by the spirit of a place? Here in 2026, the place still haunts me. Not only because of its sadness but the sheer beauty and majesty of the landscape.
Can I share something else with you? First and foremost, I take these photographs because they speak to me. Not to sell or to share, but for my own soul. They don't just resonate with me at the time I take them, but every time I revisit them. Sometimes there are memories, or smells, or a singular moment that accompany them.
I have made this image my background on my PC. And often, even when I am in the middle of something, I will just stop, minimise whatever I'm doing and just allow myself to sit and immerse myself in the scene and let all those feelings, memories and emotions flood in. I love this place. I have heard God's voice in this place.
Is there a place that does that for you? It might even just be a park bench that you used to share with a loved one. Or a place where you used to walk your favourite pet. Or the place you proposed to your wife (or were proposed to). I don't believe this phrase originated with John Mark Comer, but he has famously said "The things that we do, do something to us."
In the context of spiritual formation, he means that the things that we do habitually, shape us. Whether good or bad. And I think that this is equally true when talking about our mindful approach to photography.
Mindfully approaching our photography either in taking or revisiting our photographs can shape us. When I took this photograph, I set up my tripod and just sat and drank in the silence. It was deep. I’ve likened this process before to meditation and there certainly is an element, once we have our camera set, of simply waiting. I would recommend that you try and carve out some time to find a quiet place with your camera, and just sit.
Honestly, while I try my best to create images that are technically strong, I sometimes just ignore technique and shoot what I am seeing or feeling at that time. More and more these days, what I get out of the experience… and how I feel as a result are every bit as important as the end result.
When I think back on the countless times that I have sat in silence and drank in the beauty of this scene, it reminds me that I should be grateful for the beauty I see, and the life that I am so privileged to live, while so many never had the chance. It makes me think about what I am doing with my life, if I am living with purpose or just muddling through another day.
Be open to 'feeling' what you are capturing. If you can, I believe your photographs will mean much more to you and you’ll find yourself revisiting them with a real sense of tranquility and appreciation.
Until next time,
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