The Stolen Child – A bike and surf adventure at the Wild Atlantic Way

“It’s not just the land of potatoes, rain, and Guinness, you know. One of Ireland’s best-kept secrets has been out of the bag for some time now: this country has world-class surf and bike along the Irish Coastline of the Wild Atlantic Way.

In fall/winter 2016 a group of VAUDE-athletes went to Irland in order to Surf, SUP-Surf and Bike the waves and trails in the area of Sligo. They captured the rugged beauty of the landscape, specific surf culture and a selection of local characters. Camping on the beach during this time of the year is a special thing, too but in order to be at the lineup when it is pumping this is the way to
go. When the swell is down the group went inside the country to explore the flow trails around Mt.Mullaghmore.

On this Surf & Bike adventure an Irish outdoor guide introduced them to William Butler Yeats, widely considered one of the greatest poets of the English language. Yeats received the 1923 Nobel Prize for Literature. His work was greatly influenced by the heritage, politics and nature of Ireland. This is our visual interpretation of his poem “The stolen child”.

A film by Stil bezirk & Graupause
Filmed in the Area of Sligo (Irland) Along the Wild Atlantic Ray

Credits: Catherine Jordan, Warner Wilders, Samuel Brett
Athletes: Aline Bock, Lars Petersen, Max Kroneck
Music: Powerful Heart (Andrew Michael Britton, David Stephen Goldsmith)

 

The Stolen Child:

Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
There we’ve hid our faery vats,
Full of berries
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand.
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.

Away with us he’s going,
The solemn-eyed:
He’ll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest
For he comes, the human child
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand
From a world more full of weeping than he can understand.