Coming into Ireland, the clouds over the Atlantic cleared slightly and revealed that we were making Irish landfall just north of Mount Brandon, Ireland's second highest mountain, and only five or six miles north of where Lindbergh saw land in 1927. I knew three men here who, as young boys, saw him fly over— sadly all three now gone. I am currently in a tiny village at the right edge of this photograph, under clouds, but later bathed in glorious sunshine. True to Ireland, we are now being lashed by a fierce storm and have been all day.
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