My Irish Shades of Green

Ryan Murock in Donegal Ireland

The emerald green of a transparent raindrop as it beads on a leaf. And the green of a morning after late nights at the pub. Until I drove through Ireland, I never knew they were each so unique. During my childhood, Ireland was always in the background: in my grandmother’s accent; in the fragile blue airmail letters that arrived in our mailbox; in the sound of my name.

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Kayaking the Saguenay

Kayaking Saguenay Lac-Saint-Jean

The Saguenay Fjord was at a nasty, rolling boil, a chaotic mess of black and white and silver foam lacking any discernible pattern. Looking over my shoulder, I could see three-and four-foot waves rolling down the fjord behind us at a 45-degree angle, but our kayaks were getting hit by waves reflecting off the rock wall less than 200 metres to our right.

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Chillin' on the Chilean Slopes

Skiing Chile
At one of the many ski shows I (now religiously) attend, I was told that the real ski nuts Ski Chile in the middle of the summer, where some of the steepest, deepest and fastest peaks beckon. The sheer altitude of Chile’s ski resorts, along with the speed records set at them, is enough to make even this girl think twice. But there is something else at play here. My husband, Chris, a level-two ski instructor and downhill fanatic, has been challenging me to kick it up a notch.
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