When traveling, I find that so many of the best moments are those that are unplanned. Perhaps because the lack of expectation erases any chance of disappointment, leaving only room for discovery and adventure. One morning we were navigating hairpin turns along the coast of Northern Ireland, and just ahead, perched on the edge of a cliff, the ruins of Dunlace Castle came into view. “Let’s go there!” I exclaimed, and swerved across traffic into the pull-off for the castle. The northern coast was stormy that day, and as we slipped amongst the battered stone walls and towers, the wind and rain whipped through our hair and across our faces. The castle cliff seems to rise straight out of the sea, and we peered through openings in the stone walls, both those meant as windows and those created by time or misfortune. Looking out at the cliffs that stretched out on either side of the castle and listening to the crashing waves below, we wondered if anyone ever slept well living here. Were the howling wind and beating rain and wild crashing waves a nightly menace or a soothing lullaby?