Ireland 2019

[Drunk Monk]

The rest of my trek around the circle was much more gingerly. I hate falling and I seem to do it a lot. Mud is my nemesis.

thot u liked it dirty.....

learn any good irish swear curses?  i get a lot of mileage out of feckin, which i picked up in the Badlands.

[Greg]

Day Four - Beara Peninsula 'Quest for Stone Circles'

Day 4 - Beara Peninsula All Day

Lynch’s on the pier is not great. Although our room is big, it’s dark because of lack of lighting. Plus, we are right across the way from the very industrial looking petrol station. It pales in comparison to Gabriel Guesthouse.

That being said, our host Darren is incredibly pleasant and serves a great breakfast. The main concern for Lynch’s on the Pier is the restaurant on the main floor. That’s where we had breakfast before the restaurant opened. We could have anything we wanted but we stuck to the small Irish which is eggs, bacon, sausage and toast. Irish Sausage will make you a meat convert.

Our first stop for the day was the Derreenatagart Stone Circle about two minutes outside of Castletownbere. We got there just as the sun started to peak over the mountains. A young Irish man stumbled out of the field asking us for an iPhone charger.

As is usual in most of the Stone Circles we’ve seen, this one had flowers and tokens adorning the rocks. We took a lot of pictures.

From there, we went to see the Dursey Island Cable Car. Dursey is a small island off the end of the Beara Peninsula. The straight between the mainland and the island was so rough it was better to have a cable car to ferry things across than use boats. There was a picture in the Lynch’s restaurant showing a cow coming out of the not very big cable car.

Have I mentioned the sun was shining all day? It was. It made for great pictures all around the area. Such a difference from the day before.

Then it was on to Alihies to see the Children of Lir stone. Lir’s kids were turned into swans for 900 years because of a problem with the new step-mom. These stones are supposed to be where the kids were eventually buried after returning to land and dying. It’s a stone. Why it’s the Lir stone, I don’t know. Kids come and put coins on it to celebrate Lir’s kids. It’s all very strange.

Alihies is best known for having the largest copper mind in the world at the time. That time being the 1820s to 1890s. One beach near the town was made from the 1000000 waste tons of quartz leftover from the extraction process. We visited the museum. We ate lunch at ONeills.

Google was still being helpful and showed us exactly to our next spot, the Hag of Beara. The hag stole a priest’s bible and was turned into a stone for her trouble. It’s another stone. Almost as exciting as the Lir’s children stone. I was hoping for some impressive edifice after reading about it. But no. It comes up to about waste high.

We made another stop at Kilcatherine cemetery. This cemetery was supposed to be made or have monks buried from the Skellig Islands of Stars Wars fame. Although they were famous well before Star Wars filmed there.

We took the tiny roads around the peninsula in search of a lookout that never materialized.

Since this was Stone Circle day on our journey, our next stop was the Ardgroom Stone Circle. Ardgroom, may it’s name live in infamy.

The Ardgroom circle lies in a farmers field about 200 yards from the parking spot. You have to climb over two fences to get there using two of these special ladders supplied by the park service or whatever it’s equivalent is here in Ireland. Climbing the ladders was not a problem.
The problem was the marsh created by the water from the pond above the fields. The first field was wet. But if you were careful, you could walk on some tall grasses to avoid getting your feet soaking wet. The middle field was pretty firm. The final field was a pain in the ass. No matter where you stepped you sank. I could hear the queen scream behind me as she sank up to her ankles in the mud. I tired trails  high and low to avoid the water. My shoes were still full of water by the time I got to the stone circle.

At least the Ardgroom Stone Circle was magnificent….. Yeah, not so much. It was overgrown. The stones were that big and many were missing. Yes, I’m spoiled at seeing stone circles. We took pictures. We tried to avoid going back to the car. But it had to be done.

But I was thinking that we had seen the worst of it. I felt I could chart a pretty good path back to the ladder over the fence. Yeah, not so much.

I was doing a pretty good job until I got to the last stream before the ladder over the fence. I’d found some firm high spots. I saw a bit of hard sand next to the river I could step on to make my way across. 

Yeah, not so much.

As soon as I placed my left foot on the sand, I sank up to my knee in the mud. I lost my balance and put my right leg down in the river. Importantly, I did not lose my camera in the mud or water. I was able to find a small dry patch to set it down while I figured out to extract my leg from the mud without losing my shoe.

My shoe desperately wanted to stay in the mud. But I gingerly pulled my leg up and kept the shoe.

The Queen was more successful in her walk through the marsh. She had seen my mishap, keeping the laughter to a minimum. She was also kind enough to only take a few photos.

I made it up and back over the ladder to the drier field. The third field, the original horror, was now a piece of cake. When you are that soaking wet from the waist down, a few little streams barely register.

At this point lesser men would have called it a day and gone back to Lynch’s on the pier, had a nice hot shower, and put on some clean clothes. But I am not a lesser man. Yes, the Queen looked aghast when I mentioned there were only two more monuments to visit and they weren’t that far away. I think there was lot of teeth gritting and internal swearing when she acquiesced to continue. Sure, it was only a few miles up the road. Plus, I could use the heated seat to dry off my shorts.

Google announced we had arrived when there was still no sign of the place. I think Google had had enough for the day as well. Since there were no turnouts on the road, we continued. Sure enough a couple hundreds yards passed where we should have found it, the sign for the Cashelkeelty Stone Circle appeared on our right.

At breakfast, Darren had said this was his favorite hike, because you got to go through the forest alongside a river before getting to the main trail up to the circle. I should have listened more closely when he said up the trail. Turns out that Cashelkeelty was on top of a hill.

The Queen went on ahead while I went back to get my phone from the car. I found the phone in my pocket after I got back to the car. Maybe I was getting a bit tired? Perish the thought. I am not a lesser man.

By the time I caught up to the queen, she was sitting on her ass by the side of a small brook we had to ford. Her attempt to cross proved less than successful. I kept my schadenfreude laughter to a minimum. There was some branches overhead a group of stones that made the river crossing a bit easier than where the Queen attempted to jump across.

Yes, the hike would have been tremendous through the forest. The river fell over many cascades besides. But it was late in the day. We were both wet. And the forest was quite dark this late in the day. We pressed onward.

After the forest, there was a long slog up a gravel road that had water running though it on occasion. We had to go over three fences by climbing the now hated ladders. I thought I saw our eventual destination off the trail and headed towards them. It turned out to be just a grouping of random stones that might have been something but it wasn’t defined enough. 

I had to jump across a small brook brook to get back to our gravel path. The Queen who was a few minutes behind followed into the same field but couldn’t find a way back out and had to backtrack for a long way.

All the time we hiked, the sun crept closer to going behind a hill. It also played peekaboo with the cloud. I moved fast because I feared the sunlight would be gone by the time we reached Cashelkeelty.

Arrived, we eventually did. And let me tell you the excitement at seeing this ancient structure was not to be found.  It was less than overwhelming. There were two groups of a couple of stones. One of the stones was kind of big. At one grouping, you could see Kenmare Bay in the background. The other circle with the big stone was up against a fence so you get to see a fence in all the pictures.

A little voice in the back of my head almost said it wasn’t worth it, but I quashed that quickly. We had to hang out around the stones, waiting for the sun to reappear. Usually that’s a glorious moment when the sun comes and brightens the world around us. This time it meant we could finally get our shots and get the hell out of there.

The Queen wanted me to stay with her on the hike back down fearing a repeat of walking off into fields unknown. I was good with that. The forest was just as dark on the way down. We crossed the stream without incident.

The hotel, it’s clean clothes, and it’s shower looked pretty good at this point. I opted to head there rather than go to the final stone circle. This made the Queen happy.

We dragged a lot of dirt and mud through our hotel room. Our filthy shoes and jeans were consigned to a blast bag. The Queen asked when I thought they might dry out. I said “When we leave Ireland”

For dinner, we went back to Murphy’s. The food is good there and it’s probably the only restaurant in town.

A full day.

[Drunk Monk]

good food + cold & wet + storied rocks = ireland

looks and sounds like y'all are having a grand time.  still jealous.

[Greg]

No complaints.

[Greg]

Castletown Bere to Trallee

Day Five

We had things to do and places to go. And we set the clocks back so we got an extra hour of sleep. If what you call my tossing and turning and getting up at all hours sleep.

Darren served us our last Castletown-Brere breakfast. I flew my drone over the harbor because it was finally time to fly. The sun rose in almost cloud free sky.

I told the Queen to look for spots to stop because I had not micro-managed our itinerary for the day. I just wanted to make sure we hit the spots I wanted to see.

It was an especially gorgeous Irish day. The sun shone. The sky was dotted with puffy white clouds. You couldn’t ask for better.

We spotted a sign pointing off to the left that said Priest Leap. It was a historical marker that you see all over the countryside. But what did it mean? What is Priest Leap. I’d never heard of it. The Queen said let’s go see this Priest Leap. I made a u-turn and headed back to the turn to Priest Leap.

Google Maps started to lose it’s mind trying to reroute us back to our course to Gougane Barra which was to be our first stop of the day. It kept informing me that if I turned now I would be back on course and only lose ten minutes on our journey. Screw that. We were going to see this Priest Leap thing.

The roads got progressively narrower and steeper. Soon, we had left the small houses behind us and were driving up this steep mountain road. There was a tremendous cliff down to my left into a valley an a steep hillside to my right. It was a grass in the middle of the road sort of road. There was nothing but us climbing up this steep road towards the mountain top. There was no sign that a Priest Leap was coming.

I started to worry that another might be coming down the road. There was no place to pull over if another car did approach. Unless I wanted to roll down the hill. Google continued to update the route to Gougane Barra. It suggested if I just went straight to the next road, it would only add about an hour to the trip.

After about fifteen more minutes of driving up this beautiful pass I had enough. I was turning around at the next turnout, Priest Leap or not.

I pulled in. And miracle of miracle, I had cell phone reception. I looked up Priest Leap. Turns out it’s not a historic spot, but a mountain pass. Basically the highest pass in Ireland. No Priests Leaping at all. Dammit. 

We got out and took some pictures. A farmer on a ATV drove by, his dogging running like a maniac beside him. I had a lot of questions about how far the farmer had made that dog run down the mountain.

Google was happy we were heading back down the mountain. We eventually got back to a road that would get us to Gougane Barra in a reasonable amount of time.

Gougane Barra is where the Lee River starts which is the river that finally meets the ocean in Cork. It’s also where St. Finbar started out in the 6th century. The same St. Finbar of the Cathedral with the cannonball in it it Cork. We had done the full circle.

Basically, it’s a small lake surrounded by steep mountains. There is a small peninsula on in the lake with a modern church and the remains of St. Finbars church. It’s as if someone said lets design a perfect setting for picture taking.

For the first time this trip, I got the drone out. The lake was perfectly still reflecting everything around us like a mirror. Our timing couldn’t have been better. After a quick walk to the church, wind started to whip up small waves around the lake. Better to be lucky than good.

We stopped in Sneem for lunch. This put us back on the Ring of Kerry. We went to Sneem because it was one of our stops when we bicycled the Ring of Kerry back in 2001. The Queen was so exhausted by the bike ride back then, she mainly stayed in the room of our B&B and slept. It’s also the home of Quills which is the best place to buy Sweaters and Grandfather shirts in Ireland.

Nostalgia filled us as we made our way up to Moll’s Gap which is the mountain pass over into Killarney. Also at Moll’s Gap is the Avoca weavers shop. All I can say is I didn’t recognize anything except maybe one of the signs. Although I did recognize the Avoca shop. It was too packed for me to go upstairs to see where we had lunch in those long ago days.

We pulled over on the way down to Killarney to take some pictures of the lakes. The drone made it’s second appearance despite the wind. Traffic got worse the closer we got to Killarney. That weekend was a bank holiday so most of the country had Monday off. Plus the kids are off for their midterm break all of this week. Plenty of tourists joined us driving the roads of Kerry.

Google really wanted us to go to the center of Killarney. Killarny had plenty of traffic to impede. But after multiple wrong turns to avoid traffic and appease my Google overlord, I hit the button to get us onto our next stop. Surprisingly it headed away from all the traffic. Stupid Google.

We stopped in Kilorglin so I could reminisce about my Dad’s Kilorglin story. Kilorglin holds a festival every year that is one of the longest running official fairs in Ireland if not in Europe. It’s part horse trading fair, part stupid stuff fair. They crown a goat king for three days. Everyone drinks and eats way too much. My parents, sister and I had attended back in the day. As we entered the town, nothing looked familiar.

One of the main selling points of the fair was that the bars were able to stay open for three straight days. Back in the 1980s this was a pretty big thing because religious laws made the bars all close at 11. 

Well my father is in one of the bars and this old timer sits down next to him. And in this thick accent says “Is it true the bars will be open for three straight days?”
My father says “Yes, I believe so”
The old timer “Jayzus, I don’t think I can sit here that long”

This trip can be a bit tricky because my father keeps popping out of the landscape. There are a lot of places we went together and there are a lot of memories embedded in the landscape waiting like landmines to go off. And worst of all, he would be the first one to quiz me about all the stops we’d be making.

We took pictures of the King Puck statue by the side of the river and headed off.

I found a place outside of Trallee called the Barrow Lodge to stay in. The only reason I picked it was because it sat right on the bay. It looked like a really pretty spot to stay in. 

Well, if you ever get to edge of nowhere in Ireland, you really need to stay in the Barrow Lodge in Barrow. It’s a little tricky to get there but it’s worth it. I have never stayed in a bigger room in an Irish B&B in Ireland, much less a hotel. And I’ve never had a bigger bathroom adjacent to my biggest room. Cloddagh, our host couldn’t have been friendlier. She looked puzzled by my statement that the room was really big. Aren’t all bedrooms this big? The room had four wingback chairs in it and the bed could have slept three comfortably. The window did this little trick were it converted to a small balcony. Once open you could stand there and look out over the bay. My immediate regret was we weren’t stying their longer.

The big downside was that we were near nothing. We had to get back in the car and drive to the nearest restaurant for dinner which was about five miles away. There was nothing I wanted to do less than get in the car and do more driving.

The big upside was we drove to the Oyster Tavern for dinner. The Oyster Tavern was a fabulous   old school Irish restaurant. They served meat and fish and didn’t feel the need to be trendy about it. The food was great. Every waiter in the place who walked by the table asked if they could get us anything.

Oddly, in the bar they were all watching American Football. Unironically, I might add.

One of the strange things about the bed was there was about five comforters on the bed. The room was hot. I couldn’t understand why you would need so many bed covers. It was so hot in the room I had to turn the radiant heaters down to a comfortable level.

Well, there’s a reason they had so many covers. A reason I knew but had forgotten. They turn the heat off at night to save money. It was about the third or fourth time after I tried to turn the heat up on the radiator in the middle of the night that I remembered this. Yeah, it got really cold in the room.

Greg is a bright boy

[Greg]

I'm struggling to catch up. We are currently in the Aran Islands but here is the tale from three days (seems like a lifetime) ago

Day 6 Trallee to Limerick.

Hey, let’s drive like maniacs to get to places to meet with people at specific times.

Our first stop was the ferry at Tarbert to cross the Shannon to the Clare side of the river. Nothing puts pressure on you like making sure you get to the boat on time or risk waiting an additional hour for the next crossing.

We were sad to leave Barrow Lodge but the tide waits for no man. The one chink in the Barrow Lodge armor was their breakfast was not quite the best. Yes, I am quite spoiled after some of the breakfasts I’ve had on this trip.

We made it to the ferry without incident. The ferry crossing went smoothly and took just twenty minutes despite the fact the tide was racing out.

We headed up to Kilkee because my father always spoke highly of it. It’s a seaside resort town that a lot of people from Limerick visit on holiday. When Zachary, my father and I had visited back in 2009, I didn’t see why it appealed to him so much. I came through to see if maybe I had missed something. 

I hadn’t. We pulled into the parking lot next to the wide cove where they used to race horse on the strand. I looked around and still couldn’t see the appeal. It was nice, but we probably could have missed it.

Our destination for the morning was to have lunch in Lahinch with our friends the Herlihy’s. John Herlihy went to school with me and his father worked for my father. John is now a big wig for LinkedIn traveling the world more than he is at home.

John’s brother Conner was in town so he came by with his wife and kids. John’s son Gavin was in residence while his older brother Michael is in the US attending USC.

We had a good time catching up. Sinead did my laundry so my sweatshirts no longer smelled like sweat. We talked about the disaster we had passed on the road into Lahinch. It’s a mess called the Trump Resort. Feh.

The visit was all too short. We would have liked to stay longer but we had a dinner date with more friends in Nenagh on the other side of Limerick. We had to leave to get to our hotel to check in so we could leave immediately for the thirty mile drive out to Nenagh.

Since we were so pressed for time there was no way we should make a slight detour to Quin Abby and takes pictures of the ruined monastery at sunset. Yeah, we shouldn’t have, but we did. Quin was gorgeous and magical as ever. This was the only time we were going to be by here on the trip for even the shortest time, so we had to make the stop. It was worth it. Plus, I can drive really fast.

We were in Limerick for a minute to check into the Strand Hotel and drop our bags. We also marveled at what looked liked a fungus infected carpet.

The trip to Nenagh went really fast. Something about a lead foot. Google continues it’s quest to make sure we see every back road and narrow lane. The journey to Nenagh was no exception. But it did take us right to the front door. Which is quite different from the first time I took the Queen there. I had hand written directions with a lot of confusing talk about where to turn at the roundabouts. We passed a bonfire burning in a farmer’s field multiple times before lucking into the right spot.
It was an evening of chatting with friends over food. I don’t think we solved the world’s problems but we gave it a shot. Their daughter is in Poland studying dentistry, while their son is trying to drink the local establishments dry. He just turned 18 and his parents seem remarkably tolerant about his alcohol consumption.

The Queen was over served wine during the course of the evening and became very chatty. My eyes started to close all too soon. It was a long day and it was time to get back to the hotel and fight the infection in the carpet.

[Drunk Monk]

mmmmm

fresh teelings

many thanks!

[Dr. Ivor Yeti]

That Connemara is going into rotation as soon as I’m finished with my Talisker. Many, many thanks!

[Greg]

So, better than the Yeti coffee?

[Greg]

Day Seven - All day Limerick

Since I am the lord of the travel plans, I set the supreme schedule. In my largesse, I gave the Queen a day off from the daily forced march to historic sights. Let’s face it, I over program. I can no longer just sit in a foreign place. I must move. I must photograph. I’m the Great White Shark of travel.

The Queen and I did share breakfast at the Strand Breakfast Buffet. When you go to Limerick, this is a must-do thing. They have such a variety. How many buffets have you been to that serve fresh honeycomb? Of course, I only had scrambled eggs, sausage and toast, but that’s not the point. I did contemplate staying in a different hotel, but after eating breakfast, I’m glad I came to my senses and stayed at the right hotel. Plus, I got to see their disaster carpets, especially mold outbreak carpet on the fourth floor.

My plan was to walk around Limerick until I couldn’t walk anymore. I have a bunch of spots I go to that I have shot many times before. I like to see how the city has changed over the years. I do keep photographing King John’s Castle, but that remains pretty much the same year after year.

I’m bad at the street names for my Irish home town, mostly because they change from block to block and I can’t keep them all straight. I crossed Sarsfield Bridge, which affords many chances to photograph King John’s, and entered the city center proper. 

I photographed Burgerland which is where I did my first real job. It’s been closed for aeons and has been a sports store for at least two decades. I walked by Cahill’s Tea Shop which is the oldest retailer in Limerick. I didn’t know it existed until about a month ago. I wandered by the Milk Market and the churches in John’s square.

Another thing I didn’t know existed where walls of the medieval city. I follow a woman on the interwebs named Sharon Slater who is an Irish Historian and pointed out the walls in several of her blogs. I decided I needed to see them. The ones I saw used to encircle Irish Town. They are pretty good size but sadly neglected sitting between two housing projects. At one point, I was able to climb atop them. I found the remnants of a fire pit in the center of the wall. It was also disheartening to see the boarded up housing opposite the wall.

From there I made my way to the path that follows the Abby River. Now, the Abby River isn’t an actual river. It’s a canal that cuts through a bend in the Shannon River. The canal makes it possible to sail up the Shannon. Because in the middle of the bend is the Ardnacrusha dam and power plant. Yes, I am voting Ardnacrusha as the best name for a power plant.

What’s important to me about the Abby river path is it’s the path my father used to take on his walk from our house in Castletroy down to Limerick. He wouldn’t back from Limerick to the house. No, sir. He would make his son drive into town to pick him up.

I met the path where I used to park the car to wait for my father at the end of his evening stroll.

The path runs arrow straight along the canal. They have finally pulled out the sunken boat where the Abby River meets the Park Canal so I have one picture that will finally look different.

I met plenty of people walking their dogs. All I could think was the Queen was going to be so jealous. At one point, I came across three horses let to run wild. I believe they belonged to the Travelers or Tinkers. Eventually, they will come by to collect them. You use to see Tinker ponies all through the streets of Limerick.

I petted them for a while and got bit for my troubles. When I left them, one of the ponies, the one that bit me, followed me thinking I had not completed my scratching of his head. Again my thoughts were about the Queen’s jealousy that I was out petting horses. Ha!

When I set out I was only going to go as far as the end of the canal and turn back to town. When I got to the end of the canal, I figured I might as well got to Athlunkard Bridge since it wasn’t that far.

Since I’m at Athlunkard Bridge, I might as well head up to Corbally Baths to see how they look in the bright morning sunlight. if you go to Corbally Baths, you of course have to walk to the Mill Road to get home. It’s all good. I’ve got plenty of time. I’m meeting dogs. The sunlight shines beautifully through the trees that arch over the path. I’m taking plenty of pictures. I’m collecting stories of animals to make the Queen jealous. It’s like the perfect day. I am light on my feet without a care in the middle as I spot a new ruin across the river at the Mill Road Parking Lot.

Have we talked about the stupidity of the Queen’s husband, that certain strain of madness in his psyche that clamors for trouble and untenable situations? If you aren’t aware of this mental health issue, it will be my pleasure to give you as fine an example as they come of the staggering idiocy of the man-child.

The road to take back from the Mill Road Parking lot is naturally the Mill Road. It’s kind of noisy and congested after the idyll along the footpath next to the river, but it cuts straight back into town, ending at King John’s Island. It’s the road to take for the smart set.

The last time I walked this path, I saw some lads take a different route. They headed off a short lane that I thought came to a dead end. But no. If you go past the bushes, you find a path that leads to a bridge over the mill channel. It’s paved for a little bit more but then just becomes a foot path along a raised berm between sort of a marsh to the left and the river Shannon to the right. It’s like stepping into an Irish Fairy tale as you walk this hidden road through the tall bushes, the sounds of the city dropping away behind you. The Queen would burn with envy when I told her of this magical place.

I continued to walk and the condition of the trail started to deteriorate. I had to navigate more low spots filled with water. I flashed backed to the bog at the Ardgroom Stone Circle. But these areas were far more manageable. Thorny branches frequently snagged my socks. I began to think the Queen would not be enjoying this stretch of my secret magical trail.

Up ahead I heard the train go by. One of the gotchas of this trail was that you had to climb a bit of a hill and cross the railroad tracks. No signs. No special crossings. Just up and over. Then you had to find the trail on the other side. Not too difficult, but it was something to be aware of. Since I had heard the train pass, I wouldn’t have to contend with dodging when I got to the tracks. Life was good, even I was dodging mud and pulling brambles out of my socks.

Except when I got to the railroad tracks, I found to my surprise that someone had erected an eight foot tall fence across the path. There was a gate in the fence, but the lock had been welded shut. Seriously? A fence? And it stretched a long way in both directions. They seriously didn’t want people crossing over the railroad tracks.

Or did they? See, just to left of the trail there was a rather large opening under the fence where people obviously had climbed through. It was bit muddy but it could probably be done by some Gen-Xer or Millenial.

See if you can guess the dumb part. Or the initial dumb part. The beauty of the Queen’s Husband is not that he does something dumb, it’s that he compounds the dumbness with more dumb. It’s like exponential stupidity.

It was a long walk back through the brambles and the mud to the long road that would take me back to town. Of course I had to see if I could fit under the fence. I only had to put my knees in the mud for a little bit to make the crossing.

I knelt down. I put my camera backpack through first. And then I climbed under the fence. I was up the bank to the tracks before you know it.

Now, I couldn’t see what was on the other side of the tracks because the bank was too tall in front of me. But in my unassailable logic, I figured since there was a hole in the fence on this side, the hooligans before me must have made a hole on the other side. It would be foolish not to. Right?

As I stood on the tracks and looked far to the left and far to the right, I couldn't see any thing but eight foot tall green metal fence. To be fair, the fence did stop at the bridge which crossed over the river Shannon.

So, I turned around, crawled back under the fence and made the long trek back to the Mill Road to hike back sensibly into the city.

Yeah, no. There had to be opening somewhere up ahead where I could get back onto the trail. I could also see the road up ahead. The tunnel for the train went right under it. I was positive the best course was to walk along the tracks until I go to the road. Either I would find an opening to get through the fence or there would be an opening at the road. QED.

The Irish are pretty serious about people not getting on the railroad tracks. Probably because it’s a dangerous and stupid thing to do. There was fencing the entire good strong fencing. I thought I saw place where the fencing had been pushed back to make an opening but it had been welded back together.

At this point the Queen was no longer jealous of magical trail adventure. I’m sure she would be looking for a ditch to dump my body after she shot me. But since the fence on either side of the tracks was so close, there wasn’t a lot of room for a ditch for a body.

Yeah, I started to worry. The closer I got to the road, the more secure the fencing became. I kept waiting to hear the sound of a train whistle behind me or see the light of the train in front of me. There wasn’t a lot of space on either side of the tracks to avoid the train.

When I was within about 100 yards from the road, the eight foot tall metal fence gave way to a  four foot tall barbed wired topped fence protecting a farmer’s field. The majority of the fence was metal wire in a 6 x 6 grid. But the top two feet was strung with for strands of extraordinarily new and taught barbed wire. It was much to high to leap over, especially with my gazelle like grace. But I needed to do something to get away from the tracks.

First I put the camera bag over the fence in a spot I knew I could retrieve in case I couldn’t get through the fence. First rule: Always protect the camera.

I pulled the lower two strands of barbed wire as far apart as I could and then slid my leg between the wire. One of the advantages of wearing shorts is no material covering my legs to catch on the barbs. Always a plus.

Someone should have been there to take a picture of me mid-passage, with a strand of wire pressed firmly pressed into my crotch. My back up against the wire above snagged on more barbs. That should have been the time for the field owner to pop out and ask what the fuck I was doing. But my passage through the wire went unnoticed I think. I did get some rips in my jacket for my trouble. I believe some blood was shed. Now, all I had to do was get through the field.

I wanted to just open the gate and go but it was locked with some hundred year old chain. The gate was at a tremendous lean towards me so I had to get some momentum to get my fat self over it. I spotted the dog next to the house. But the dog had more interest in looking in the house window than whatever I was doing. I was very glad not to see anybody staring out the window at me.

A few steps later, I was on the mill road heading back to town. The sweat from adventure started to cool on my brow.

I walked down the Mill Road thinking myself a lucky, lucky man. Also very lucky that I had left the Queen in the hotel.

The rest of the day was far calmer. It was mostly hitting sights that were important to me. I walked over to King John’s castle. I was disappointed to see they had white washed over my favorite mural called eye-scream. It was a pretty trippy mural that was completely out of place next to the castle. Someone had tagged it a couple months back and rather than fix the mural, they decided to replace it.

I walked along Clancy’s Strand back to the Strand Hotel. I took more pictures of the Treaty Stone and the Castle. I should have about a million of each by now.

I bumped into the Queen as she left the hotel. She looked rested. At this point, I didn’t recount the tales of her husband’s stupidity. I did finally contact a friend of my father’s I wanted to meet with in town, Brendan Bradshaw. I used the time honored method of contacting his daughter on Facebook and getting her to contact him and telling him to contact me. It worked. We had lunch. We swapped stories. It was good. Disappointed thought that the River Restaurant in the STrand no longer carries pizza. When I mentioned it to the servers, they gave me the puzzled look and asked “We served pizza?” 

Since I had had a long day, I opted to spend the rest of the evening in the hotel room resting.

Ha! No. The sun was out. There was more photographs to take. I got in the car and went to my old High School. Fortunately the kids were on break for the week so I didn’t frighten anybody as I prowled the grounds. Then I went up to the Lynch house on Kilbane and took some pictures there too. I wonder if the owners every see me and wonder why I keep showing up every couple of years to take photos. Probably a question for a therapist as well.

I dumped the car back at the hotel and then ventured back to the streets for more wandering. I went by the oldest still running shop in Limerick, Cahills. They sell tea and tobacco. I photographed the train station and Perry Square. I popped into the Frank McCourt museum since this was the second to last day it would be open. I had brought my mother here back in 2014. McCourt wrote the seminal Limerick novel Angelas Ashes. It was sad to see, especially since people come to Limerick because of Angelas Ashes. The proprietor, Oona, gave a piece of brick from the museum as a keepsake.

I spent the last bit of my walk along the Shannon photographing the seagulls and the swans. It was a perfect Limerick day except for the rampant stupidity.

[Greg]

Day 8 - Inis Mór

We got up early, drove to Doolin, boarded our Doolin Ferry and sailed to Inis Mór, one of the Aran Islands.

Except for the part where Doolin Ferries sent me an email asking me I could sail Tuesday of Wednesday. And if I did sail on Tuesday could I come home the same day rather than spending the night? I mean months in advance tour plans are flexible like that, right?

My response to the good people at Doolin Ferries was less courteous. This is actually the second time they have cancelled a trip on me. The reason they cited for the cancellation was the weather and that they were wrapping up their sailing season on Tuesday. They won’t start sailing from Doolin until the spring.

Fortunately, oh so Fortunately, there is also a ferry that sails from Rosaveel, north of Galway. I know this because that’s where we sailed from the last time Doolin Ferries cancelled on me. Doolin is about 45 minutes closer to Limerick and you don’t have to go through Galway to get there.

I had a reservation for the night, so I made the plans to drive to Rosaveel to catch their ferry. Plus, Cindi and I both wanted to get back there. We just hoped the weather would be a bit weather.

According to the weather reports, though, the good weather ended in Limerick. C’est la vie. Especially in Ireland.

The drive to Rossaveal went smoothly. Google decided it would be quicker to cut directly though Galway rather than go around. Shocker of shockers, we right passed the Lighthouse B&B where we stayed in 2016 and I put a nice dent in the side of that rental car trying to get out of the micro parking lot.

You can’t bring your car to Inis Mór so we left it at the parking lot at the dock. We minimized our luggage from four bags to one, not counting camera bags. Our ferry sailed through a good chop to get us there. One kid standing on the top deck was surprised when a wave crested over the ship and completely doused him. I was up there for a bit to get a few snaps, but noting the wind and rain, quickly retreated down the stairs and went inside.

When you get off the boat in Kilronan, Inis Mór’s main port, you are met by dozens of men driving minivans, all vying to take you on a tour around the island. We bypassed them and went  straight to our B&B, the Seacrest.

In yet another nod to tradition, this is the same B&B my father and I stayed at back in 1993.  I think the current owners took possession in 2003. Geraldine, our host was fabulous.

We had taken the tour the last time and didn’t need the tour this time. But I quickly learned the only way to get the five miles from our place to Dun Angus, one of the stone age forts on the Inis Mór was to hire the guide. If it wasn’t pissing rain, I would have chanced it.

We hired Tomas to take us out to Dun Angus and to the Worm Hole, in Irish Poll na bPéist. Facebook was kind enough to tell us that eight years ago we were in exactly the same spot. Looking at the picture, you could see that we were having the same drizzly grey weather as well.

For lunch, we stopped in the saw award winning cafe that marks the start of the trail up to Dun Angus. Still stuck in the same time loop, I had the same Guiness Beef Stew. IN my defense, I’d been dreaming of this stew since we decided to go back to Inis Mór. It’s pretty good.

Stone age forts don’t change in a decade so we saw what we saw the last time in pretty much the same conditions. We hiked up the slippery trail. The wind howled around us like we were in a wind tunnel as we entered the fort. The did finally give the site guard a shed, though. It was hard to hang out and just experience the place with conditions as miserable as they were.

One poor woman who seemed to hate the fort especially because of the slick walking conditions struggled to make it out of the fort and down the path. The Queen and I took turns holding her hand over the really tricky bits.

Tomas greeted us back at the gift shop and got ready to drive us to the Worm Hole. I thought we were supposed to walk there but he told us he could drive us a little bit closer, which he did.

Tomas then got out of the van and walked us to the trail that led down the cliffs to the Poll na bPéist. As he walked us down, all I kept hearing was “Stick to the roads. Beware the roads”

The idea was to follow these red marks on the rocks because the trail was pretty invisible. It went over limestone rocks and around pools in the middle of nowhere. I quickly walk down the wrong well worn path before Tomas yelled at me to go the other way. We saw only one group on the way and they were coming back. 

I’d wanted to go to this place for quite some time. Seeing maniacs dive into it off the cliffs as part of a Red Bull sponsored diving contest only heightened my interest.

It’s a natural square cut hole in the rocks through which the ocean seeps in and out of. The level of water in what looks like an oversize swimming pool rises and falls with the tides.

The path there seemed to take forever. The miserable weather conditions didn’t help. The footing became more and more treacherous the closer we got. Basically, there were pools on the cliffs you had to navigate between on slippery paths of limestone. Although, the limestone is a bit stickier than granite.

Eventually, we made it there and it was a pretty fascinating thing to see, this massive rectangular hole filled with sea water. But wind and rain and exhaustion quickly drove us away. If it was sunnier, I’m sure we would have explored longer.

On the way back, the Queen decided to get even closer to the pools. She slipped and put a foot in one. She also added another bruise to her collection. The way back was also fun because the marks to the wormhole were on the rocks facing towards the trail to the wormhole. You couldn’t see any marks on the way back. But we found our way. No werewolves.

Tomas took us back to the B&B. Before we passed out from exhaustion, we spent a lot of money at the Aran Islands Sweater Market. They had lots of nice things that cost lots of money. We picked up a gift for our house sitters.

Did I mention no Taxis? Well, we wanted to go to the most pub on the Island, Joe Watys, which I thought was across from our B&B and was the only place open to get food this late in the season. Well, wrong on both accounts, but I didn’t learn about the second until later.

As we were getting ready to walk up the road in the rain to the pub, our fabulous host, Geraldine, offered to drive us up. Thank God. We’d walked enough for one day.

The food at Waty’s was fine. We had to wait a bit for the food since they didn’t serve until 6. It was a cozy room and the Queen was grateful for the heat from the coal fire. Not as good as peat but better than nothing.

We ate. We walked back to the B&B. We slept in our really tiny bed.

[Greg]

Day 9- Inis Mór to Galway to Athlone

I booked a late ferry so we could spend some more time looking around the island. Well, the choices were either 8:30am or 5:00pm. I went for later.

I also wanted there to be good weather. I want so many things. At least when we set out for the Black Fort, it wasn’t raining.

The Black Fort or Dún Dúcathair was sort of within walking distance from the B&B. According to Geraldine it was only about 30 minutes walk. We figured to get there by sunrise and then back to the Seacrest for our breakfast.

It was a nice walk on the paved road. It became less nice on the gravel. It became worse when the gravel turned to rocks. The road ended at a sign that pointed in the general direction of the fort. We climbed a stone wall and made our way through the fields, fields copiously dotted with rocks and slabs.

Basically, you had to walk through the fields until you found the fort. Much like in 2011 when we visited, racing through the rain and wind, we came out of the fields to the cliff edge one peninsula short of the actual fort. This afforded us the chances to take some pictures of the deep blue ocean and the waves crashing into the cove.

Fortunately, it wasn’t pouring like it was in 2011. Even the sun popped out for a brief illumination of the surrounding fields. Since it was early, cold, and dark, the Queen and I were the only ones at the Black Fort. If it was a little bit warmer and sunnier, we probably would have spent a lot more time. Although, I did delay our departure somewhat because the sun kept threatening to break the cloud cover. I know this, though. The sun is a tease.

The walk back to the road was somewhat more problematical. When walking towards the fort, you knew you could just walk towards the ocean and then make a left or right turn to find it. The trail back to road led through a wilderness of walls and rocks and grass that all looked the same. We kind of stumbled around until I spotted the sign marker that led us in in the first place.

Geraldine, our host at the Seacrest, was kind enough to cook us breakfast when we got back to the B&B, despite the fact we were minutes away from when she told us breakfast service would be ending. 

After breakfast, the Queen opted not to go on another two hour hike to the ends of the island to see Teaglach Éinne or the Church of St. Enda. It might have something to do with it threatening to rain any second. So, I walked and she rested.

It was a long walk. If I was younger and more foolish, I would have tried to make it to the Blow holes as well. But while I was looking at the sunken church of St. Enda, the sprinkles started. I didn’t want to spend an hour walking back to the Seacrest in the rain. That’s my excuse. I’m sticking to it.

At one point during the walk, I thought I was going to have a repeat of the Queen’s and I’s experience on Inis Oer when a dog followed us for most of our journey. When I walked by Cockel Strand, a black dog found me and started to follow me. Fortunately, he was only with me for a mile or so before he found better things to do.

The Queen and I had lunch in the pub at the Bar. Why you would name a bar The Bar is above my pay grade.

Our ferry back to Rossaveal left at 5pm with the rain picking up.

If you remember back to almost yesterday of this journey, we were originally supposed to take our boat from Doolin which is south of Galway. Rossaveal is northwest of Galway. When I planned this part of the trip, I figured we were going to give Galway a miss. And since we were missing Galway, I wasn’t going to be able say hi to my Scottish storytelling friend, Rab Fulton. I met Rab back in 2009 when I was in Galway with my father and Zachary. I saw a flyer promoting Irish Folktales at the Cottage Bar in Salt Hill, a region of Galway. There were about 8 people in attendance in this tiny room in the pub. Rab was the storyteller and it was quite entertaining. When the Queen and I visited in 2011, we saw him again. Since then we’ve stayed in touch on Facebook. 

Because of the ferry snafu, I now realized I would be going through Galway right by the Crane Bar where Rab had moved his performance space. It was also going to be on Halloween night. Who wouldn’t want to hear Irish Ghost stories on Halloween?

The other thing to consider was that I wasn’t spending the night in Galway. Our stop for the evening was Athlone which is an hour east of Galway. Smart minds would have blown of Rab, especially after a day of hiking in the rain and gone straight to Athlone. Smart minds.

We raced from Rossaveal to Galway. We also needed to get some food in us before the show. It rained the whole way and the driver in front of us made sure to go extra slow for safety. 

We had dinner at the Mona Liaa Italian restaurant across from the Crane Bar. We looked up the menu online and determined we each would have 12” pepperoni pizza, because 12” was about a personal size right.

They must not have had a ruler in the kitchen, because the pizzas were closer to 16 than 12. But they were good and disappeared quickly.

We made it to the Crane Bar with plenty of time to spare. We bumped into Rab at the base of the stairs and took us up before they let in the regular crowd. We had good two or three minutes of conversation with Rab before it was show time.

The show was really good. Rab has grown tremendously as an artist. When we first saw him, he told interesting stories. Now, his stories are still interesting, but he tells them really well. A testament to that is that the Crane Bar was standing room only. The Queen and I were probably the oldest people in the room. And everybody seemed to have a great time.

He told two stories and did on audience participation piece at the end. The first story about Reverend Solace was really good. The second story about Lord Solace was okay and seemed to steal from Macbeth. The audience participation with a wolf, a skunk, a porcupine and a box with cake in it was just fun.

We had no time after the show to talk to Rab except for a brief selfie. We had to be in Athlone by 11 before our B&B closed for the night and it was already 9:30. 

We drove a bit fast. Google was our friend although it seemed to be taking us through worse and worse neighborhoods to get to our accomodations. I feared that I was finally going to come up poorly on internet hotel choices. But we turned a final corner and came upon a really nice B&B, the Shannonside. It was a like a stately old home. It was also the least expensive place we stayed.

Our host was still awake when we arrived. He showed us to our room. We promptly went to sleep.

[Greg]

Was Bill Murray doing a pub crawl in Limerick last night? Yes. Yes, he was.