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Post Info TOPIC: IC's '07 VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY TOUR


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RE: IC's '07 VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY TOUR


lol!

It turned very chilly today...A sneaky cold wind straight off the sea...But the Waterbus has an indoor part too, complete with bar...

So many Americans today; a group of elderly men bought all my Irish Blackberry jam between them...... Never fear; more will be made soon....see my xanga...
 
Blessings this night...

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AnchoressNun


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Now you're making me wish I had scheduled more days in County Donegal. Next time...

More yarn arrived today. Perhaps I will have room for only one set of clothes, so will need those laundry facilities!

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Slán go fóill, Judy


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Hi Dude.. I was  selling in Donegal Town yesterday; almost a totally dry day so the crowds were out in force.... The waterbus sailed at 3 pm; I talked with many after and they were very enthusiastic and had really enjoyed the trip.. Also I chatted with Captain Billy and said we would be there on 21st..... I will nip into the Town early that day to check the time of sailing.... There are alternative things; if you love beaches, there are two within easy reach. Rossnowlagh  and the almost unknown Murvagh, which has forest walks also and where you can often have the wide, clean beach to yourself.......

We shall see...

Blessings this day; off to the Town again today...

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AnchoressNun


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Good morning....

Yes, Ardara still have two hand weavers there. We had a long chat with them a while back...

Triona is beautiful, but comparatively expensive; the same garments at Glencolumcille are noticeably cheaper. Ardara is surviving by tourism now; all the tour buses stop there, and they give free coffee etc....

There is in Kilcar village another beautiful hand knit place; right in the centre near the Mary grotto; they too have hand looms in a loft. But, again, we found them very expensive. Beautiful cloth though...

Another is the Michael Byrne studio; there are signs to this but it is hard to find down the lanes. When the husband died, the weaving there died too. They still sell very traditional Aran, the most beautiful work I have seen here in fact, and an indigo wool that is exclusive to them.  They have almost no hand knitters left now. And it is "only" the very traditional work there.

I have seen signs to a new hand weaving place in Ardara, but have not had time to go there yet.... 

Maybe before the season ends... 

Blessings this day. 

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AnchoressNun


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Sign me up for that one, Michele!

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Slán go fóill, Judy


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Anchoress,

Thanks for all the info about the woolen mills and hand-knitting. Last time I was in Ardara I was impressed with the knits at Triona. Some of the colors were absolutley beautiful. They also have a huge old hand-loom in the back of their shop.

There are so many wonderful little shops around Ireland. Makes me want to do a shop-till-you-drop tour.

Michele

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Bob; interesting to read re Glencolumcille and the surroundings.. May I add a little local colour, please? 

The "other" woollen mill were our next door neighbours. They are a family firm who endured hard times, and pulled through by diversifying. From the traditional Aran, they created new interpretations, and made new contracts abroad. Now they are thriving, thankfully. 

The loom is silent now, as the man who used to work it is into his 80s, and there are no  young ones interested in learning any more... We only know I think three working looms in the area now. And other small family firms have closed..

Many also have gone into cheaper lines.

The "other" one at Glencolumcille has stayed "pure" you can rely onw hat you buy there as they will tell you if it is machine or hand knit. Pauline, the daughter, hand pieces the machine knits there.

The lady who knits at the reception desk is Mary, the matriarch. She is always there, always knitting, winter and summer. She lives next door.... There is online a wonderful interview done when she and the family were establishing that place; it gave employment when there was little else in the area, and preserved the old skills also.

Their use of yarns is amazing.. inventive...... and they buy locallly, especially from kilcarra yarns , who have also come through very hard times by specialising.
 
Yes, the place is always a hive of activity, thankfully...a different picture three years ago..

These firms are so good to us, giving us oddments they cannot use.

Wish you had bought there; the quality and design are second to none.
Mary is a skilled knitter in a very old tradition...

I have not seen the photos; but yes, the river etc is probably on the way to Teelin. As is the craft/coffee shop you describe as new. Run by a family who lived and worked in New York..... The daughter does the baking, and the coffee is good.

Over and out! Blessings this day  

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AnchoressNun


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Bob,

What a pity about the weather at Grianan of Aileach. On a clear day you can see for hundreds of miles up there. Or so it seems. Thanks for passing along Helena's comments from Ocean View in Killybegs. I am a stickler for details.

Michele



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More: RAINDROPS KEEP FALLIN' ON MY HEAD


THURSDAY, 28 JUNE


                                    "A GENTLE MIST ALL HEAVEN KISSED

                                      LIKE TEARDROPS OFF AN ANGELS WING

                                      DONT YOU KNOW YOULL CLEANSE YOUR SOUL

                                      WITH A WALK IN THE IRISH RAIN"


     After another fine Irish breakfast, our hostess returned my copy of MICHELE ERDVIG'S IRISH DREAM TRIP, complete with her commentary as to how Amazingly DETAILED it all was. I assured her that I would pass on her flattering remarks, so There You Go.


     It wasn't raining as we departed Ocean View, but it clearly WANTED to badly enough that a hard, steady MIST greeted us before the outskirts of Killybegs did. We stopped briefly so that I could snap a few pictures of the harbor. There was a big Festival due to start on either Thursday or Friday night. I parked in a large car park just to the west of town that was nearly filled up by trucks hauling carnival-type rides. I wondered how it would all turn out, given that I needed to be moving on and the weather seemed rather un-conducive to outdoor revelry.


     It rained, off and on, all the way through and/or around Bruckless and Donegal Town with nary a break, until just before we reached Letterkenny. Since we were STILL searching (somewhat desperately, now) for the gift items that friends and family had Requested "that we Pick Up for us, while youre in Ireland" -- we dropped in to the Tourist Office to locate directions to a shopping center. While we were there, we also secured some information as to some of the sites that we had hoped to visit and secured a booking for a B&B for the night. The woman working there was quite helpful and after she phoned in the reservation, I asked her how much we owed. She told us that there was NO charge -- a statement I found thoroughly confusing, as the normal TI charge is 4 Euro, PLUS 10% of the nights booking (which, I BELIEVE is kept by the TI as a commission). Apparently, THIS Tourist Office is run by the local equivalent of the Chamber of Commerce (?) and therefore, doesnt charge!


     Just into Letterkenny, there is a large, busy intersection that has shopping centers on each corner. We went to the one with the Dunnes and scoured the store for some items and then, on a whim, I dragged my wife through an Irish version of a combination / hybrid of Home Depot and Bed Bath and Beyond. Dunno what my wife REALLY thought about it, but I found the tour FASCINATING!!!! As we were returning to the car, the rain returned, so we decided not to explore any more of Letterkenny and instead, resume our northerly journey.


     Arriving in Burt, the rain was light, but steady. The signpost for Grianan Aileach, was small and hard to spot, particularly in the rain. Once we made the turn, we were half convinced that we had misread the sign, as the road led us through a residential area. The houses soon thinned out, however and we found ourselves climbing a fairly steep hill. Near the top was a large gravel car park. A green truck marked DUP (or something similar) was parked in front of a small, 8X10 shed type building, but no one seemed to be about. One other vehicle was parked, but the occupants came rushing down from the Stone Fort, clambered in and drove off, while we were rummaging about in the car for our camera and our two, small umbrellas.


Did I mention that it was now POURING down, by the bucketful???


For those that want to know about Grianan Aileach:

http://www.stonepages.com/ireland/ireland.html


     From the car park, an ancient boulevard climbs, arrow straight to the summit upon which, the ring fort perches. THIS day, it is barely visible -- shrouded by thick gray mists and dark, low, rain clouds. There is a wide gate baring the path. Entrance beyond is afford via a curved, turnstile - type walk gate of common use throughout Ireland in order to separate Men from sheep.


     Once through that bottleneck, we dash up to the entrance and pause within the arched, stone tunnel, enjoying the respite from the driving rain. The structure is amazing. It matters little to us, just HOW ambiguous the historical accuracy of the reconstruction really is.

Dagda's Throne? That's DOUBTFUL. Seat of the Ui Neil? I wouldn't doubt it. Why ELSE would the Munster King that finally cracked so tough a nut, order each of his men to carry away a stone from the place, intent on ERASING its very existence like a blemish, from off the face of the world?


     My wife lingers in the entry, but I rush about, climbing the inner ramparts and scurrying around the inner walls, attempting to envision the COMMANDING viewpoint that the site might afford, were the murky, cloudy sky not so thoroughly INSISTENT upon obscuring it.

I wax, sentimental.

Eventually, we return to the car, thoroughly drenched. I quickly started the car, turned on the heat and cranked the blower up to High, in order to attempt to blow dry our pant legs. Ever the romantic, my wife chose to spend HER time on something MORE pressing. She dug out the CDs and selected a specific disc AND a particular song:


                                     "Hark, now hear the sailors cry
                                      Smell the sea and feel the sky
                                      Let your soul and spirit fly

                                      Into the mystic"


     We sat there, watching the rain roll by, peaceful amidst the swirling mists, atop the high, ancient hill -- the cloud tops nodding and bobbing in rhythm to the tempo.


                   "Good choice," says I. "Fair Play to ye, Missus."


More to Come


Bob



-- Edited by Itallian Chauffeur at 18:35, 2007-09-05

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Merle:

It was their regularly scheduled day to be closed.  We just hadn't noticed the sign.  I believe that last orders are at 21:30, when they are open.

Bob

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Merle,
 
I believe Kitty Kellys is open through September at least. This is their website: http://www.kittykellys.com/ Take a look at the menu. You can walk to the restaurant from Ocean View. Tell Noel the manager hello from me.

Michele

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Bob,
We will be staying for two nights at Ocean View in Killybegs also. Love your report and hope to see some of the same area. Was Kitty Kelly's closed that day or do they just close early?

Merle

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MORE: 27 JUNE, WEDNESDAY


                               THE STUFF THAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF


                 "SOMETHING INSIDE OF ME IS CHANGING

                  IVE NEVER KNOWN SUCH DAYS LIKE THESE

                  IVE SPENT ALL OF MY LIFE WAITING

                  FOR WHAT I DONT KNOW WHAT IT IS"


          The breakfast room at Ocean View is located on the ground floor, at the front of the house. Across a modest, unused entry foyer, opposite the entrance door, is a cozy and comfortable sitting room. Both rooms, due to the elevation and placement of the building, have truly impressive views of the bay. On most mornings, the shore of North Mayo should be clearly visible, but THIS morning, we were lucky to see even part way. We were guardedly optimistic, though, that Ireland would oblige us with sufficient clear breaks to keep our day from being a wash out.


           After an excellent breakfast, our hostess introduced herself. She seemed quite pleased that it was Michelle's review that had brought us to her and seemed genuinely pleased when I offered to leave my copy of Michele Erdvig's Ireland Dream Trip for her to examine during the day. Helena was reminding her helper which guest Michele was, as we set out into the gray, drizzly East. Our first stop was in Kilcar, where we purchased snacks and drinks, before continuing on to Carrick, via the R263. Once there, we turned off onto a small side road to the South, toward Teelin and Carrigan Head.


          It was on THIS road, that my wife believes we encountered the wild river-side car park and its sudden cessation of rain and the burst of sunshine and blue sky. Maybe. Possibly. Perhaps. Either way, the rain was DEFINITELY pouring down when the road came to an end on the large, old, stone pier and I snapped the photo. By the time I performed a nifty, three-point turn on the pier and we made our way back to the entrance to Slieve League, the rain subsided significantly. In fact, it was barely more than a soft drizzle when my wife got out to open and close the gate by the Lower Car Park. And, in the time it took to ease our way up the 1.7 Km to the Upper Park, the rain had stopped completely.


          I didnt really find the road up to the top any more intimidating or unnerving than the boreen into the Mealagh Valley that I drive every year, but maybe that's just me. There were about a half-dozen assorted vehicles parked in the Upper area when we arrived and a few more showed up while we were there. They were all filled with heartier and more energetic individuals than ourselves, as everyone was either already strewn along the long, winding path that disappeared from view at the top of the closest mountain, or seemed to eagerly set out , as soon as they arrived. So, for most of our visit we had the plateau-like car park all to ourselves. Even though it HAD stopped raining, it was STILL, gray, cloudy, WINDY and not even remotely close to resembling what I would consider warm. So, we wandered about snapping photos and drinking in the absolutely phenomenal vistas, until the wind and the chill urged us to return to the Passat and make our way back down the mountainside. The temperature display built into the dash said that it was 10 C.


          Back in Carrick, we rejoined the R263 and continued north and west, into Glencolumbcille. Enroute, we traveled through great empty stretches of gently rolling turf bog, that was clearly, still being worked. Alongside many of the deep-cut trenches were loose and stacked piles of turf. Alongside one hill, we spotted what appeared to be some sort of kiln. Then, just before arriving in Glencolumbcille, we stopped off at a new-looking gift shop and tea room, where we snacked on hot tea and freshly baked scones. I purchased an interesting little ceramic set of nesting sheep for 10 Euro and my wife bought a very nice, light weight, oatmeal colored, zippered wool sweater that was fully lined, for about 70 Euro (I think, but it MIGHT have been 55 E and the 70 that sticks in my head is the approximate US equivalent??) It was the ideal choice, as we live in Florida and my wife is moderately allergic to wool.


--- ANOTHER CONFESSION: EVERY visit to Ireland, I purchase a sheep. I have real wool sheep (one black and one white), fiber sheep, plastic sheep and a few different ceramic / fiber hybrids. I EVEN have a Momma, Papa and baby set, carved from Connemeara marble!


          By the time we departed the gift shop/ tea room, the sun had begun to chase away the clouds! We drove straight through the village, not stopping until we reached the car park opposite Father McDwyers Folk Village. By the time we arrived, the sun had come out to play. We dawdled briefly at the beach beside the car park and then crossed the street. We probably spent about two hours there, wandering through the different cottages and enjoying the surprisingly beautiful weather. We purchased EXCELLENT soup, brown bread and soft drinks in the Community Center and I bought a handful of books in the gift shop before we finally left.


          After we finally departed, we continued down to Malin Beg and parked in the car park for Silver Strand. If you are up to the climb, it is probably THE most impressive beach that I have seen in Ireland. I won't even attempt to describe it, except to say that my pictures really DONT do justice to seeing the real thing. The climb really COULD be a deal-breaker, though, but there IS a bench to stop and rest upon, about half-way down. As we were making our way down, another couple was resting there, on their way up. One more couple descended, just before we headed back up. Otherwise, we had the place to ourselves.


           And, as HARD as the climb DOWN was .......... hmm hmm hmm


           I stopped in to the little petrol station in Malin Beg for water and Diet Coke, before heading back into Glencolumbcille. Just south of the village is a lay by, high on the crest of a ridge, at the end of a long drive. We sat at the picnic tables, looking out over the town, the valley and the ocean beyond and my wife took the opportunity to call her parents back home. They were THRILLED to hear about my impromptu Baptism at Knock, and it was reassuring to know that they were doing well. Our daughter had come to stay in our house and take care of them for the FIRST week, and my wife's sister had replaced her, for the remainder of our vacation. (MILs 82, FILs 89 and neither drive, anymore. They have their own house, but we live in the same development.)


           We drove back down into the village, wandering the side streets to search out some of St. Columba's ancient sites. We found the Slab of God, first, just north of the Church of Ireland building. In fact, we actually parked in the churchyard and walked back to the stone. Then, we followed the signs toward Columba's Seat. The dirt road ended at a small farmyard. Just before the house, there was a wide spot, where we parked. It was at the base of a steep hill that had what looked like a jeep (or goat) path leading up. About half way up the grassy slope was some stone object and a small, white sign. We had seen a similar sign at the Slab of God . It had, TURA COLMCILLE STAD 2 printed on it.


           While we stood at the base of the hill, another car drove up and a English woman just a few years younger than us got out. She and my wife commiserated about their lack of proper shoes for such a climb, but I was undaunted. Using ME as a crutch and/or anchor, my wife managed the climb up to the stone (and back) in SPITE of her somewhat slick-soled shoes. The English woman waited at the bottom, skeptical of our chances for success. On closer inspection, the white sign also carried the same inscription as the Slab, except that THIS sign displayed a different number. The function and original purpose of the stone object, however, was unrecognizable.


          Upon our safe return to level ground, the woman produced a brochure or pamphlet and stated that St. Columba's chapel MUST be nearby. I pointed out a group of stone ruins (with round, white signs) across the road, in the farmers field and opined that the easiest approach would require walking past the farm house and follow a tractor path to a gate that led to the field. Not wishing to trespass without permission, the English woman called out, as we approached the open door to the house and an older gentleman came ambling out. He was quite friendly and not only encouraged us to continue, but pointed out several interesting pieces of information about the ruins. He said that my wife and I had climbed to St. Columba's Well -- the Chair was actually MUCH further up the hill. He also pointed out a small projection rising from one of the mounds of stone. It was a Wishing Stone, he said. And even though he had never rubbed the stone and made a wish, personally, it was well known in the area that doing so DID cause wishes to come true.


I never did find out what my wife wished for, but Im still not rich and I still don't look anything like Daniel Day-Lewis, so if it wasn't THAT?????

  
                             confused confused  confused confused confused          evileye            confused confused  confused confused confused
                             
            The sign by the Chapel ruin had the number 5. Flanking it were two small rock cairns. The one with the Wishing Stone -a carved slab worn almost smooth by the weather and all the rubbing -- was number 4. Several feet away on a small rise, was a third, larger cairn, which I suppose to have been a tomb, perhaps. The entire field was a fascinating and intriguing place.


            As we parted company, back where we had parked, I gave our new acquaintance directions to sign #2. My wife and I drove off in search of the road to Glengesh Pass. On the way, we stopped at the OTHER woolen shop, but didnt purchase anything. It was an interesting stop, though -- in half of the building there were bins and shelves and racks filled up with knit wear of every type, shape and color. There was also, a large, old loom. In the other half, through a partially closed door, women were at work, fabricating items to be sold. Even the woman sitting at the counter was hand knitting, the entire time we were in the show room!


            Back on the road, we enjoyed a pleasant drive through the forest and over the pass, until we intersected the main road, just south of Ardara. We continued north and east, through Glenties and drove all the way to the Tourist Office on the outskirts of Letterkenny. Since the office had closed for the day (it was a little after 5 PM), we turned back and drove the same route back -- foregoing the Glengesh Pass turn off, however, ending in Killybegs, instead. After visiting an ATM there, we drove back to Ocean View, intending to dine at Kitty Kelly's. They were, however, not open.  furious furious furious


            A quick stop at Ocean View sent us into Kilcar, were we ate at a small Take Away just opposite John Joes Pub. We retired to there after our meal for drinks and some good music from two guitarists. We only stayed for about an hour or so, however, as it had been a long, full day.


And, it was starting to rain ------  hmm hmm


                           "DAYS LIKE A SLOW TRAIN RUNNING

                            NOTHING BUT TIME IS ON MY SIDE

                            SEEMS LIKE A LONG TIME COMING

                            NO ONE BUT YOU CAN STOP ME NOW"


More to come


Bob



-- Edited by Itallian Chauffeur at 23:38, 2007-08-30

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Merle:

Thank you.

Michele:

I actually saw that room, through the open door.  It looked VERY nice.

Bob

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I'm lovin it Bob. Great report.

Merle

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Merlene M Black


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Bob,

I'm glad you liked Ocean View. I was in the downstairs room without the ocean view. But what a room! It even has a walk-in closet. Now that is a rarity in Ireland. I also wish I could have taken the quartz countertop off the vanity and stowed it under my seat on the plane. It was that gorgeous. Makes me think I need to redo my kitchen.

Michele



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CORRECTIONS AND SUBSTITUTIONS:

-- MAYBE --

     My wife seems to remember the unmarked, riverside turn-off as being located on the small road running from Carrick down to Teelin and/or Carrigan Head.  Based upon the way the pictures were taken, she MAY be right...  furious

     Interestingly enough, she remembers the dramatic break in the weather as nearly identical to the way I described it...  biggrin

     And that's HER story, and SHE'S sticking to IT!   biggrin

Bob

-- Edited by Itallian Chauffeur at 19:39, 2007-08-27

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MORE: 26 JUNE, TUESDAY


                                AT LONG LAST --- THE PROMISED LAND


            "IT WASN'T TO BE, OR YOU'D BE STANDING NEXT TO ME

             IT WASN'T TO BE, OR YOU'D BE STANDING THE SAME GROUND

             IT WASN'T TO BE, OR WE'D BE DRINKING FROM THE WELLS OF THE WORLD

             AND LIVING IN EACH OTHERS SHADOWS"


          After a refreshing sleep, we awoke to the same gray skies that seemed to have followed us everywhere. After a delicious breakfast, we bid farewell to the couple from California and struck up an interesting conversation with another guest. She was an older woman (I would GUESS, in her mid-sixties), who was blond haired and blue eyed and spoke EXCELLENT English in what I swear was a German accent, yet she told us she was Italian and that she lived in Rome. She was just out and about, touring on her own. We lingered at the table, enjoying the view of the water, but our enthusiasm to hit the road was dampened, somewhat, by the inhospitable nature of the weather.


          We have been wanting to explore this part of Ireland for years, but circumstances have always thwarted every effort. The closest that we ever came, was in Feb, of 2002, when ill-health of one of our traveling companions (he came down with the flu) and persistent rain and cold weather had forced us to turn back, just shy of Ballyshannon. So, even though the weather wasnt terrific, we were still excited to finally traverse the unfamiliar ground of virgin territory.


          Once we finally started driving, it seemed to take no time at all to reach Donegal Town. We stopped in to the Craft Village just South of town, but we didnt do much more than window shop. I first read about the Craft Village YEARS ago and had ear-marked it as a Must See place during the ill-fated 02 trip. While we LOVE Irish crafts (and PARTICULARLY, Irish pottery), I must confess that I was little impressed by what we saw. Some of the pieces were nice enough, but it SEEMED very much like everything was HIGH ART (and in all capital letters! ), rather than accessible arts and crafts. I doubt if I would stop in, again.


          Up the road just a short distance, we parked in the car park that is just below the Diamond. I had been feeling a bit despondent, after realizing just how CLOSE we had been to Donegal, when we made the decision to turn back, but that quickly faded. We really enjoyed our time in Donegal Town, but we would have been MISERABLE, in Feb, of 02! The town is very compact and infinitely walk able. In fact, walking is probably the ONLY way to truly enjoy your visit. Given the circumstances, in 02 .


          We walked around the Diamond counter-clockwise, drifting in and out of various shops and doing a bit of shopping as we went, until we arrived at Donegal Castle. It is VERY nicely restored -- on a par with Ross Castle, in Killarney, I would say, although the adjoining Manor House is no more than a shell. We joined a tour in progress and then wandered about on our own. After quite some time spent communing with the past, we wandered back onto the Diamond to take in the Monument to the Four Masters. When it began to rain, we retreated into a small Take Away for a light lunch which lasted longer than the rain fall. With our hunger and the worst of the rain satiated, we made our way back to the car and began our drive toward Killybegs.

We stopped in Bruckless to explore the Church Yard and Round Tower. We wandered about for 20 minutes or so, but then, the returning rain sent us scurrying back to the Passat. The downpour ceased, as soon as we were back on the road, affording us clear views of the coast and countryside, ALMOST all the way into Killybegs.
 

                                        www.welovedonegal.com


          I wanted to see St. Catherines Well, the ruins of the church and Kits Castle, St. Marys Grotto and Nial Mor McSwynes Slab Stone and walk along the harbor, but alas, none of that was to be. The rain returned with a vengeance -- the weather conspiring against us, mocking our plans. We drove around the town, then surrendered to the decision to hope for a better opportunity on the morrow. As the road skipped uphill taking us out of town, the rain ceased -- seemingly TAUNTING us.



          But, its been my experience that Ireland gives back every opportunity that it takes away. As I glanced about for a place to stop and reexamine our decision, two things occurred, simultaneously -- I noticed a gravel Lay By (turn off) and the small, swift river that it bordered, on the left hand side of the road AND the sun (remember the SUN???) burst through a heretofore non-existent hole in the clouds. Without even thinking, I pulled the Passat in, grabbed the camera and made our way down to the waters edge. It proved to be even BETTER than our first glance had suggested.


          It was a narrow, but very fast moving stream, the bed and banks strewn with large rocks and boulders, so that a series of short waterfalls dropped the water down to the level visible from where we had parked. All around were beautiful flowers, too robust to be wild, but too disarrayed to have been cultivated by design. It was a magical place and we dawdled there for nearly half an hour before clouds closed back in and chased us back to the car. Then, of course, there was no longer any motivation to re-attempt an exploration of Killybegs.


                               TWO INTERESTING SIDE NOTES:

1) The riverside scene reminded me of time spent -- DECADES ago, along the Cashe La Poudre River in NE Colorado --

(see: http://gorp.away.com/gorp/resource/us_river/co_cache.htm ) --- with MOST of the SAME individuals that comprised our aborted, Feb of 02 trip.


2) The pictures chronology suggests that this turn off was actually located just beyond Largy and Ocean View Guest House, but its MY MEMORY. Since the place was entirely TOO BEAUTIFUL to be over-run by tourists and to become strewn with garbage and paper wrappers, it would be best if the location actually is a trifle ambiguous -- so that only those truly interested enough to search it out ever visit there.

Besides, it seems much more DRAMATIC, this way. So, thats my story and Im sticking to it!!!!


          The N56 from Donegal to illybegs and the continuation onward, beyond Largy, and eventually, Malin Beg, via the R263, hugs and skips along the waters edge as if it were laid out by following the path of a gigantic skipping stone. Just beyond Largy, it drops down to the sea then bounds, sharply up and away. Any decent map of County Donegal shows that location as an observation point and there is a large lay by there, complete with a few picnic tables, wedged between the two lane road and a railing intended to keep the fool hearty from tumbling into the waters of Fintragh Bay. As I pulled off there, to enjoy the views, the rain softened to a fine, light mist and the sun peeked over the edge of the clouds into a narrow stretch of fine, blue sky. We turned back, toward the car, placing the bay at our backs, and there, just across the road, about ½ up an impossibly green hill, sat our B&B, Ocean View (INDEED, HOW APPROPRIATE).


THANK YOU, MICHELE
---With a view like THAT, I do believe we might have been willing to stay in a HOVEL (Which, OF COURSE, Ocean View is anything but .) !


          The place DOES have one drawback, however. As I mentioned, the place sits on a sharp curve of the road. To actually access it by car, its actually a bit tricky. Returning to the R263, by exiting the lay by, you drive almost due north for about 100-150 feet. Directly in front of you is Kitty Kellys, so the R263 turns very sharply, uphill, to the left (West) and runs another 100-150 feet, before disappearing over a small hill. The side road to Ocean View is a SHARP right, just along side of Kitty Kellys, so it intersects the R263 in the dead center of a DOUBLE blind curve. I would HATE to try to find it, at night. Entering and exiting there on a gray, rainy and cloudy day was unnerving enough. Im not trying to discourage or dissuade anyone from staying there. Quite the contrary -- I HIGHLY recommend Ocean View to one and all. I just feel the need to emphasize the ONE flaw so that future guests arent overwhelmed by it.
          I also SHOULD probably MENTION that my wife is EXCEEDINGLY gun-shy about blind intersections, ever since someone pulled out in front of her and she fractured her sternum and cracked 2 or 3 ribs, in the resulting accident! My Mother-in-law was driving then (she broke her ankle) and the accident took place on a straight stretch of road. The other driver just never saw them (or, apparently, the half dozen cars BEHIND them) and presumably, couldnt read the big, red, octagonal STOP sign. Ironic, perhaps, that they were exiting from the Library parking lot.

(Maybe were TOO sensitive????)


          After you negotiate the turn at Kitty Kellys, you drive about ½ way up a moderately steep hill before turning into the gateway to Ocean View. Once you cross the metal roll cattle guard, there is a long, fully paved parking area with plenty of available parking that leads up to the rear of the house. We were greeted by the owners daughter, who showed us to our room, upstairs and to the right. It was a family room, one double and one single, with two dormers equipped with small bookcases and sitting. With some effort, you could see the bay from either.


          After securing our room, we decided to follow our hostess advice for dinner and made our way to the Clock Tower Restaurant, which we had passed, just a few kilometers to the east, on the way to Ocean View. The building sits down, off the south side of the road, encircled by a development of detached, two storied Holiday Homes, that were mostly un occupied. The restaurant appears to be an all new building that was attached to the refurbished Front Wall of what was surely an IMMENSE Manor House stables. Its central feature is a tall, towering section that contains, appropriately enough, a huge, working clock. Hence, the name.


                                 ANOTHER BRIEF ASIDE:

The Anglo-Irish Ascendancy SEEMS to have had an almost PRETERNATURAL OBSESSION with time, time pieces and the recording of time. It is my pet theory, given the remarkable, uh, FLEXIBILITY of the native Irishs time sense --- that the ultimate reason that the English finally GAVE UP on Ireland, was their INABILITY to reconcile those two WILDLY divergent outlooks.


          Inside, there was a hallway that channeled customers to either a (presumably) elegant, special function dining room, upstairs and the regular, restaurant and bar. We werent looking for elegant (and the upstairs WASNT OPEN, anyway), so we chose to eat downstairs. The place was all heavy carpet, dark wood and stone -- quite nice, actually -- and we seemed to have it all pretty much to ourselves.


          After a pleasant meal, we drove around the nearby development, checking out the homes. There were at least 20-25, with additional vacant land available for probably 20 or 30 more. Only three or four had cars parked at them, indicating that they were currently occupied and an equal number had For Sale signs displayed. While we were driving about, a few cars drove by, heading to a small dirt path at the southern end of the development and parking behind a low berm that partially obscured our view. NATURALLY, we chose to follow, presuming that the way led to a hidden strand. It PROBABLY does, but we never found out, for sure. Once we drove into the parking area, a completely fenced, GAA pitch, complete with ticket booth, concession stand, and bleachers for seating came into view. The cars we had seen were disgorging uniformed teens for either a football match, or a practice. All thoughts of the possible beach were cast aside as we walked the fifty yards or so to the field, but any chance of enjoying a slice of local life QUICKLY faded as the heavy, gray skies chose, once again to drive us from the field and send us back to the warm, dry sanctuary of Ocean View.


          It was only after we had made the mad, wet dash into the building, that I remembered that I hadnt had the FORESIGHT, to have already unpacked luggage!!


                                     "SOMETHING INSIDE OF ME IS TURNING

                                       I DONT KNOW JUST WHAT IT IS

                                       SOMETHING INSIDE OF ME IS BURNING

                                       IVE NEVER KNOWN SUCH DAYS LIKE THESE"


More To Come

Bob



-- Edited by Itallian Chauffeur at 15:36, 2007-08-27

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MICHELE --

          If THAT'S all it takes, I'll GLADLY undergo another IMPROMTU shower to make it so!   hmm

Bob

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Bit,

I hadn't heard that one before. Maybe Bob was babtized as "Irish"!

Michele

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Bob & Michele,

It brought to mind that old joke about the catholic convert who was caught grilling a steak on a Friday, horror of horrors, as he spied the priest, he sprinkled the steak with water and said "You were born a cow, you were raised a cow, you are now a fish"

So Bob,


You were born a methodist, you were raised a methodist..............you are now a Catholic! And to think I spent all those years in parochial school, cathecism classes and doing penannces. All you had to do was try to fill a small bottle at a spigot. Come to think of it, that is somewhat of analogy in and of itself. biggrin

Slan Beo,

Bit

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Bob,

I am still laughing after reading about your accidental  baptism at Knock. Or was it accidental? Could the spiggots be rigged? 

Michele





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MORE: 25 JUNE - MONDAY

  
                   AMONG SAINTS AND SINNERS ALONG THE HARD ROAD

                                  "AND IT'S A LONG, LONG WAY THAT WE HAVE COME

                                   YES, IT'S A LONG, LONG WAY THAT WE HAVE COME

                                    ---- LONG MAY WE RUN"


          The included breakfast was at JULIANO'S RESTAURANT, on the ground floor. Service was impecable and the food was delicious. As we made our way north, the radio informed us as to the REAL reason that there had been such a significant Garda presence throughout Ennis. Apparently, late Saturday evening, an altercation had broken out during the waning hours of the Festival (whatever it was)and a young man had died after being stabbed. I'm not sure, but I think that I remember hearing that he was a member of the Traveller's, but my memory isn't positively clear, on that. In any case, while the news was certainly disheartening, it doesn't change my opinion about our stay, NOR about Ennis as an enjoyable and worth-while destination.


          We by-passed Galway and continued North. It was a cool, hazy day and we passed through occassional, light, 'misting' showers. It was, as they say, a "SOFT" day. We hadn't been this route since 1999 and we were shocked by how built up Claregalway had become. We only just barely recognized the pub we had eaten dinner at, the night we had stayed at Cregg Castle (sadly, SOLD, now and closed for buisiness as a B&B). From here, we headed on, to Knock. We exited the N17 and followed the signs into the village. There was a sign, for Parking to the Right, but the lot looked to be a pretty fair hike from town, so we continued on for another block and then turned, driving straight through the town (the Shrine Complex to our left) on the Main Street. All the on street parking was filled, so I turned right following another PARKING sign and drove around into a HUGE car park only to discover that it was one and the same as the FIRST sign had indicated!


          We walked through a number of little shops and stalls (only about half, of which, we actually open), where we purchased a number of small items -- Large, oversized Rosary Beads for my wife's parents, small, plastic Celtic Cross shaped bottles, for Holy Water and a nifty little hard storage case for aforementioned beads. There were also music CDs and regular, non-religious, Tourist items on offer. After availing ourselves of the Public Restrooms,we walked out of the shop area and found ourselves beside the Tourist Office. Then we cross the street and entered the Knock Shrine Complex.


          I call it a COMPLEX, because it is. It comprises ACRES!!! There are a number of different churches, a Museum, gigantic outdoor Rosary Paths where the faithful can perform 'Rounds', a GIGANTIC Celtic Cross and a long bank of spigots set up to dispense Holy Water at the press of a button. The sky was gray and foreboding, but bright. We visited the Museum (I think it was 4 or 5 Euro each -- the ONLY charge levied while there, although I did see a few Collection Boxes, for donations for various funds). Even as a non-Catholic, I thought the Museum was quite interesting, informative and time well spent.


          My wife went into the main chapel and lit a candle, while I observed a large group of Nuns reciting their Rosary as they did 'Rounds' circling the chapel. Then, I attempted to assist my wife in filling the assorted bottles that she had purchased with Holy Water from one of the MANY fonts. There is a nifty, stainless steel spigot that tapers to a narrow nozzle. After you press the uncappe bottle to it, you press a round button and the water streams into the bottle. I don't know if the button is meant to be a 'Press and Release', or if I didn't have the bottle TIGHT to the nozzle, but in a fraction of a second, the bottle was full and I had been THOROUGHLY sprayed! Holy Water dripped from my hair, my brow, my glasses and my nose and chin. Fortunately, I WAS wearing my waterproof coat and I had it zipped up, against the chill ...


          Even though no Priest was involved, can I count that as having been Baptised into the Catholic Faith???? As I've said before, I was raised as a Methodist. Still, and all, it can't hurt to 'hedge my bet' and claim multi-denominational , can it? I'm reminded of the old Dave Barry joke, from YEARS ago, on PBS:


"The Priest comes, to give Paddy his Last Rites. He leans in, and says, "Do ye renounce Satan and all his works?" Paddy doesn't reply. The Priest asks again, even louder. Finally, he's practically shouting -- "Paddy! I'm after knowing, do ye renounce Satan and all of his works?"

Paddy glances over, uncomfortably and mumbles, "Ah, Father. Do ye really think I'm in any position to be antagoning anyone?"



           After I manage to shake the bulk of the water off, we left the Shrine and walked up and down the main street. Every other shop sold either souveniers, religious items, or housed an eatery. We popped into one of the latter, for lunch. After a meal of delicious hot soup and toasteds, all washed down by steaming hot tea, we dropped into the Tourist Office to arraingeour night's accommodation. We had tentatively decided to stay somewhere in the vicinity of Bundoran (The 'Bath', of Ireland), but the Tourist Office had NO B&B listings for there. It's not that there aren't B&Bs in Bundoran -- it's just that they do such good business that they don't feel the need to pay the 10% Commission to the Tourist Board. The helpful woman DID find us a room on the Bundoran Road, just south of Ballyshannon, at TEEVOGUE for 36 E PPS.


                                 www.iol.ie/~teevogue


          With our accommodation arrainged, we set out from Knock, rejoining the N17.and made our way north, through Coollooney and Sligo. En route, we passed Carrowmore and the stirring sight of Maeve's Tomb. On our only previous trip this far north, in Feb of '02, the weather hadn't been MUCH worse -- it was quite cool (MAYBE 60 F -- probably less), gray and rainy (though, mostly, only lightly), with only rare, brief glimpses of sunlight. Shortly after leaving Sligo, I told my wife that SOMEWHERE nearby was Yeat's grave. No sooner had I said that, we passed a small sign, announcing same, and pointing to the right, as we navigated a banked curve.

          Fortunately, there is a turn off / parking area IMMEDIATELY past the site, which I used to turn around and return to the Drumcliff Church Yard. There is a good sized car park on the grounds, and a large, inverted, "J"-shaped graveyard. There was no charge to enter, nor to park. The long 'leg' area contains numerous High Crosses, most notably, the Drumcliff Cross -- which is located just beside the driveway. Across the N17, in an otherwise empty grass median, is the remnants of a Round Tower. Yeat's Grave rests in the short 'leg', the inscription facing the finely maintained, traditional Church of Ireland chapel, that rests in the "bowl" of the "J". There is a long, narrow tea room and gift shop, mid-way between the Drumcliff Cross and the chapel.


          We opted to enjoy tea and pastry snacks, as it was starting to rain, but it was a SMALL sacrifice, as they were excellent and appeared to be 'home-made'. About that time, our daughter called to check in on our progress and update US on what was going on on the home front. I took great delight in describing our surroundings and our English Major was envious beyond words. I also told her about my newest scheme -- to bring her daughter and our son's son to Ireland, for their tenth birthday (they're only two, now -- 9 days apart.


          After our break, the clouds parted and the sun broke through, giving us unparallelled views of the shore as we made our way into Ballyshannon and found our way to our B&B. It sits on a little hill on a short, elevated drive that runs parallel to the road, facing the coast. There are, I think, three B&Bs, intermingled with three or four private residences. We saw a tour bus there, apparrently dropping off two or three people at each of the other B&Bs (though none, it seems, at TEEVOGUE. We were VERY happy that we had pre-booked, in Knock! Had we waited, I'm sure there would have been two more people from that tour bus occupying OUR bed that night, as when the bus departed, there were still passengers aboard.


           After a pleasant greeting by our hostess, we made our way down to Bundoran for a drive through, but the clouds had thickened up by then, casting a cold, gray and rather desolate atmosphere on the landscape. It didn't help that most of the shops had already closed for the evening. It reminded me of visiting a resort town, like Lake George, NY, either a few weeks BEFORE Memorial Day, or a few weeks AFTER Labor Day. We felt like we were just missing some big, busy event. After securing a good, but unremarkable meal, we returned to the B&B and had a lively discussion about Ireland in the sitting room, with a couple from California.


          All in all, it had been a VERY good day -- and a very SPIRITUAL day, as well. Where else, but in Ireland, can you view so many MONUMENTAL ICONS of our world, in the short span of a just a few hours? We saw the ancient cairn at Carrowmore, the modern Catholic Shrine in Knock, the natural wonders of spectacular blue waves crashing onto the (briefly) sun-drenched, rugged shoreline and at Drumcliff, the early Christian Round Tower and High Crosses, the chastely elegant beauty of the old Protestant Chapel, and the elegantly sparse Literary monument that is the final resting place and last words of William Butler Yeats...


Yeah, it was a GOOD day.  biggrin biggrin


                               "AND IF YOU TAKE THE LONG WAY

                                IF YOU TAKE THE LONG WAY HOME

                                DOWN WHERE THE MAGICIANS

                                AND THE DREAMERS ROAM


                                THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS OF MORNING

                                THROUGH THE VALLEYS OF NIGHT

                                 SEARCHING FOR THE ISLAND

                                 OF YOUR HEART'S DELIGHT"


More to come .....


Bob



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Bob,
 
I'm loving it! I fee like I'm along for the ride. I know exactly what you mean about people who take trips just to cross them off their "to do" list. They will never know what we feel about Ireland. It is a place that is felt not just seen. There is a subtle magic that snares you and never lets go.

Michele

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MORE: SUNDAY, 24 JUNE -- THE FEAST OF SAINT JOHN'S



                         "ALL THE WAYS YOU WANDER -- ALL THE WAYS YOU ROAM

                           ALL ACROSS GREAT OCEANS -- ALL ACROSS THE FOAM

                           THROUGH THE FARAWAY HOUSES -- THROUGH THE SUNSETS ON FIRE

                           SEARCHING FOR THE ISLAND -- OF YOUR HEART'S DESIRE"



A DAY OF DISAPPOINTMENTS -- A DAY OF REDEMPTIONS



          Morning dawned dimly -- gray, heavy skies obscuring the sun. After checking out of Knockdrish, we made our way through town with great regret. We hadn't met up with Sean Radley, revisited Coomnatush Falls, nor eaten at Nibbles. Though we DID have an excellent meal at the Wallis Arms, Jerry O'Connor is no longer the chef in residence. I wouldn't have the opportunity to definitively locate An Shrone this trip. Nor, would I be able to research needed info on the Big Houses of the area during the late 1800's .....


          We DID stop by the Turbrid Holy Well (second largest in all the British Isles) and I DID manage to keep my record streak alive for yet another year --- Since first coming to Millstreet, in 1999, not a SINGLE DROP of rain has fallen upon me, when I have been in the TOWN! Our local acquaintances find that AMAZING!

Still and all, I would GLADLY surrender that dubious privilege, in exchange for some of my missed opportunities.

Ah, well. Guess I'll just have to do all that NEXT time!


          This day is the Feast of Saint John. It is ALSO the 127th Birtday of my wife's Grandfather (also named JOHN). His family was living in the Townland of Ivale, in the town of Kilcorney at that time. There is an Ivale Cross on the old Butter Road. It is visible from Knocknakilla. The Catholic Church in Kilcorney is relatively new, however -- probably built in the 1950's -- so John never stepped foot inside of that building. We've been to Mass in Millstreet, but for this occassion, we chose to attend the Service in Rathmore, Co, Kerry. It's construction was completed in early 1865 (though it has been thoroughly remodeled at least twice since). Though John might never have entered THIS church, either, his PARENTS were married here, on 21 May, 1865.
 
          It was rainng lightly, as we parked toward thetop of the hill, on the side road next to the Church.  Inside, we made our way down the center aisle to the 7th row back on the left hand side, as we face the altar. No one knows why it needs to be those particular seats, but my father-in-law specifically remembers that his father ALWAYS sat in that location, regardless of whatever church they might attend. It is a habit still observed. During our first visit, in 1999, AND throughout the Cemetary Tour, in 2000, Jack made it a point to occupy that pew, in every single church that we took him to. It just seemed appropriate to do likewise, this trip. The most often repeated saying throughout the Mass was "I THANK YOU FOR THE WONDER OF MY BEING". Not having been raised Catholic, nor having Converted, I don't know that this is normal and customary, but it CERTAINLY seemed appropriate!


          It was raining heavily as we left the church, but it had pretty much stopped by the time we made our way into Killarney. We parked in the car park beside the Tourist Office and then madeour way up High Street and on up College Street, drifting in and out of the various shops in search of gifts we had been requested to obtain AND those that we WANTED to purchase. Our time in Killarney was bitter-sweet. We had planned to meet up with Ciaran Wynne and perhaps hear some of his new music, but he had been detained by an over-abundance of performance bookings in Amsterdam. So, yeah -- MORE regrets.


          It rained briefly, two or three times while we were in Killarney. In fact, it rained, periodically, pretty much all the REST of the day. We drove out from Killarney and took the Limmerick road (N23 to Castleisland and the N21, from there) with a longish stop in Adare, at the Tourist Office. Busloads of French, German? (they MIGHT have been Scandinavian) and Japanese tourists arrived about the same time, so it was a BIT hectic. We browsed the shops, grabbed a light snack and had the Tourist Office book us accommodation in Ennis. Given our somewhat gloomy mood and the likelihood that the less than pleasant touring weather was likely to persist, we decided to drop my planned detour into the Connemeara and West Mayo. It would have been a pretty ambitious two days of driving under IDEAL circumstances -- we didn't think it would be much fun to view all that we wanted to see through foggy, water-spattered windows....

So, with MUCH regret, we changed our plans.


          The 'ADORABLE' (my wife's word) young girl from the Tourist Office was enthusiastic, helpful, extremely pleasant AND Irish. We wanted to stay 'close-in', but the Old Ground had no vacancies and everything else seemed a bit too far out of town. As she was browsing the on-line listings, she became quite excited by pictures of a new, 'Boutique Hotel' called the Ashford Court. She thought that it looked "so lovely that I want to go stay there!". It priced out at 118 Euro for the night, with breakfast included. Given the young lady's endorsement, how could we refuse????


           I've never really spent any time IN Ennis. We have only passed through, enroute to someplace else and that was back, before the spiffy, new bypass system had been well and truely implemented. Given that, once we arrived in Ennis, I found myself quite lost. A quick phone call to the hotel provided excellent, turn-by-turn instructions and we quickly found our way. The Ashford Court IS a brand new hotel, but it is in a very old building and there is MUCH construction and remodeling going on, all around it. I would guess that the structure was originally an automobile dealership and repair site, given the layout and location.


   www.ashfordaccommodations.com 

          Having said THAT -- the hotel was WONDERFUL and we would NOT hesitate to stay there again. The room was large, with an enormous bathroom, complete with a full sized tub and it boasted a real, US sized, King Bed that was VERY comfortable. They also have elevators!! It was a FAIR walk into the center of town, (perhaps four blocks?) but not overly long, even given the drizzly nature of the weather. We did a quick walk about town, suprised by a large, highly visible police (Garda) presence. Later, after reading some of the signs, we decided it was because we had just missed some sort of Festival.

            We made our way to Cruise's Pub for a delightful evening meal in the back bar, but regretably, they had no music scheduled, on the night. However, as we exited the front doors, we heard the sounds of live music emanating from directly across the street, to the King's Bar, which had obviously either just been built, or been EXTENSIVELY remodeled. The poster advised a trio was scheduled to perform Trad, this evening. But, when we took seats at the bar opposite the musicians, there were SIX performers. The group was billed as "Eileen, Colm and Foo" -- and, indeed, the young man playing the guitar was indeed, Asian. He was also quite talented. The rest of the impromptu sessiun players were locals, I believe. There was a painfully shy young girl from Sixmile Bridge that buried her head in her concertina, but never missed a note; a fellow that accompanied Eileen on the fiddle, clearly taking his cues from her playing and a short, skinny, old gentleman that acted stereotypically like the matchmaking character from the Quiet Man, that alternated between dancing, quaffing his Guiness and astiduously keeping the beat on a wooden block. Colm alternated between playing the fiddle and the flute. It was also at the King's Bar, that I became a BIG fan of Bulmers. biggrin biggrin biggrin biggrin


           After a couple of hours, we made our way back to the hotel in the drizzly, gray twilight. I hardly noticed.
 

And, I had very few regrets.



                                              " IN A GARDEN OF DAISIES

                                                 IN A CIRCLE OF LIGHT

                                                 SEARCHING FOR THE ISLAND

                                                 OF YOUR HEART'S DELIGHT."


More to Come

Bob




-- Edited by Itallian Chauffeur at 20:34, 2007-08-20

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Michele -- Where ELSE, indeed.  People I know always ask me why I keep going back -- they seem to take a 'Already been there and done that' attitude.  I just smile, and then make plans for my next trip. biggrin

YAYA  -- Wish I could take credit for the quotes, but they were all written by much better wordsmiths than I ... cry

BIT  --  Some background on Sean, from an old thread of mine on FODORS:

    http://www.fodors.com/forums/threadselect.jsp?fid=2&tid=34679685 


"Sean took my wife aside and apologized that he wasn't able to show us his 'suprise' as planned. Don't tell any of his cousins, though. The last time that we mentioned that Sean had apologized to us for not spending enough time with us, one of the older cousins - with a look of shocked disbelief on her face, crossed herself and said: "God save him. He must be near death."
The Irish, on whole, DO have a WICKED sense of humor, but I swear that she seemed totally sincere.

While many might be / are amazed by Sean's treatment of my wife and I, I am not. My wife's father Jack is our Irish link. His father was born in Millstreet, and his mother came from Drimoleague. Back in the early 70's all Jack's siblings made their way to Ireland, except for him. With nine children to raise, he could spare neither the time, nor the money. For his 40th wedding anniversary, all of us chipped in to give them the money to go, but Chernoble happened and the US bombing of Libya and they chose to travel domestically, instead.
In 1999, my wife demanded that WE go to Ireland and we bullied and cajoled Jack into coming with us. He was 81 and his eyesight was growing pretty dim, but he finally made the trip, to the great joy of the Irish cousins. The next summer, we took Jack and his wife with us, again.

Now, in 2005, Jack is 87 and nearly blind. That monumental a trip is beyond him. But Sean has great affection for us, I've no doubt -- because WE brought Jack Doody "home"."

Bob



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Bob,

We should expect your book to be published and announced for distribution, exactly when? This is, as have been your other reports, a phenomenal piece of writing. The segments have been informative, humourous and reflective in very easily digested portions. I was drawn into your description of cloud walking and felt as if I were on the road with you to Uncle's house. He seems quite the elder crumudgeon. biggrin

I await another installment eagerly.

Slan Beo,

Bit

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Very moving, Bob. You're a poet too.

Joan

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Bob,

Wonderful stuff. Loved your memory of "walking on clouds". Where else but in Ireland?

Michele

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MORE: HELLO, GOOD-BYE AND UNRELATED COMMENTARY


                       "Hello, Sister Susie -- It's been so long, since I saw you.

                               A year ago, last Tuesday, though

                               I'm always thinking of you."


23 JUNE:

Though rain HAD fallen during the wee hours before dawn, the morning sun burst through the windows, enticing us outdoors, to revel in the joyous glow. After a hearty breakfast, we did just that -- bidding 'Adieu' to Baltimore and making our way north, to Skibbereen, where we stopped to purchace some fresh fruit, a rhubarb tart and some sweets for our scheduled afternoon tea. We wandered through some shops and also purchaced two fine replacement Cork sport jerseys (these were for Hurling). Moving on, we detoured to the Barn Gallery on the SE edge of Drimoleague. This was the source of the two large prints of Castle Donovan that we had purchased during our April '06 visit. The resident artist was away, but her husband runs a rather impressive business resurfacing and restoring antique porelain sinks, toilets and bathtubs-- particularly those of the CLAW-FOOTED variety. He opened up the small studio for us and we bought four small prints (5x7?) of local shops, personalized by the addition of different family names (we chose O'Driscoll and McCarthy -- my wife's G-Grand Parents). I think they were about 10 or 12 Euro each, mounted and unframed. Then, we made our way to Cousin U's 'week-end' home.


Cousin U was born in Drimoleague. She and her family lived there until she was about 12. Then, persuing greater opportunities for their children, her parents sold the family farm and purchased another, in East Cork. About a year and 1/2 ago, U bought this modern, three bedroom, two bath, semi-detatched house, as a Country Retreat. Mostly, her parents use it on their frequent trips to vist family and old friends. The side garden (yard, to us Yanks)is just marginally large enough to qualify as a separate building site -- which made the purchase ammendable to her husband, the builder. Not, that they have any CURRENT plans (or time) to do so .... U had decided to stay over, in Drimoleague, in order to do a little 'up-keep' and cleaning -- and as an excuse for a short, last visit, with us.

We had a pleasant visit, for about two hours or so, including a tasty and robust lunch. During one of my sojourns outdoors for a smoke, I managed to finish up the last bit of mowing. Using the European Electric mower was, uhm -- EDUCATIONAL, but I DID manage to get it done without running over that 220 Volt power cord! We made plans for her to join us in Florida for my father-in-law's 90th birthday, in March and then reluctantly parted company. We had already phoned ahead. It was time to make our way "Over the Mountain' to Coomleagh.




                                    "I'll take a little time

                                              To see which way the wind blows.

                                              But if you give me a Sign,

                                              I'll keep you in mind."



I chronicled the drive in a previous Trip Report (The Great Sheep-Shearing Debacle in June of 2004), but some commentary IS called for. Driving out of Drimoleague, you pass through Deelish and turn north, to pass the ruins of the ancient stone keep of Castle Donovan. That narrow, steep and winding "road' (bohreen) is NOT for the Faint-of-Heart, or the 'Green Blur' tourist -- It can NOT be Rushed through. There is abundant flora and fauna -- life both wild, and domesticated -- Sheep, cattle, fox, deer. In my opinion, Foot-for-foot, there is no finer drive in all of West Cork. There are also incomparable vistas, but none are more spectacular than from the Crest of the Hill, near the small sign that simply states: Mealagh Valley.




From:             http://www.cork-guide.ie/bantry/btry_tur.htm


                      "Lough Bofinne/Castle Donovan - 24km (15 miles)

Driving out of Bantry by one of the roads to the east one encounters one of the famous trout fishing lakes of Ireland. Four miles further on, the ruins of O'Donovan Castle is encountered as well as the famous mound of rocks signifying the tribal seat. By taking the road to the north past the Castle one enters the Mealagh Valley noted for its concentration of megalithic monuments. "

Local web:


                http://www.mealagh.com/



To the south, the mountain tumbles down through miriads of patch-work fields -- past Drimoleague, past Skib, and even, past Baltimore, all the way to the Atlantic Ocean, beyond. From that lofty height, distance reduces Castle Donovan to a mere pin-prick intrusion onto the landscape. On a clear day, you can see the water. Before you, the path descends through precarious turns and switchbacks, to the valley floor that runs East-West. A small stream runs through it, fed by trickles and torrents that spill down, creating miriads of gushing waterfalls whenever it rains. A packed, dirt (and often, muddy) oval encircles the outer edge of the valley floor- separated by the relatively flat flood-plane of the stream. Surrounding THAT, the land rises equally steeply, to the North and South. To the West, is Bantry -- the Bay also visible on a clear day. To the East is the imposing, and even more harrowing path to the top of Nowen Hill. From THAT summit, a sharp eye on a clear day can view Cork City, Killarney, the Bearra and Mizen. We, however are not so fortunate. Sometime along our way, without our notice, the clouds had formed -- thick, and gray -- and chased the sun away. STILL .... It is a sight, to behold, IRRESPECTIVE of the weather.




AN ASIDE: Once, years before, we had stood beneath the Pylon atop Nowen Hill, enjoy the views. It was a bright, crystal day. In the valley to the west, a low fog began to build. I remember standing there, watching the white fluff churn and tumble its way up the side of the mountain until it gently spilled over the ridgeline like soapsuds from an overflowing washing machine. It crawled and bubbled along the ground until the grasping tendrils clung to my legs and feet. (Think of shredded cotton, stretched into fibery whisps that are very nearly transparent.) As we made our way to the car, I could barely see my feet. It's one of those images that will never fade -- I'll always remember the day that I walked atop the clouds.



As we scaled the steep, rutted driveway to Sean's house, there was with a certain bit of of trepidation. He is an 82 year old bachelor that has lived alone for most of his life. The modern world intrudes only lately into the Meleagh Valley -- and only LIGHTLY, into Coomleagh. The other Cousins tell us Sean is VERY unpredictable. Sometimes, he is welcoming and gracious, but other times, he is querrulous, rude and inhospitable.. As the house comes into view, the question is quickly settled... Sean has planted himself outside, in a chair beside the door facing the driveway, in anticipation of our arrival. It's a GOOD day. We have an EXCELLENT visit.



A few hours later, after tea and a brief stop at one of Sean's neighbors, we follow the twisting route out of the valley, East, past the base of Nowen Hill and make our way to Macroom. From there, we turn North, onto the R583 to Millstreet. Drimoleague is where my wife's Grandmother was born. Her Grandfather was born hereabout. This is North Cork -- more sedate and civilized than West Cork and more warm and inviting than East Cork. We check in to the B&B (Knockdrish 35E PPS). This is where we spent our first-ever night in Ireland, back in '99. It's not a GREAT B&B, but it is comfortable and familiar and we like it. We've stayed three or four times, over the years. Oddly enough, we have always been given the exact same room each time -- without requesting it! Guess it was meant to be.


We head out for dinner at the Wallis Arms and then take a drive out to Rathmore, Co. Kerry, to find out what time Mass is held on Sunday morning. It begins to rain, just as we are entering Ballydaly. It comes in waves -- occassional short bursts of hard showering that punctuate the regular, atypical, "soft", misty air. After a brief stop at the Petrol Station across from the church, I drive back into and through Millstreet, and make my way South and East, to Knocknakilla, upon the side of Mushera mountain. It's about 9 PM. There is no traffic. We have the mountain and the collection of stone rings, stone circles and standing stones to ourselves. Here, There Be Giants. Here, They Raised Up towering stones, that were ancient, when the Pyramids were new.


I park the car across the road and step out into the wind and the misty rain. I light a cigarrette, lean against the slick, wet-shiny, glossy -black Passat and listen to the wind, trying in vain to decipher the stories it has to tell. I think about the ancestors. I think about their lives and their deaths -- reciting their names in a litany, like a chant. I think about the day when my children will stand hear, calling out MY name, as they scatter the ashes and I wonder if the wind will take up THAT tale.



This time, I don't laugh at myself. This time, it doesn't feel like arrogance.


I get back into the car and drive further up the mountain to Saint John's Holy Well. It IS the Eve of the Feast of Saint John, after all. It seems only fitting to draw off a bit of water from the well. Besides, it's reputed to be a cure for warts! As we drive back to the B&B, the rain slacks off. By the time we park, it isn't even misting.

The air is HEAVY with moisture, though. The Wind carries the promise, the very real threat of heavy rain, to come. Sure enough, the sound of it lashing down, wakes me, just before dawn. But as I lie there, listing to it, the sound of the wind dashing the rain against the tile roof lulls me back to sleep.



                                 "Will the Wind ever remember

                                  The names it has blown, in the past?

                                  And with this crutch, it's old age, and it's wisdom

                                  It whispers, "No, this will be the last."


More To Come


Bob



__________________

Bob

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