Christy,

Welcome back. I was in Ireland at the same time you were. How about those 120 kph gales? One almost knocked over my 6'2" hubby.

Thanks for starting your report. Can't wait for all the juicy details. And congrats on losing so much weight! That is some accomplishment.

Michele

Christy, thanks for the report. I see we were in Dingle the same days. The blowy day we went over Conner Pass then went to the Cliffs of Moher and it was knocking people over O'Brien's tower was closed. I'll post pic's in my report when I get to that day.

Frank

Christy,

Glad you enjoyed Cushendall. I will have to stop to see Riverside next time. Do they have off-street parking?

Michele

Saturday, May 14th: "We're not climbing all the way up that, are we?"

Up, up, up! We were up at 6:30am, and discovered that the light in the bathroom is motion sensitive. If you stay still for too long (say, in the shower), the light goes off. And the sensor is not near the shower, so you have to stop and wave your hands as you shave your legs disconcerting to say the least. However, that's part of the adventure of traveling! It was raining a bit, so we decided to do some driving. We drove the Glenaan Scenic Route and the sun started peeping out of the cloud cover occasionally, in between spats of rain. We saw waterfalls, bridges, lots of sheep, a few goats, lovely rolling hills and tiny, windy roads. We ended up in Cushendun at one point, and explored a church back in Cushendall before breakfast was ready at 8:30am.

In the lovely breakfast room there were lots of nautical items we discovered that our host, Pat, used to be in the merchant marines, and worked as the harbor master now. The room had a slideshow of local photographs to some quiet traditional music to accompany our breakfast. Full Irish breakfast consisted of the usual fried eggs, brown Irish soda bread, bacon, mushrooms, sausage, and grilled tomatoes. There were potato pancakes and fried bread, as well.

After filling up to the brim with food, we were off to the Torr Scenic Road, Torr Head, Fair Head and more Antrim Coast delights. The sun was shy at first, but started peeking out as we got nearer to Carrick-a-rede Rope Bridge. This area is listed as a tourist spot, but very little of what I saw mention the spectacular white and rock cliffs that surround the spot. On our way to the bridge itself, we walked by a young man trying very hard to sell us some programs. He tried guilt right off, by saying how stressed he was we at least stopped to chat with him. He lived on Rathlin Island (we could see it through the mists), which has a total population of 54 people. He had to drive his boat into work every day. We climbed over the bridge, all around the island, stared in awe at the beautiful coast, and wandered back. It is a long walk, and there were many tourists braving the winds, but it was definitely worth it. I think it was the most beautiful spot along that coast that I saw. It was wonderful to sit on the rock, look out over the seabirds darting into the waves, and realize I was there, in my home Ireland, once again.

Our next stop was the Giant's Causeway, something I'd wanted to see for many years. I had visited the Isle of Staffa in Scotland in 2008, the other 'side' of the causeway. The hexagonal basalt rock formations are surreal and strange. The walk down to the causeway was up and down, and beautiful as well, but the rain kept coming furiously through every 20 minutes or so. Then the sun made up for it by sparkling down on the wet surf and rocks. I had picked up a cheap rain poncho at the Rope Bridge and it was my most valuable purchase the entire trip! An umbrella would have been useless in the wind.

This site was more crowded than the Rope Bridge, but it was more open and climbable, as well. I was able to find some lovely photo ops here and there, and then the rain hit with a fury. We sheltered behind an outcropping until it died down, and we started the long walk back. The small café was bursting with people due to the furious wather, but I managed to get a hot Irish Coffee to keep me warm. We got back into the car and headed towards Dunluce Castle.

We ended up taking a wrong turn, despite having our handy-dandy TomTom SatNav to guide us. It tried to take us into Derry, but V beat it into submission, and we found our way. Dunluce was another spectacular spot, a castle situated on a sea cliff, with part of it having fallen into the sea hundreds of years ago. We had the place almost to ourselves, and the sun cooperated by shining through the rain and giving us some lovely views. The only other visitor was a large black cat who obviously owned the place, though he disdained from being petted.

We went into the town of Bushmills to find some lunch. It was about 3pm by the time the effects of the breakfast wore off, and of course that's when many pubs close for food. However, we found a tea shop called The Copper Kettle that served Irish lamb stew, and we had a warm, yummy, savory break.

We picked a road going south at random, and drove through farms and fields, over hills and through glens. We spotted many wind turbines in the distance, and one or two at individual farms across fields of bright yellow (not gorse this time perhaps rapeseed?). My legs were a bit achy from all the climbing up and down we did today, and the unfamiliar actions of driving a manual transmission without cruise control all day. We went through Ballymoney, and explored the glens of Antrim a little more before returning to Cushendall. The open vistas were impressive after the narrow hedgerows that grow along the farm roads.

We decided to explore the town a little more this evening, so we walked up one of the hills towards the fairy hill. I looked at it, felt the ache in my legs and said "We're not climbing all the way up that, are we?" This became the quote of the day, as it turned out. We found a road called Cairn Road, so I figured that there was a cairn on it off we went! Up and up, through foresty bits, past the fairy hill (and higher). We met Johnny, a local out for a walk, who said there was no cairn but that Layd Church was on the road, later on. We didn't find the church on that road (we missed the turn off) but had a lovely walk. It started raining again on our way back, so we dashed back into the B&B to warm ourselves in the lounge in front of the cozy fire.

We watched some TV (Cops was on go figure) and wandered for some food. It was later now, after 9pm, so the only place serving was the take-away I had some fantastic chicken curry, the place was called The Half Door. We went to Joe's for some more pints and music. It was more crowded than the previous night, but less music around. One room was singing along with something, and we heard several songs, such as The Joker and Summer of '69. We staggered off to bed around midnight, well-pinted and tired from a full day of exploration and visual feasting.

Sunday, May 15th: "We won't walk as much today, since it's raining"
This morning was the morning I was going to teach V how to drive manual transmission a mission fraught with danger and terror! We chose this day as few people would be out and about, especially early in the morning. The weather was a bit rainy, but it was bright enough. We took the Glenarm Scenic Route since we were already somewhat familiar with it, and it had big open spaces that made it easier to see oncoming traffic, if it existed. She did great, without any stalls or grindings, but decided it was much too much work with all the hills. That was fine, I figured I'd be driving this trip anyhow, but at least we tried!

Back for breakfast and then it was time to explore the Glens of Antrim a bit more. We just picked a road and drove and discovered the pain and promise that are the brown signs in Ireland. The brown signs point out places of interest sometimes ruins, castles, abbeys, and scenic views, but also often B&Bs, stores, and other things I wouldn't have thought a tourist would be interested in, such as furniture stores. We deemed these abusive brown signs, and did our best to ignore them when encountered. It did make things confusing, though, as one street junction might have 15 brown signs, only one or two of interest and trying to read them all at even 30 mph was difficult.

We saw signs for Glenarm castle and garden, and I remember reading something about a maze, so we set out to search for it couldn't find it. We ended up driving on the mountainside above the town, and could see it from there, so we went back down to town level, and found it. It was not open until noon that day, still 2 hours away, so we wandered away.

We found Glenariffe Forest and decided to take a walk in the forest path. Now, it is still raining and drizzling on and off throughout the morning, so we are packaged up in plastic like leftovers. However, waterfalls love rain, and make for lovely photographs, so off we went! The forest was lovely primeval, dripping, filled with ferns, water everywhere. There was a recurring odor that reminded me of musty stew, simmering all day in a rustic farmhouse, over the hearth with a peat fire. I think I counted at least a half dozen big, powerful waterfalls, and countless streamlets and cascades everywhere you looked.

We took the 2 mile 'easy' path, and it was delightful. Partway around, we came across a shelter that had 4 stalls with benches, and took a rest several Polish families were bringing little barbecues and setting them up for a party. This was a wonderful day, despite or perhaps because of the rain. It was very natural and rustic experience, with the constant dripping of the water, the rushing of the rivers, and the bombardment of scents from the greenery around us. The power of the falls was intense and humbling.

We finally made our way back to the starting point, and had a lovely lunch in the restaurant there, along with about 15 motorcyclists. All rice-burners, of course Harley Davidson doesn't seem to be very popular in Ireland. The restaurant itself was a bit touristy, but with lovely post and beam ceilings. I had some potato leek soup with brown bread, as I wanted something warm and savory. V had a goat's cheese salad. Much refreshed and recharged, we decided to try the Glenarm castle and gardens once more, as it was well past the noon opening times posted.

The gardens were lovely, but many of the flowers were not yet in full bloom in May, and others had been in bloom and were already a bit past their prime. There wasn't any 'maze', but there were hedges partitioning different parts of the garden, and a strange little spiral hill on one corner, that you could climb up and survey the gardens from above. The sun actually sparkled on the rain-wet leaves while we were there, affording us with a fairy-tale glistening of greenery. We went into the café/gift shop, and we asked about entry into the castle itself; we were told, rather snootily, that the castle was 'in residence', so there was no entry for tourists.

We went on to explore the brown-signed Glencloy Scenic Route, and came across many of the typically Irish stone walls corralling farms across galloping hills, steeper and steeper over each one as we drove. On the way back we found the first Ruin of No Consequence, a lovely ruined structure on a hill but no sign or indication of what it was, what it had been, why it was there.

Coming back to Cushendall, we decided to find Layd Church this time. We drove to where we thought the turn off was, and found a small parking lot and a short walk to the church itself. It was small, but with several lovely Celtic Crosses, so I took some photographs. We then started walking along the coastal path not realizing it was quite long. It was lovely, though, and we saw the shore from up high on this path. We saw islands in the mist in the distance, and V decided that it must be Scotland. In her best Tina Fey/Sarah Palin voice, she claimed 'I can see Scotland from my path!' Fisherman, a man playing with his dog, many varieties of flowers and the occasional mist of rain accompanied our journey, which let us out somewhat down the road from our car.

We made our way back and had dinner at Harry's, a restaurant on the corner. I had the seafood chowder (which surprised me by having chunks of tomato in the cream-based soup), while V had a platter with parma ham, chorizo sausage, and duck egg rolls. During dinner, we decided today's phrase of the day was "We won't walk as much today, since it's raining."

Having grown up in Florida, I took palm trees for granted, but always assumed it was at least a subtropical tree. I had previously seen a couple here and there in the southwest of Ireland, but noticed that here, in the northeast, almost everyone had at least one palm tree in their yard. There were various species of them, some short and bushy, most tall and V-shaped. Many looked a bit worse for wear, and not at all healthy, but everyone had them in their yards. It's not what most people think of when they think of Ireland, and it was a bit bizarre to see them so often.

We warmed up after dinner in the lounge of the B&B, by the toasty fire, and caught up on our facebook addiction. We watched a BBC special on puffins around the islands, and went off for an early night. The host also came in for a bit and talked to us some more, he was a very sweet man, and obviously loved the area.

Tuesday, May 17th: "Thou shalt not waste the pickle!"

 

This morning V was introduced to white pudding for the first time, which she liked. I enjoy both black and white pudding, as well as haggis I truly don't understand why people don't like it, it's just sausage with some grains in it. However, some folks are a little squeamish about ingredients, I suppose. We had breakfast with a woman and her mother, both from Australia.

 

We decided to head towards Errigal Mountain today, to see if we could try to climb it. We drove north through vast peaty bogs, saw some well-placed wind turbines, and traversed tiny, windy roads, windswept vistas of brown and black. There had been some devastating wildfires in the region a couple weeks before, but they were all under control now, thanks to a massive effort by the community, and we saw evidence of the char in many places.

We stopped at Errigal Hostel to meet Karl, a gentleman who climbs the mountain often with groups, and takes wonderful photos of it (he posts them on Facebook). He gave us advice as to where to start, and off we were. We started up the slope and realized it was VERY muddy and squishy. Even though we had proper footwear on, we were both rank beginners, and the slope did rise rather steeply for us. Another group of hikers (with walking sticks and better gear) went up past us, and we decided it probably would be better not to try. Besides, we reasoned we could see nothing from the top, as it was enveloped in mist. Sour grapes, and all that, doncha know!

We wandered around the area a bit, TomTom tried once again to do away with us by taking us across a lake into diminishing sheep tracks. We turned around and went back after some scenic photos. We decided to head up to Letterkenny to see if we could find some adaptors, as the ones I brought were evidently outdated and no longer useful in Ireland, and/or a recharger for my video camera.

While finding Letterkenny, we came across Griannan Aileach, a stone fort on a high hill I had wanted to visit. It was a long, rather scary drive up the narrow road with high hedges and limited visibility, but it brought us most of the way to the top. The remaining walk was short and WELL worth the effort. Again, we had the place to ourselves. The view was sublime, and it looked like you could see half of Ireland from the top. Though the sky still looked stormy, and the wind was fierce, it didn't rain while we were surveying the landscape, and it was a very powerful spot. It was one of those places you were reluctant to leave, because you knew that when you did, the magic of the spot would no longer hold you enraptured and timeless.

We saw another ruin nearby, and found a road that might have led to it but it simply went around it, through flower-framed lanes in a big circle around the hill it was perched upon. We dubbed it our second Ruin of No Consequence, and moved on, almost running over a rather questionable-looking farmer with an axe, standing on the side of the road.

Letterkenny was a maze of traffic circles and cars. We started at Dunnes (like a Walmart), got sent to B&Q (the equivalent of Home Depot), Argos (like AT&T) and then Mats (like Circuit City) adaptors we got cheap at B&Q, but no recharger. I resigned myself to taking videos via my still camera until and if my recharger came from Amazon.

We decided to give up and head down to Donegal for the evening, though we ended up back in the UK by accident once or twice. The only place to park in Donegal was a Pay and Display, and we had no Euro change yet, so we went to the tourist office, and they were helpful and happy to provide change. We wended our way through busloads of tourists in the center Triangle of the city, and settled on the Castle Bar Restaurant for dinner.

After having been in places that weren't very tourist-ridden, I had forgotten how braying a group of American tourists could sound, and felt sad that I was one of them. "Is the bus coming back? I had to walk a whole block!" "Oh, look at this cute leprechaun doll I bought! Isn't it precious?" "When is this rain going to stop? It's ruining the whole vacation!" Sigh.

I had a delicious smoked salmon and crabmeat salad, and V had seafood chowder, and we each had a pint, and I felt better.

In Donegal we did our first serious shopping of the trip, going from kitschy tourist shop to kitschy tourist shop. I have a tendency to pick up several postcards from each area to give to folks at work, while picking up actual gifts to those closer to me. While I try to avoid the 'tat and tacky', I still enjoy looking at the offerings and giggling a bit, like the glow-in-the-dark Guinness boxer shorts, and such.

I prefer local crafts, and enjoy supporting the local economy. I waited to buy a knit hat until I found one that was locally made, for instance. Much of the jewelry I purchased was locally made. I won't refuse to buy something commercial, but I do prefer the handmade. I can get commercial stuff on the internet the handmade stuff isn't as widely available, and helps someone make a living doing something they love. Since I make my own jewelry and photography as well (www.greendragonartist.com!) I sympathize and support the effort. The last place we visited still had several other shoppers, but was unable to take credit cards as she had already sent in the night's report, so it was cash only.

The drive back to Ardara was less than a half hour, as we had traveled in a large triangle across the county. We enquired about a launderette, and Marian said there was one that could do our washing for us the next day. We then relaxed a bit in the B&B before we went out for pints.

We decided to try Nancy's again, and as we reached the door, a thin young man named Angus insisted that we come right in. He mentioned that my hair was fabulous (he was rather fabulous himself, which we didn't expect in such a small town!), and introduced us to Daniel and Michael, who were sitting at the bar. He said Daniel was a fantastic cook, and therefore with my glorious hair, we would make a great couple certainly anyone could see the logic there! We settled down to a table, ordered pints and a Ploughman's Lunch of cheese, pickle and bread for a late night snack.

In the course of our dinner, we chatted with the men at the bar, who were quite nice, despite Angus' matchmaking attempts. Angus was evidently quite drunk, and left shortly thereafter. He evidently was a star at the event he night before, dressing up as the Toucan from the Guinness ads. I said he was quite the character. V said 'Character? That's the C word you're going with?' and the whole bar started laughing. We enjoyed the food it had some nice cheddar and brie, and V and I fought over the bits of delicious sweet pickle relish. A bit fell off the plate - Thou shalt not waste the pickle!

We all had a lovely conversation about politics, economics, music, etc. with everyone, perhaps a total of eight people including us. The place was much less crowded than the evening before. It turned out Daniel was a cook there at the pub, but was off for the evening. He was one of the sons of the owners, and Michael was a cousin. There were 6 children, I think, and most of them worked in the pub in some way or another. It had been in the family for 3 or 4 generations, and was a very welcoming place.

-- Edited by Green Dragon on Wednesday 8th of June 2011 12:45:02 PM

Christy

I'm glad you liked Ardara. We spent a week self-catering in the 'Bridge Bar' right across the road from Nancy's. It was once a pub but is now a very nice house with a secret walled garden in the back. Like you, we felt very at home in Nancy's; after a week I felt like one of the family - great oysters too! I'm enjoying your report very much.

Stewart

Stewart, I remember seeing the place :) Perhaps we'll stay there next time, within staggering distance of Nancy's - very handy! Glad to know someone is reading the report - comments always encouraged!



Wednesday, May 18th: "Sea caves and sandblasting"
We woke up and broke our fast, dropped the laundry at the launderette, and headed off for Glencolmcille and the southwest corner of the county for some sightseeing. It was turning into a lovely day, mostly sunny with wind, and we wanted to take advantage of the bonny weather.

We drove through more lonely, wistful peat bogs and farms, and saw a brown sign for St. Columba's Well, so we decided to investigate. It took us along a beachside road, and up a cliff. We parked and climbed a bit farther, but found no well. We did find a fantastic view, and perhaps a couple places where there were markers perhaps they were stations of the cross for pilgrims to follow? There was a church or a tower up at the top, but we decided the way was a bit too treacherous, and remained satisfied with the views of the coastline, rocky and violent with wind-whipped waves.

We then went on to the village of Glencolmcille itself, and passed by the folk village, but it was raining at the moment so we went on to the coastal road, pretty much by accident. This was a lovely drive, but a bit nerve-wracking with oncoming traffic, including busses, on a windy, narrow, cliff-bound road. We ended up in Carrick, which was past our day's goal of Slieve League Cliffs, so we backtracked a bit on the non-coastal road. We found the brown sign we were searching for, and followed the road and then another sign pointed back the way we came. There had been nothing but a café and gift shop along that stretch of road, so we were a bit confused. I went into the shop to ask evidently the wind had turned the sign around, we should continue on up. We saw several signs like this throughout the trip perhaps Ireland should invest in two poles, so the signs don't turn so easily? Or go fix the sign? Ah, but then the gift shops wouldn't get as many confused tourists stopping in and there was droves of them, as several tour busses were parked.

There is parking down at the gift shop, and a second parking lot halfway up the twisty, switchback road up the cliffs. However, there is a third parking lot at almost the top keep going up that, even the busses do it. You will have to open a gate and close it behind you, but you are allowed. We then walked the rocky sloped stairs up to the top, and it was incredible.

I love sea cliffs, and sitting on a high point, looking out into the ocean below, and the waves crashing against layered rocks below, pure power and fury. Sitting on top of these cliffs, 900 feet above the sea, was one of the things I was most looking forward to on this trip, and it was as wonderful as I had anticipated. There wasn't anyone else at the top when we were there, as the wind was still quite fierce, and the stormclouds looked as if they were gathering for an assault. However, there was a stripe of lighter clouds that stayed above us, and the storms parted as if commanded by the Gods.

The contrast and shadows created by the shifting sunlight on storm clouds was sublime and abstract, like an ever-changing tapestry of a living, breathing coastline. The sheer scale and distance was deceptive. We saw a small flock of white birds feeding around a floating island of seaweed below, and they were just small white specks, like sea foam. Again, I had no desire to leave this powerful place, I could have happily settled here for a long time. However, the storm clouds started moving about like a dance, and we figured our Gods-given reprieve was short.

We started back down, out of breath from the beauty of the experience, and as soon as we got into the car, the storms decided it was time to hit. This was to happen at several of the sites throughout the trip, where the weather Gods were kind and gave us sunlight, just enough to enjoy the places we were, no more.

We noticed many French schoolchildren at the sights in Donegal, and many older Dutch tourists. Later on, we would notice busloads of French and then German tourists. It seemed as if all of Europe was taking its vacation while we were.

We drove back down the road, taking photo ops when offered by view and by weather. We stopped in Carrick for petrol at a rather questionable-looking petrol station. Not the scary one that was back down the road a bit, and the pump looked like it was built in the 1930s. We saw many closed, or should-be-closed, petrol stations in our journeys. Some were Texaco, some were Emo, some were unlabeled. Was Texaco pulling out of Ireland? Or perhaps closed just for season, like so many other places?

Back in town at Ardara, we decided to explore the local area a bit. We drove down the road to a brown sign we saw for Lough Cros Point. It turned out to be down a very long (perhaps a mile and a half?) sandy inlet at low tide, and saw a boat slip with crashing waves to stop at. We continued down to another beach, and put our toes in the water. It was actually rather warm, and we weren't expecting that. We walked along the beach a while, noting patterns in the sand and a girl walking with her dog.

We went back down the point for another previously noted brown sign, for Eos Waterfall. I think the Irish name was Eas a'Ranca Waterfall, as that was on my list of things to see for the area. My friend Cathy had mentioned a lovely waterfall she encountered on her morning rambles through the area, was this it? The waterfall was fantastic tall, thin, with a nice little picnic area to sit and enjoy it right in front of it. We went on to Maghera Caves, supposedly some sea caves along the same road. We found the brown sign and it pointed to a path that led into some very tall sand dunes. The parking lot was nearby to some very deserted-looking holiday thatched cottages, obviously not open for season yet. Sure, why not?

Off we went into a surreal world of 12 foot tall sand dunes covered in wavering sea grass, and 25 mile per hour winds, resulting in a sandblasting. I ended up with sand in places I didn't even realize I HAD places before then! The footprints and patterns in the dunes from the wind made it a bizarre, organic, monotone sculpture. We followed the dunes through to the shore, a good twenty minute walk, and figured the caves were in the rocky outcropping but also realized that no one knew we were out here, and the tide was coming in. We decided exploring sea caves with an advancing tide was probably a bit foolish, and turned back to journey back through time to modern life, through the dunes.

We did some shopping back in town at John Molloy's Tweed Outlet, and I bought a nice hat and a couple gifts. V found the first of many cookbooks she bought, one on eggs. We looked at a couple other shops in town, and saw a street vendor van selling food the name was Watcha McCollum we giggled.

I stopped at the church to take some photos of many more Celtic Crosses (I can never get too many of those!) while V went shopping for her required addiction of Diet Coke, and then we went into Nancy's for an early dinner (or a late afternoon meal, whatever you like). I had the special, a plate of steamed mussels, while V stuck with seafood chowder. The mussels were fresh and very tender, and the brown bread was soft and yummy. If Daniel was the cook today, he was quite good.

While we were eating and catching up with the day, one of the sisters came in, with her son, Simon. We chatted with her a bit about the family, picked up our laundry (only E15 for all of it, yay!) and then went back into the B&B. I showed V a couple funny videos we were talking about earlier (Danny Bhoy and the difference between Scottish and Irish accents, and Talking with Animals). V was not feeling very social that evening, so I went back to Nancy's by myself for some conversation and pints.

Nancy's was a bit fuller that night, as there was a large group of French tourists in the second room having dinner. One man talked very loudly, and I could hear him over everyone else in my room, but of course I understood none of what he said, except it sounded like the worst over-exaggerated French accent I'd ever heard.

I met a girl named Lauren at the bar, she was trying to read her book and I kept pestering her. However, she turned out to be quite nice about it all, and we talked a lot. She likes science fiction as I do, and had read the Outlander books, Narnia, etc. I showed her some of the jewelry pieces I made, and brought to show off to folks, and she was duly impressed. She worked as a server at a nearby restaurant, and of course knew everyone who worked here; she called it a love/hate relationship. I also talked to Alan at the bar about our decision not to explore the sea caves he agreed it was a wise decision.

We alternated rounds, and I bought a pint for Alan when he was done with his bar shift, so he joined us. He bought me a bottle of cider while I was in the ladies room, so I drank three bottles in total probably a bit too much. Good thing the B&B wasn't far away!

We all chatted about the Queen's visit to Ireland that day, and how no one thought Northern Ireland would ever join the Republic of Ireland, at least not in their lifetime. We talked about the fires that had been coursing through County Donegal a couple weeks before, and the life of a small town in Ireland. Alan ended up buying a pair of my earrings for his mother, who loved them, and that was a sweet gesture. The place really made me feel as if I was part of the family I can't wait to go back some day. When I left, the owner made sure my B&B was close by and that I could get home alright.

You are most welcome, Bob - but I did it for ME :) :) :) I'm glad you're enjoying the report...

We did give Watcha McCollum's a skip - one of the side effects of my stomach surgery was that I can't eat much, so we at at Nancy's often :)

Friday, May 20th: "We're not climbing up that, are we?" Redux
Luckily, my ankle was feeling much better this morning. Since breakfast wasn't until 9am (by military decree), we went out to walk about a bit before breakfast. However, it started raining pretty hard as soon as we rounded the corner, and of course nothing was open at 7am, so we got back into the car to do some rain-free exploring.

We drove towards Croagh Patrick. I had originally had the foolish thought of trying to climb part of this, until I saw it in person. Yes, you could see the track people followed from quite a distance, but the upper part was at least a 55 degree slope not for beginners, certainly! And with the rain, and my ankle, it was right out of consideration. If I hadn't twisted my ankle, I might still have been tempted to try the lower, gentler portion.

We found a church with a lovely graveyard full of angels and Celtic Crosses, so I stopped to feed my habit and get some photographs. I very gingerly climbed through to the old, ruined chapel, the ivy-covered crosses, and the iffy footing. There was so much ivy and undergrowth covering the pieces of stone and brick that it was like walking in a bog of greenery. Back at the car we went on towards the mountain, like a beacon in the mists.

We saw another brown sign on the way Famine Memorial. It intrigued our interest, so we went to see a very bizarre but moving sculpture (bronze?) showing a large sailing ship, draped with skeletons. It was in the middle of a manicured park, the precision of care that it was kept made it seem quite incongruous next to the rough style of the memorial itself.

We backtracked a bit for petrol, and realized it was soon to be breakfast time, so we skedaddled back to the B&B, afraid that if we were a minute late, it would be 'no breakfast for you!' Noreen was there, and we met her and another gentleman that was helping. Scrambled eggs aren't my favorite, but it was plenty for breakfast with the toast and brown bread. The two women at the next table had asked about (and received) bacon, and we wished we had thought of that, but figured it wouldn't hurt us to have no bacon for a day or two.

Today's plan was to drive around the Connemara Loop and explore that area, and if time allowed, explore some of Achill Island later in the day. We realized that this was an ambitious plan, but we are ambitious folk, and we only had the one day in the area. We drove through Clifden first, and then tried to find Mannin Bay, another brown-sign-promised view. We asked a couple of older ladies walking on the road, they directed us in the right place to Ballyconneely, and a beautiful sandy beach at low tide, a rocky wasteland, desolate and stark.

We wandered around the area a bit, noting houses in various states of being half-built, and others in varying stages of deterioration, usually right next to each other. We were later told that people would live in the old building, build a new one, and simply use the older one for storage and do the same process again, 50 years later. Very rocky, but still plenty of holiday style homes built along that stretch of coastline the views were sweeping and epic. We saw one town with a spa that advertised seaweed baths, the thought of which horrified V. She said she would never take a bath in seaweed, chocolate milk, chili with cheese with fries on top anything she can't see through. To be more specific, anything that she couldn't tell wasn't 'waste matter,' to put it delicately. I reminded her that fish pee in water.

There were lots of horses and ponies, as well as cows, and not nearly as many sheep as had been in Donegal and Antrim. We saw a sign promising that littering would result in a fine, in the oddly specific amount of E1902.61. There was a place called Dogs Bay, and a sign that said No Dogs right nearby rather ironic, that. Farther inland, we had seen one field with about eight horses that seemed not to be penned at all wild ponies? Not sure, but Connemara would be the place to find them, if they were.

We made it around the coast to Roundstone, a sweet seaside village where we parked, took some photographs of the area, and found a place for lunch. O'Dowd's café had a Smoked Salmon Salad and a Seafood ****tail Salad, with fresh whole grain scones and a shared bottle of cider. It also afforded a nice view of the harbor, and an upstairs room with a higher view of the same.

The sun was out most of the day with occasional clouds and not much rain, so it was a refreshingly bright morning and we enjoyed being out in it. We decided it was time to head up to Achill Island, about a 2 hour drive. I have long since discovered that Americans think 100 years is a long time, and Europeans think 100 miles is a long way, and I know Noreen was surprised we'd been planning this much driving today.

When we arrived to Achill Island, I suddenly saw flags and streamers of blue and yellow everywhere. I currently live near Morgantown, West Virginia, and these are the colors of West Virginia University, so I was momentarily confused. Why would there be Mountaineer fans in Ireland? But it was a local school team's colors as well, as we saw several signs with the team symbols on it, as well as a pub entirely in yellow and blue (called the Way Inn).

School was out and the children were everywhere, so we drove very carefully through town. We saw a brown sign for "The Atlantic Scenic Drive" so off we went in search of scenic views. We were not disappointed. There were lovely views of the bay, and some ponies I stopped to photograph more closely. They were very friendly, especially the two foals, and one was quite brave to come right up to me, probably looking for something to eat. The owners were coming out of the driveway while I was there, and waved at me as they drove off. Obviously they were used to the charms of their friendly ponies to the tourists.

We drove around the coast road to the other side (south, I think) of the island, and saw a very narrow, very steep switchback road ahead, but we figured if the giant white bus that was coming down it could navigate it safely, so could we. We went up carefully, especially as the wind had picked up again to about 25mph, and it was well worth the journey. We later found out it was probably Keem Bay, and we had it to ourselves for a good while, though the wind tried it's hardest to discourage our presence. Once again the sun helped us out for photographs, but it could do nothing about Sister Wind. The coast of Ireland is definitely a wealth of wild and wooly coastlines, and I thoroughly enjoyed each one.

On the way along the coastal route, we also found a tower on the water, and it turned out to be Grainne's Tower. Grainne O'Malley was a female pirate who lived in the area in the 16th century, and was rumored to have butted heads with and met - Queen Elizabeth I.

After Achill Island, we headed towards Westport once more. A brown sign prompted us to go looking for a castle, but it was covered in scaffolding, even though it had a fantastic spot on a lake, overlooking a green valley. The scaffolding reminded me of the beginning feature in Monty Python's Meaning of Life, when the Accountants set sail on the wide Accountant Sea.

We settled up that night in the B&B, since we were off early the next morning for the ferry over to Inis Mor (no scrambled eggs for us!). Both Sadie and Noreen were there, and it was clear that Sadie was actually the one in charge. She reduced our bill by E10 since we didn't need breakfast the next day, and was much friendlier and less abrupt than the first night we were there. Perhaps she had just had a bad night?

I had hoped my charger would arrive, but told them that I would be back from Inis Mor in a couple days, and would call to see if it had arrived. If not, they said they could just forward it to my home, and I gave my details so they could. That is what ended up happening, and they were very kind about it. They refused compensation for the shipping.

We decided to take a break from pub food for the evening, and ate at the Indian/Nepalese restaurant down the street, The Everest. (they had takeaway, probably prompting the sign in the B&B room) The food was delicious, we had Chicken Tikka Masala and Nepalese Lamb Masala. The lamb dish was very tasty, sweeter than I had expected, very aromatic. I wished I could eat more, but I am physically limited to what I can eat at one time, due to stomach surgery. And, of course, we couldn't bring any leftovers into the B&B on pain of death.

V was feeling unsocial again, so we went into the small grocery store and got a couple of small bottles of wine for her to relax with for the evening while she soaked in the tub, while I went to Matt Molloy's to meet Debe. I sat in one of the small rooms waiting for either Debe or music to show up. There was a girl from Hamburg, Germany sitting at one table, and a group of folks from Louisiana at another. I nursed my half pint of cider (I was still quite full from the lamb) and caught up on the day's events in my notebook. I find it's always easier to be sitting alone at a pub if it looks like I'm doing something, so I always bring my notebook.

I did hear a girl singing My Lagan Love in another room, her voice was sweet. There were several small rooms, like many pubs in Ireland, so different singers/players could have their own small audience without intruding on the other performers. I liked the setup up, as it allowed for different types and styles of music for different tastes. Joe's in Cushendall had been like that as well. Nancy's in Ardara wasn't doing music the nights I was there, but they often did Jazz or Blues, I was told.

Since I still didn't have my charger, I discovered I was doing fine getting small video clips on my camera. It did gobble up charge and space, about 1 picture 'space' for each second of video, but that was fine as I had plenty of memory cards. That's good, as the charger never did show up to the B&B in time.

As I sat and reflected on the trip so far, waiting for Debe to show up, I realized one of the main differences I saw was that there were decent seafood selections at every place we went shrimp, salmon, chowder, mackerel, monkfish, you name it, they had it. I love seafood, and require a high amount of protein on my current dietary plan. Shrimp has a high protein content, so I ate that frequently, but it was very nice to have several options available. And it all tasted fresh and delicious!

I also realized that as we headed farther south, into 'touristy' areas, the roads got wider and less windy than in Donegal and points north. I'm sure that will change eventually, as more EU funding helps tourism, but I already saw the differences. Of course, Westport and the surrounding areas are also more heavily populated than, say, Ardara, so that was certainly a factor as well. Can't blame the tourists for everything, can we?

I'd long ago learned a very important lesson in Ireland there is no shame in letting the locals drive past you. In fact, they appreciate it when you do, as they know the roads well, and actually go the speed limit, while you're poking along, afraid of what's beyond the next bend or hill. Pull off in a lay-by and they'll blink their lights as they go by in thanks. By now, however, I was driving confidently enough that some tourists were pulling over to let ME by. I felt so proud!

We also noted a proliferation of signs, whether they be warning of twisty roads ahead (which should just be a blanket sign for the entire island of Ireland), or 'no verge ahead' (there was a sign every 20 feet coming off of Achill Island). We posited that there was one little old lady in the back country churning out hundreds of signs for the roads, and she was rather overworked by now. The time-honored tradition of Sign-Making in Ireland, a true cottage industry! Random 'Danger' signs on every bend, 'Concealed Entrances' ahead, or perhaps 'Hidden Dip?' You decide.

The pub is filling up quickly as the evening progresses, but I have not yet seen Debe. I'm pretty confident I'll recognize her when I see her, as she looks a lot like my friend Celesta, so I just continue to observe, sip, and write. A short, older man with white hair comes in and starts chatting with one of the tables, asking where everyone is from. For each response, he sings a song or a bit of a song related to their place of origin. When he comes to me, of course, he sings 'Country Roads' (or a clip of it) when I tell him West Virginia. I told him I was from Florida before that, and that seems to stump him, so I start off with Suwanee River (Old Folks at Home).

I was joined by another older gentleman (perhaps around 70?), who literally put his dancing shoes on evidently he was looking for someone to dance with, but I begged off due to my ankle, as I've never been the most graceful person at the best of times, and my ankle made me a right danger to those around us. He told me the singer's name was Mick Lavelle, and you could tell he loved the singing. Mick continued singing some other songs, including Molly Malone (which many of us joined in on) and Wild Rover, then When Irish Eyes Are Smiling and Black Velvet Band. He tried to get us to sing the chorus on that, but we failed in volume and tune.

The four people next to me borrowed the stool I'm saving for Debe, promising to return it when she arrives. I spoke to one of them (they are from Boston), and showed off my jewelry once more. One man's daughter also makes jewelry, and I gave him my card, as I wrote an article on getting started in the art show business.

There is a rowdy group of girls against one wall, obviously here to drink and not listen to the music, so when two players started in one corner, everyone got quiet except them. I think they were too drunk to notice that the music was even playing. These were definitely session players, there for fun and to enjoy playing, not paid performers here to entertain the tourists. Not that there is anything wrong with that, that's fun, too but there is a definite difference between the two types of entertainment. Paid performers are more polished, and cater to the crowd more, while session players simply play for the pleasure of it, and play what they like and know.

Debe walked through, and I recognized her, called to her. She said she hadn't been sure it was me. She sat and chatted for a bit, and then we migrated into another room, a larger one, where her boyfriend was performing. He was one of the aforementioned paid performers, and he was very good. He knew how to work the crowd, which increased dramatically quite quickly. A hen party (bachelorette party in American) of about 60 girls came in, all dressed like Audrey Hepburn, the theme of the party. It was a nice change from the usual flashing headdresses and sparkling neon jewelry bits of most hen parties.

I met Debe's friend Jackie, a buyer for a department store, she was a blast. We sat and talked about all sorts of things. I dragged my jewelry out again to show it off to them. She told me that it was great stuff, but in all honesty, too high priced for the Ireland market right now I greatly appreciated the information, and it made sense, since everyone was in a recession right now. Dee sang things from traditional stuff like Clare Island to Sweet Caroline, 500 Miles, Daydream Believer, and Always Look on the Bright Side of Life. Fun was had by all!

By midnight I was tuckered out and made my way back to the still hard-partying streets of Westport to my B&B. It was only about a block away, but ducking drunks on the street made it an interesting slalom course. This is definitely not a sleepy town on a Friday night, and had a healthy night life.

Christy,

Glad the twisted ankle was not too bad and you were still able to drive and walk about. I've done the same at anceint sites. That uneven ground will get you if it can.

What a lot of various experiences you had. People who were kind (majority) and those that wanted to gouge you. It's the same everywhere. I like your take on how fast the Irish drive, yet they do things slow. There was a survey done and the Irish are the world's fastest walkers. I can belive that because when my Irish friends visit and we are out and about I can barely keep up.

Seems like you really enjoyed the fresh Irish seafood. I do too. It is so delicious.

As for walking home in the dark; always take a small flashlight to Ireland with you.

I like that you made the best of the weather. That's all you can do in Ireland.

Michele

Sunday, May 22nd: "It's not my inner thighs that hurt, it's my inner butt!"
We slept well, and saw sun in the sky, so we set off to breakfast with refreshed vigor and high hopes for the day ahead. Maura had broken her ankle, and was off to an anniversary mass for her mother's death a year ago, so Joe was cooking breakfast for us. I had some wonderful smoked salmon, and loved a country in which I could have this for breakfast and not be considered odd.

We were concerned about the weather. PJ had mentioned that there was a storm due to come in tomorrow, with 45mph winds; he listened to the marine forecast. When I discussed this with Joe and Maura, they did express some concern as well. PJ had thought they might cancel the ferry back, which would mean we needed to stay on the island a third night, and make arrangements for that and a missed night in our next stop.

Maura was certain that they wouldn't cancel the ferry, but we were still a bit worried. The ferry office said they wouldn't know until the time of the ferry the next day, so we decided that, to play it safe, we would take the morning ferry out instead of the noon ferry, as we had planned. That way, if one or even two were cancelled, we could still get out on the third. The blow was unlikely to cancel all three. Joe said he'd arrange an early breakfast and a taxi to go out to the docks with us and our stuff. What wonderful service (as long as the taxi wasn't Joe Gill and his blue van)!

Joe said he would order some bikes delivered so we could have a little more mobility and freedom, but they wouldn't be here until 10am. In the meantime, we walked up to the village. No tourists yet this day, so everything was still locked up tight, but we decided to see if we could get through to Dun Aengosa, which was nearby. The visitor centre had evidently just opened up, and I think they were quite surprised to see us so early. We climbed the path up to the 2,500 year old fort, from about sea level to a 300 foot cliff. It was amazing to have the place to ourselves the last time I'd been there, I was a daytripper with all the others, and there were probably about 75 people all over the place. This time we had no one but us, the wind, and the now shining sun. It felt prehistoric, momentous, and intimate at the same time. The high wind meant great, crashing, powerful waves far down on the cliffs and rocks below us.

We tore ourselves away from this wonderful place, and got our bikes. Now, this is the first time I'd ridden a bike in probably 25 years, and I wasn't nervous at all until I realized what I was about to try. I'm still a very heavy girl, even though I've lost 100 pounds, I've another 100 to go until I'm at a 'normal' weight. But, after adjusting the seat up much higher than it was (I was hitting my knees on the handlebars!) we headed off towards the Seven Churches.

We saw a sign for Clochan na Carraige I thought I remembered something about that, but the brown sign gave no indication of what it was. We parked our bikes and started walking down a path. Then down another path. And another mazing through short dry stone fences, we finally gave up. We found out later it was a beehive hut, which is fine, I'd seen many of those before, and V wasn't particularly interested in them. I think that's about the time I took my first spill on the bike, landing on the knee I hadn't hurt when I fell at Carrowmore. I felt better with a matched set again, it wasn't a particularly injuring fall, but it did concern V that I fell again.

We went on towards Seven Churches, and found it shortly thereafter, about 2 miles down from the B&B. As we walked down the driveway to the site, there were two farmers (and their dog) trying to get a very upset cow to stay in a pasture. She had another cow with her, and a calf, and she was complaining loudly, and trying to escape at various points in the field. We quickly vacated so the farmers could get their job done without worrying about stupid tourists hanging about getting hurt.

We explored the Seven Churches area a little bit, and took lots of photos (V preferred the beach and coastline, so went and looked at that while I tramped around the church). Again, it was delightful to wander around, get the shots I wanted to get without other people in the way. I found the exact spot I had taken one of my more popular photographs at in 2006, and tried to recreate it. That never works, but I keep trying.

We got back on the bikes and started the long trek to Kilronan about 7 miles from where we now were. We were foolish and did not take the coastal road, not realizing that it was much more up and down, hill and valley. I fell at a couple more times, usually when braking. I couldn't get the bike out of 6th gear (they were both pretty old and rusty, and I think they were both stuck in 6th) so getting up hills was difficult we walked them up. The bike chain fell off the gears when I tried to switch them, but V figured out how to fix that. Then my brakes seized up on me I had a bit of a tantrum, and V suggested we switch bikes, since she had ridden them more recently than I had. That seemed to work a little better, and we made it safe and sound to Joe Watty's. I was SO ready for a pint and some lunch!

We walked in, and found Declan waiting for his own lunch, so we joined him and chatted some more. I was disappointed that the mackerel salad I had loved the night before wasn't on the lunch menu, but got a Greek Salad instead, and it was delicious. V wasn't yet hungry from the Full Irish Breakfast she had eaten, so we just had some pints and talked politics, education, etc. We left Declan and went off into town for some serious shopping.

I had remembered the large woolen outlet from the last trip, and had been looking forward to the selection. I was looking for a sweater to keep me warm the next winter, so it had to be too small for me now, longer (past the hips), zipper was preferred, pockets, and a darker color. White and off-white don't mix well with me, it gets instantly dirty!

I found one that fit my requirements, but decided to shop at the other shops a bit before deciding. We laughed at some of the kitschy bits for sale, wandered down the street to more shops, bought some things there and found Declan again. He was evidently bored enough that he agreed to join us shopping I think he just wanted to see what American Tourists considered worth buying. I got the sweater (a nice dark green) and then we had some ice cream at the Spar. We ran into Ken and Maria, hugged everyone goodbye (their ferry was leaving soon) and rode our bikes back along the coastal route. This route was much more level and easier to deal with, and was much more pleasant, despite biking against the prevailing and increasing wind.

We saw the seal colony basking in the surf, and they were so still we at first thought they were statues put there to fool the tourists but no, some of them moved a bit! We took copious photos, and moved on to the village near our B&B. They were closing up, but V managed to go in and buy some bits and bobs before they were done. We biked back to the B&B and recharged a bit.

After some relaxation and reconnection, we decided to head for Joe Watty's again but not by bike. My inner butt hurt too much to try that right away. We were taking a taxi this time! I had told Maura about my previous night's experience with the blue van, and she said she knew just who it was, he had been a problem before. Tourists beware! Don't take Joe Gill's blue van he has a bad attitude.

Today's taxi driver was John, and he had a jeep. He picked us and another couple up, and took us down to Joe Watty's for dinner. The mackerel salad was back, woohoo! V had her staple of seafood chowder, we had pints, and noticed that most of the folks around on a Sunday night were locals, as opposed to the tourists from the weekend. That made sense, of course and even at that, most of the tourists had been from other parts of Ireland. But everyone was speaking Irish, and that made it more interesting to me. I tried to catch a word here and there, and barely succeeded.

Some other interesting quotes of the day included:
"It's a romantic candlelight dinner now, maybe I can get my thighs rubbed."
"I like the soft underbelly"
"Mine curl like monkeys around rocks"

We chatted a bit with Grace, PJ's wife, and when she mentioned that her sister makes jewelry, I dragged out my stuff again. She ended up buying a pair of earrings, and offered us a ride home later in the evening. I really do appreciate the way Irish folk do things and wish it wasn't such an unusual occurrence in the rest of the world that I have to note it as different.

Sorry you didn't get to see the spanish arches. Here's a few pic's.