Ireland travel journal 2008

Ireland 2008
This was our 11th trip over to Ireland, our 3rd in the springtime of the year. The weather was predictably Irish for March and April – 40s, some rain, some sun, lots of clouds, gale force winds, and white caps even on the lakes! We even saw a snow flurry or 2, and the last 2 days were sunny and around 60*. One night in Galway, where our hotel was right on the Atlantic, I was aware all the night through of howling winds.

We left on a Wednesday afternoon, out of Dulles, on St Keeva or, in Irish, Naomh Caoimhe. It was so nice not to have to go first to Boston, or NY, or London, but flying direct from here meant flying into Dublin, rather than Shannon, as is normal. That suited us, as it has been years since we spent any time in Dublin, aside from the occasional day trip every 3 years or so. Traffic in Dublin is a nightmare, parking is worse – which can combine for a really stressful day trip, and a decision to skip it. So since we were flying into Dublin, we made a plan to spend a few days there on foot – the best way to see Dublin.

We had a pretty bumpy flight, landing in Dublin about 7 am Thursday morning. Neither of us had any sleep on the plane. That’s the only drawback of not having the extra exhausting hours of a layover in another city – we weren’t really tired enough to sleep through the flight. I had an Amazonian woman in front of me who reclined her seat, and spent the entire flight in my lap, continually trying to recline further.

The airport in Dublin is pretty primitive, compared to Shannon. There is a walk of about 15 minutes to clear customs, including steps up without an escalator. We collected our bags, got our hire car (a red Fiat Bravo about which Chuck liked nothing, so we pretended it was a Red Cortina, after the Saw Doctors song) and hit the road to Merrion Square, where we were booked into the O’Callaghan Mont Clare. I liked it fine. It was sort of shabby chic, but comfortable. Breakfast was not included, and was €32, which with our current exchange rate is about $50 a day for a self-serve buffet. That’s life in the big city!

Merrion Square is full of those lovely old Georgian buildings with the colorful doors, and a big park just diagonally across from our hotel. Oscar Wilde was born in the house across the street, and there’s a statue of him lounging lazily on a rock in the park. We were just a couple of easy blocks from O’Connell Street, about a block from Trinity College in one direction, and a block from St Stephen’s Green in the other. If you can’t walk where you want to go in Dublin, you can jump on a bus or even grab a taxi. That’s tacsaí, in Irish.

I like Dublin, which is a pretty big city. It’s a European city – not really an Irish city, like Galway, or Donegal, or even Cork. But there are a few things I noticed that bear mention. Where Irish is spoken in the West, and most signs in the West are often written exclusively in Irish, I had not noticed that to be the case in Dublin before this trip. There is more more written Irish now. It is fitting, as Dublin has so much important Irish history, which is one of the reasons I wanted to be in Dublin over Easter.

When we arrived at the hotel around 9 or 9 30, an amazing thing happened. Our room was ready. Usually we have to find something to do until late afternoon. We had already planned to leave our luggage with the front desk and head out into the city. As it was, we did something we have never done. We had breakfast, and then took a nap! Usually that first day, we go until we drop. We slept until about 2, and were refreshed when we hit the streets.

We walked miles in the cool, rainy afternoon, exploring O’Connell St, the quays, Trinity, Temple Bar. At the tourist center, we bought Dublin passes, which allowed us into many Dublin area sites free of charge or at reduced rates, and unlimited bus passes for 3 days. Dinner was at Kennedy’s Pub near the hotel, where I had an excellent cream veg soup, penne pasta with wild mushrooms, and a pint of Smithwick’s. We had no trouble falling asleep on Irish time that night and getting up on Irish time the next morning.

Good Friday – 21 March
Usually we are leaving Ireland around Good Friday, but Easter fell early this year and all schedules got rearranged as a result. We wondered if we would be able to find anything open on Easter – anywhere to eat, even – but Easter wasn’t the problem. I remember, year before last, the pub in our hotel police taped the pub doors closed, in case anyone thought of having a pint on Good Friday, so I should have realized Good Friday would be the interesting day. We asked in the hotel and they said food would be served in the hotel bar, and if you showed your resident’s card, they’d even serve alcohol. This was said very quietly, as Catholics know to abstain on Good Friday, but other visitors might not have such restrictions.

Most businesses were in fact closed and shuttered, including restaurants. I didn’t see a single pub, and the city is rumored to have upwards of 800 of them, open. We found plenty to do, that aside. The day was cool, breezy, and sunny as we walked to O’Connell St. We bought tickets to take a Liffey River cruise later, then hopped a bus to Kilmainham Gaol. We had been before, on either our 1st or 2nd trip over, and it’s truly haunting. It closed its doors after its last prisoner was discharged in 1924. That last prisoner was Éamon de Valera, who later became independent Ireland’s 3rd president. Kilmainham housed generations of Irish rebels in its years as a prison. It was especially poignant to take the tour at Easter, near the 92nd anniversary of the Easter Rising. The Rising failed as a rebellion, but when 14 of its leaders were executed in cold blood by the British – crosses still stand in the yard marking the spots - the people were stirred to action. What followed was a Civil War that led to independence for the 26 Republican Counties. Some places have an aura, and this is one. Little has been changed in the prison since 1924, and our guide, Conor, was a moving story teller with a feel for the people, the place, and its history.

Our Liffey cruise was at 1 45. The Liffey divides Dublin into North and South sides. Our hotel was on the South side, and it seems there’s a bit of rivalry between the sides. Paddy, who was the sort of bellhop/concierge at the hotel, told us the Dublin football team hadn’t done well because too many of the players were North Dubliners. As soon as we got on the boat, it started raining. It wasn’t a big deal, and didn’t go on long. On the cruise we saw the new Docklands area, which is not new, but is a depressed area being newly revitalized. They plan to have hundreds of offices and flats, and hope to double the population of the area. Among the new buildings is the U2 Tower, which will be the tallest building in Dublin. No one has ever been allowed to build higher than the spires of Christ Church – until U2 decided to. The cruise director told a Bono joke: What is the difference between God and Bono? God doesn’t walk around the streets of Dublin, acting like he’s Bono.

We also saw the penthouse where Colin Farrell lives – Colin Effing Farrel, as the guide says he is known in Dublin - and the current U2 recording studio at Windmill Lane.

Docked in Dublin, on the Liffey, is an exact replica of the Jennie Johnston, a famine ship that sailed numerous times between Ireland and Canada and the US. Its distinction is that it never lost a single soul on any one of its journeys. We saw the replica being built in Blennerville years ago, and now we saw it finished, quite grand, and in a place of honor.

There was an Elvery’s Sports in Dublin, and I bought a Meath jersey. The Hard Rock didn’t do St Patrick’s Day shirts this year, and they had nothing else we wanted. We had a snack there, and took a bus tour all around the city to help decide what we’d do the next day. The Guinness storehouse was closed for Good Friday, along with all the rest. We had our dinner in the hotel pub.

Saturday - 22 March
The morning dawned sunny and 40ish, and we headed to the quays along the Liffey to get a bus to Croke Park. Croke Park is the 84,000 seat Gaelic Athletic Association stadium. There they play Gaelic football, hurling, handball, and rounders. I have only seen hurling, which is wonderful fun to watch, and football. Gaelic football is not like our football. The ball is round, smaller than a soccer ball, and can be kicked over a goal post – good for 1 point - or into a net, which is worth 3 points. It can also be dribbled, and can be hit with the fist like a volleyball. The game is played without pads or helmets. The GAA is completely amateur. The players all have day jobs, and receive no pay for playing.

As we walked the lane to the stadium, an old gentleman walking a dog greeted us in Irish. When we replied in English he said, Oh, I’m speaking Irish to you – I thought you were Irish. He introduced his dog as Bran, named for one of the dogs of Finn McCool, Ireland’s giant of legend. Sceolang is the other. I believe Sceolang had passed on, and poor Bran looked very elderly himself. We had a nice chat – the old fellow talked a little about sport, and asked where in Ireland my family came from. I told him Cavan and Donegal. He asked if I knew what Donegal meant – I did – Fort of the Foreigners – and he told me Cavan means the Hollow. I had not known that. He taught me a few more Irish words, wished us well, and we went on into Croke Park.

Croke Park is now a gorgeous, state of the art stadium, but has stood since 1884, when it wasn’t so nice. Since 1884, rugby and soccer were forbidden to be played there, but they are bending that rule now, and the Irish national teams are playing there while the rugby and soccer stadium at Lansdowne Road is renovated. Lots of GAA fans aren’t happy about that. Croke Park is also the site of the 1st Bloody Sunday, in 1920, when British forces opened fire on a crowd attending a sporting event. One set of stands is named for Michael Hogan, a player killed that day.

We got to go into the players’ lounge, where the centerpiece is a very grand chandelier made of Waterford crystal. It’s made of 32 Gaelic footballs (one for each county) and hundreds of little sliotars, the hurling balls, and they change color to reflect the county colors of the All Ireland winners. The guide told us they actually claim 2 other “counties” that have GAA teams – London, and NY. We went through the area where the players warm up before matches, and sound effects were played as we walked through the tunnel to the field, letting us hear what the players hear as they enter. Pretty cool! We got to see the field from the different levels, the luxury boxes, and at the top is a viewing stand that looks out over Dublin. The spire on O’Connell St was clearly visible in the distance. Interesting thing about that spire – it stands on the spot where there used to be a statue of British Lord Nelson, which was blown up in 1966 by the IRA to commemorate the Easter Rising’s 50th anniversary. Aside from damage to Nelson, no other damage was done in the explosion. The army bomb squad then came in to remove Nelson’s remaining stump, and the controlled explosion they performed destroyed much of the surrounding area.
Of course, there was an Elvery’s on site at Croke Park with the mother lode of GAA jerseys. I got a Kilkenny and an Offaly.

We took a taxi back to the hotel to drop our stuff. The driver told us he has a second home in Spain, where there are more Irish these days than Spanish buying property. He also thinks the Good Friday pub closures will not go on much longer. The business people don’t like losing the business. He was full of interesting insights about all the new foreigners to Dublin.

After an early dinner, we went back to O’Connell to catch the Ghost Bus. It was a double decker bus, fitted out in black, with dark windows, spooky music, and a disclaimer that no children under 14 were allowed. We got off the bus and wandered inside a graveyard, and heard tales of body snatching, and went to an old leper colony with lots of grim stories. There was an insane asylum, where some of the craziest were the ones in charge. It was pretty fun! It was a nice night, so we walked a bit around Dublin, then back to the hotel to the pub.

Sunday – 23 March, Easter
Hell didn’t freeze over, but I went to Mass on Easter. Other than weddings and funerals, it was the first time I’ve been since…well, 1973. That’d be 35 years, wouldn’t it? It was a nice Catholic Church called St Andrew’s, around the corner from the hotel. The sermon was about more than faith in the grand Resurrection…rather it’s about bringing about your own resurrections of faith every day, in small ways. The priest was young, Irish, and aware that not everyone in the congregation was local. He said early on, Customarily, this is where we kneel in Ireland, but I know different countries do things differently, so everyone just do what you’re comfortable doing. It was a pleasure to listen to him for an hour. I found it interesting, however, that there were TWO collections taken up. I don’t really know why.

Easter was our last full day in Dublin – though we planned to come back the night before our flight out. It was blue and bright early, overcast and grey later. Huge brand new flags flew above all the official buildings of Dublin, smaller ones on the street corners, and on businesses. Some places were closed, but most were open after noon. We went for a stroll with lots of other people through St Stephen’s Green, which is a big park (about 1500 X 1800 ft.) full of fountains, lakes, statues and a large variety of bushes and flowers. Very pretty.

At noon, we caught the Viking “duck” tour. When we got on, there were already a few “Vikings” on board wearing Viking hats, with horns and all. I wasn’t too sad that there were none left for us. The driver explained that all of us on board were Vikings, fierce and terrifying. All others NOT on board were NOT Vikings, but Celts. He said when he gave the signal, we were to roar at the Celts. We drove all over Dublin, roaring at unsuspecting Celts. It was quite hilarious. Several times throughout the day, starting at breakfast, we saw a man dressed as Jesus, walking endlessly around Dublin, bearing a cross over his shoulder. We saw him again while on the Viking boat and I am happy to say we Vikings did not roar at Jesus on Easter Sunday. We drove overland to the Docklands area, then got in the water and floated around the Liffey for a bit. Going from land to water and back again was quite an ordeal. I remember in Boston just going from one to the other. In Ireland, we had to stop, put up the sides and roof, and all put on life vests before going in the water. The reverse was required on exiting the water. It was a very entertaining bit of silliness.

For Easter brunch, we decided on Italian. The little place called Pasta Fresca was quite good. We enjoyed a bottle of wine and warmed up, as the Viking invasion was pretty chilly. We walked to O’Connell St, where a rally commemorating the 92nd anniversary of the Easter Rising was being held in front of the General Post Office, the façade of which bears bullet holes, to this day, from the original event. We had missed the actual parade and the military flyover, but the rally was still ongoing. Gerry Adams, president of Sinn Féin, spoke, and there were honor guards and color guards, and bands. That was unexpected and very cool to be part of. While there, we saw the famous James Joyce statue across the way from the Post Office.

From Joyce to Wilde – next stop, Merrion Park, to visit old Oscar reclining on his rock. 2 pillars nearby were covered with some of his wry sayings, and local artists plied their wares along the sidewalk (footpath) outside the park.

Monday – 24 March
Well, that was fun. I do like Dublin a lot, and on foot is definitely the way to go. Monday morning we checked out, making a plan to come back and go to a football game at Croke Park with one of the girls at the desk, a rabid fan. She was delighted to know I already had a Dublin jersey. I didn’t tell her I have a dozen others, also.

We arrived across the country in Killarney about 5 pm, stopping once in Roscrea, County Tipperary, to have lunch at a carvery, and once in Adare to see the progress of Desmond Castle. Again I risked life and limb to track its restoration in photos. The end result is merely informative – the picture is nothing special. The day was grey and dull and the castle looks like a construction site. I always enjoy seeing it, though.

Wow…what a lovely place the Lake Hotel in Kerry is. It’s not in the city centre, where we haven’t stayed recently anyway, but is just a few minutes’ drive away. Our room overlooked the Lakes of Killarney, with the ruins of the castle of the McCarthy Mór in the foreground, and the Kerry Mountains behind – misty and mystical that first evening. We went into Killarney town for dinner, and then wandered down to Mac’s for dessert. Mac’s has undergone a complete transformation. It’s all black and white and silver now, mirrors and dim lights. Its days of family friendly diner are long gone, but the homemade ice cream is still mighty tasty.

Tuesday – 25 March
The day dawned bright and clear, perfect for a drive to Beara, the southernmost of the Kerry peninsulas, and my favorite. It’s southern enough that the southern half is actually considered Cork. This was probably the warmest day yet, although it may have been a simple matter of being the least windy day yet. The lakes along the way were glass smooth, and the entire county looked like a postcard. We stopped in Glengarriff to shop, hoping to find a purse to replace my Donegal tweed, with no luck. The sky began to darken, and light rain started to fall up along the top of the Healy Pass as we approached the statues depicting the Calvary scene. It didn’t rain long, but it never brightened up for the rest of the day. After we came down, we had lunch at a pub in Kenmare, before going on to Killarney town to shop. I found a green wool handbag which was made at Muckross House. Lovely. We walked to the lake, to the castle of the McCarthy Mór, and had an excellent dinner in the hotel.

Wednesday – 26 March
Another bright morning, still cool, but calm, with those big fat white clouds floating above. My shopping goal was another purse – one that I might use more for every day, rather than have to worry about destroying, as I am notoriously hard on purses – and Christmas cards. I know! In March! But lo and behold, as we pulled into Dingle Town, what do we see down near the Super Valu but a Christmas shop! I’m thinking, Divine Intervention, this. We parked and went in, and the shop, truth be told, didn’t look like a Christmas shop, but an Irish crystal shop. I didn’t have a good feeling about finding cards there, but I asked. Mary, the proprietor, didn’t seem to think it too odd a request, but explained that she was in the middle of expanding and restocking, and any cards she’d had were sent away. But Walter might have some...As we stepped out to get directions from Mary, the clouds got moody and we were standing in a rather sudden hail storm! She pulled us inside to wait it out, and stepped out with us again as it passed. Walter had the shop up the hill on the next street, with no sign, but we’d know it because it had a black gable over the door. They wouldn’t open until about 11, or whenever they decided to come downstairs. Apparently they live above.

We meandered our way to Walter’s, which was open, and full of lots of stuff tourists will buy and never have use for. Lots of Fungi the Dolphin stuff, and Kiss Me I’m Irish stuff… but Walter wasn’t there. There was a woman there, who I assume was Mrs. Walter, and I told her Mary had sent us, and what we wanted. She thought a minute, and told me she did have some, but she’d have to go find them. They were put away in a safe place, as she had meant to have them for herself, but she would look for them and I could have them. She’d need time, so she suggested we go drive the peninsula, and come back in a couple of hours.

We had lunch at Harrington’s chip shop, as usual – they deep fry Milky Ways and 3 Musketeers there, but I’ve never had the nerve – and took off for Slea Head and the Conor Pass. The weather was Irish, very changeable. There were deep blue sunny skies, drizzle, rainbows, huge puffy clouds, snow on Mt Brandon, and the Skelligs disappeared behind fog as we watched.Back in Dingle Town, Walter was in the shop, selling Dingle keychains and caps to a crowd of Americans. I said, Hi Walter! Do you know if there was any luck with the Christmas cards? He had a Tom Poston sort of look about him, cardigan and all. He said he didn’t think so, but went for Mrs. Walter, who had scared up about a dozen cards. They were very beautiful – illuminated lettering, vibrant colors, a greeting in English, and a verse in Irish – and made right there on Dingle. The sentiments were a little more religious than I generally choose, as many of our friends are nondenominational. And there were only ¼ what I need, but I bought them. Mrs Walter and Walter were delightful.

It was just 3 30, and with lots of light left this time of year, and a plan to leave the area the next day, we decided to squeeze in the Ring of Kerry. Of the 3 peninsulas, I prefer Beara and Dingle. Iveragh, the Ring, comes in third, but I’m always happy to get a chance to see it. The rain returned in earnest while we drove the Ring, and from Blennerville to Killarney, we saw 4 different rainbows.

Later that night, we stood outside overlooking the castle of the McCathy Mór, when we noticed a small herd of 3 or 4 deer just below our balcony, grazing.

Thursday – 27 March
The Tarbert Ferry, which leaves Tarbert in Kerry, and docks in Killimer, in Clare, shaves hours of driving off the trip. We were headed to Galway, and likely would not have had time or patience to stop and spend the day in Clare if we’d decided to drive. We’ve used the ferry 3 or 4 times, now. For €17, you cross with your car in about 20 minutes. The price has gone up. We had a school of dolphins swim alongside for a while.

It was a pretty cold and windy day, low 40s* not considering wind chill, but the beach at Lahinch (or Lehinch, depending on which signs you believe - Irish signs, especially in the West on the Gaeltacht, are always an adventure) was as busy as on a summer day. There were children playing on the shore, in Wellies and winter coats, and people walking dogs who were bounding in the surf. There were also dozens of surfers of all skill levels, in wetsuits. The waves were quite high, and the surfers seemed not to mind the cold or the wind! We used to go there and walk the “old prom” which was the only prom, then. It seems in recent times they have built new and trendy bars and shops in front of the “old prom” on the spot where we used to sit outside at a picnic table in the wind and have lunch bought through a chip shop window. Now you have to go away from the ocean a street or so to find it. We had lunch in Lahinch, but sat inside, because it began to rain. The surfers, already cold and wet, stayed in the water.

We drove by the Cliffs of Moher without stopping. It does sneak up on you now. The designers of the visitors’ center succeeded in camouflaging it into the side of a hill, which is better than some big granite square, but it is so sterile now. The walk to the cliffs is like a widened EU road. I’m waiting for them to put iron guard rails along the cliffs themselves. There is a Darwinian aspect to those cliffs, just like the cliffs at Dún Aengus on Inis Mór. Just don’t get too close to the edge. That’s the secret. Whatever wondrous spiritual beings inhabited the Cliffs of Moher all these millennia have now departed.

It was about 4 when we hit Furbo - Na Forbacha, in Irish – and checked into The Connemara Coast Hotel, situated on Galway Bay, as the name states, along the Connemara Coast. We had a view of the bay, and a rocky beach, though there was a tennis court in between. Sometimes cows grazed inside a stone fence near the beach. It was quite pretty, but nothing dramatic like Killarney. We had an excellent meal at the hotel, and walked along the footpath by the bay.

Friday – 28 March
From Furbo, we took the coast road up to Westport, County Mayo. It was raining softly, but the town is still such a pretty little place I didn’t mind too much. We usually bring umbrellas, and rarely need them, but we forgot this time, and could have used them. We just put up the rain jacket hoods. Of course we checked out the Elvery’s in Westport, where they had a hoody Chuck wanted, but not in the right size. One of the girls checked, and found the Elvery’s in Castlebar had the right size. Castlebar is a good sized town about 20 minutes nw of Westport, in Mayo. We got the Mayo hoody, and got on the N17 to Tuam, back in Galway. This was just the beginning. Before the day was over, the Elvery’s in Tuam sent us to the Elvery’s in Claremorris, back up the N17 the way we’d come, into Mayo…well, you get the idea. More new football jerseys, in addition to the hoody.

Finally, we ended up in Tuam, where the sign in the square tells us among the famous Tuam people are The Sawdoctors (all one word) who are a local band who have had considerable success in Ireland, the US, and the UK. We had fun seeing how many song references we could find. The N17 - the Galway to Sligo road - of course. They sing the “grey stone cathedral’s spires are dwarfed by a tall metal tower in the sky” and indeed they are, by a cell tower. In front of the Tuam Cathedral is the broken cart wheel of St Jarlath.
We had tea at the Palace. We didn’t go in, but big as life there were The Thatch, and The Brogue. We never did find The Rustic Vaults. There are many other things over the course of other trips, like The Green and Red of Mayo, and Clare Island. And we sang more than once, Oh God, Will It Ever Stop Raining? It was fun to stop in, after all the times we’ve driven through, and see the home of The Saw Doctors, and all the things they sing about.

Back in Furbo, it was pouring, and we had dinner at a very good bistro called Pádraicín’s, right on Galway Bay.

Saturday – 29 March
It was very cold, and rained on and off all day. We started out late, as it was one of those lay around and listen to the rain lazy mornings. We went south to Clare, always beautiful in grey weather, which seems to complement its stony landscape. We asked a local man how to get to Caherconnell, which is a well preserved stone fort probably inhabited as long ago as 400 AD. He said, Never heard of it! And because it is the Irish way, he asked everyone else he knew about it. No one had heard of it. So we drove around the Burren with the little map on the brochure, and found it. The girl at the desk laughed and said, The locals have no idea we’re here. Just as we started our self guided tour, the rains came with a vengeance. We gave it the best we could before giving up, going in the visitors’ center, and enjoying hot drinks until it passed. We drove around the Burren, in search of another fort we never found, but we did find the birthplace of Michael Cusack (Mícheál Ó Ciosóg) who was the founder of the GAA. Refer to 22 March for a refresher on the GAA. I say, yay Mícheál!
And we stopped at the Poulnabrone Dolmen.

We took the coast road to Doolin, and on up to Galway and Furbo. Through the day, we’d seen 5 rainbows. Right outside Pádraicín’s, where we had dinner, there was a double rainbow over Galway Bay.

Sunday – 30 March
As if once was not enough already, Ireland’s clocks sprang forward sometime while we slept. The Daylight Saving Time makes no sense anymore, and here we were doing it twice. At least we got that hour back on the return trip.

What a nice day this was. Still cool, about 45*, but mild winds and sun, with big puffy clouds in a blue sky. The ultimate goal was Minaun Heights on Achill Island, but we went to Mayo along the coast road. We didn’t see Peter O’Toole in Clifden, again, though I always look for him! Leenane was as hauntingly beautiful as ever. They are still doing road work in the village, and progress looks like exactly at the point it was last year. The whole village was closed, as we passed through around noon, and I guess the village and the shop owners were at church yet. Or maybe there are some places that still stay closed on Sunday!

There was no one at Kylemore Abbey in Letterfrack. We pretty much had the place to ourselves. I thought they might have Christmas cards there, but they said they never carried them this past year. Chuck bought me gorgeous earrings – a brushed silver strip of ribbon sort of design with a small gold trinity knot in the center – and a silver St Brigid’s Cross necklace at Kylemore.

Minaun Heights, or Minaun Cliffs, the high point of Achill Island, was cold, but not as cold as it is sometimes. There was no rain, but it was hazy, not as clear as I’d hoped. Keel Beach, far below, blends into a palette of all my favorite colors – The blue sky, turquoise water, brown beach, green fields and mountains, and white clouds all around. Achill Island looks like it is becoming a resort area, and I guess that shouldn’t surprise me.

Monday - 31 March
Next stop Donegal. There are a lot of reasons to stop on the way up. Going through Sligo, we turned off at Knock, the shrine where Mary appeared with St Joseph and St John back in 1879. Guess what I found there? Christmas cards! One of the lovely little nuns came out of the back with a box full and let me have at. They are really a bit more religious than you see around here, but there are enough of the toned down ones that I will be able to pick and choose for certain folks. The Yeats place just past Drumcliff, where we usually eat, was under renovation, as it seems all of Ireland is, but we stopped and had a bite there anyway.

Originally, we thought about staying over in the North these last days, maybe in Belfast, but the dollar to pound ratio, along with a lack of clear direction discouraged us and we decided to stay in Letterkenny, and go back and forth. We stopped at the Letterkenny Elvery’s and declared its selection extremely wanting. Nothing for us.

After we checked into the Radisson, around 5, it was too late to head off very far, and too early for dinner. The hotel local attractions listed a place I had never heard of, Beltany Stone Circle. We had to drive about 10 minutes away to a town called Raphoe, and down a lane. At its end was some sort of government facility behind gates, and on either side, dairy farms. Between the facility and one of the farms was a likely looking path, so up we went. The climb was steadily steep, and muddy, with a canopy of huge trees overhead. Halfway up a boy on a pony appeared, and told us the Circle was up a little farther, through a sheep gate, and across the field. After quite a bracing walk up, we found the sheep gate, and began to cross the field. It’s probably not a coincidence that the hill is named Tops Hill. It was like being at the top of the world. We could see much of Donegal and Derry below us, the fields spread out in neat parcels of green, separated by straight stone walls, and dotted with fat white sheep. Out of the shelter of the trees, the wind was fierce, stinging skin and bringing tears to my eyes, but the light was lovely. The sun was just about to set. And there was the stone circle.

Beltany is dated back to about the year 800-1400 BC, and 64 of the stones still stand after these thousands of years. The name Beltany suggests that the pagan festival of Beltane, or Bealtaine, was celebrated on the site. Beltane, the Irish word for May, is the Celtic festival of spring, welcoming in the sun, the warmth, crops, all that, after the long winter. There is often an otherworldly, mystical feeling to some of these old places, especially the passage tombs. There is debate as to whether Beltany is a passage tomb, but it assuredly radiates an aura. Outside the sheep gate, on the path’s other side, was a wooded area with straight rows of magnificent evergreens. I’m sure Druids are still living in those woods.

When we came down from Tops Hill, the town of Letterkenny was pretty much closed down. We picked up some take away, went back to the hotel, and ate in the room. It was a nice change from being on best behavior for weeks!

Footnote to the Raphoe story- a couple of days later, the news was full of 3 dissident IRA men being arrested and a bomb making factory discovered in the woods of Raphoe. We decided it must have been the Druid woods, and the kid on the pony was really a lookout.

Tuesday – 1 April
This was the coldest day of the trip, grey, overcast, and very windy – we even saw a few snow flurries! We headed south toward the Blue Stack Mountains, with a stop in Donegal Town to buy a present for Hanna, and to check out the Donegal Town Elvery’s. Success for Hanna, but another dud of an Elvery’s.

The roads through the Blue Stack, and indeed through much of rural Donegal, have speed limits posted at 80 kph, which is nearly 50 mph. Some are even 100 kph, which is 60 mph. These roads would be maximum 15 mph here. They are full of hairpin turns and dips that could swallow a car. Chuck was doing about half what was allowed and we were bouncing all over the car, in tears of hysteria. It was like being a kid on a roller coaster. I don’t know why it seemed so funny that day – it isn’t an unusual occurrence in Ireland!

We continued north through the Derryveagh Mountains to Creeslough, to Doe Castle, the seat of the MacSweeney family built in the 16th century. We have never been able to go to Doe Castle. It was under renovation for a few years, and closed once for a Sweeney family reunion. It didn’t appear to be open this day, but at least we weren’t stopped at a gate and sent away. When we drove up to it, no other cars or people were in sight anywhere, but a crazy Irish sheep dog greeted us by lifting his leg on our car tire, then falling into step beside us as we walked to the castle. He was friendly as long as we stayed on the path, but it agitated him when we ventured onto the grass to check out the sides and rear of the castle. He stood on the path and barked at us until we came back. Then he walked us to the car, and went ahead to wait for us to pull out of the car park, so he could bark and chase. They’re all crazy, these dogs. As for the castle, it looked great from the outside!

From Creeslough, we went up to Fanad Head, to the lighthouse. The wind was so strong up there, all my pictures look shaky. There is no barrier against the wind up there. We came back to Letterkenny through Rathmelton and Lennon, where some years ago the locals invited us to join in their annual parade, and had dinner in a pub.

Wednesday – 2 April
The only time we’ve been to Northern Ireland to visit, as opposed to just passing through to shorten a journey, was a few years back when we went to the Giant’s Causeway. The Causeway was spectacular, but the trip left a little bit of a bad impression on me, and no real desire to go back over. The first time we went through was 1997, before the truce and ceasefire, in the middle of the night. We’d left a concert in Ballybofey around midnight, and had to be in Dublin to catch a 6 am flight. The only way to do that was to cut through the North. There was barbed wire everywhere then, armed guards in towers, check points…it was grey and military looking, as most occupied places look, compared to the open green of the Republic. That drive never quite left my memory, even as tensions have eased.

The trip to the Giant’s Causeway a few years ago left a bad feeling because they wouldn’t accept euros, even though areas around the border inside the Republic take Sterling, just as a courtesy. But it isn’t one extended both ways. We only needed 50 pence to ride a bus down to the Causeway, and I ended up having to exchange $20 to get it. (I didn’t want to spend my euros!) I also HATE seeing Union Jacks flying in Ireland. It just looks wrong.

The Derry and Antrim coastlines are beautiful, of course, and very Irish. It used to be much easier to tell you were in the North, because the roads were so much better, but thanks to the EU, Irish roads are as good or better in many cases. It’s funny how many times we found ourselves talking as if it were 2 separate countries, when it isn’t. We stopped at Dunluce Castle, but not at the Giant’s Causeway.

We saw signs for a ferry to the Republic, so we took a look, learning that it left from a grim and scary place called Magilligan Point in Derry and crossed to Greencastle on the Inishowen Peninsula. The road to Magilligan Point took about 6 minutes to drive and was lined on either side with barbed wire, and high walls. On one side was obviously a prison of vast proportion, and both sides had signs warning stay away because it was a firing range. There were hundreds of huge jack rabbits living in the grassy areas on either side of the road. It was surreal. When we got to the ferry loading area, a nice man who seemed to hate his job made us open the trunk, and he looked under the car with mirrors. I guess people are still nervous, or we looked like terrorists. The ferry only held about 10 cars, and there were about 6 of us on. The fog was so thick that the Irish coast disappeared as we watched, but in a few minutes we were safely docked.

On Inishowen we went to Malin Head, and it was typically freezing and windy. It is even in summer. We didn’t stay long, but went off in search of Mamore Gap, which is always in the same place, but doesn’t seem to be. The statue of Padre Pio has a new sort of stone shelter. It’s pretty elaborate! After a cup of tea in Malin Town, we headed back to Letterkenny, and about 7 pm, the sun finally came out.Thursday – 3 April
Our last full day in Ireland. Since we were leaving out of Dublin, and fairly early, we planned to drive down and spend the night near the airport. We took our time, as it was a bright blue day, and quite warm, driving the NI coast. Derry and Antrim were full of waterfalls, and in the sun everything was so green and shiny. In Derry, we found ourselves in the middle of the third funeral of the trip. There are always several. One was in Cork – the parked cars stretching half a mile in either direction, and the mourners all walking from the cars to the church, which was not big enough to hold most of them, it appeared. Men were trying to direct traffic around the walkers. Another was in Galway, and we just had to wait for the procession to pass. The one in Derry was all on foot, in the middle of the road, with the hearse leading the way, but the casket being carried behind by pall bearers. Cars just stopped wherever they stopped and waited. It’s so very different than the detached way we do it here.

In Antrim we found a ruined castle built down on the water, out on a narrow spit of land called Kinbane Head, not visible from the road. Also in Antrim is a really beautiful area called Glenariff. Vista after vista, and a big Forest Park known for even more waterfalls. We had lunch in Carrickfergus, and passed by Belfast on the way down to Dublin. Belfast has worse traffic than Dublin has ever dreamed of having. If we ever decide to go on and stay in Belfast, there will not be driving involved.

It was still blue and pretty when we got to Dublin, so we stopped at Malahide Castle and took some pictures. It was closed for the day, but the grounds were full of people enjoying the warm day. It hit about 60*.

Friday – 4 April
Leaving is the hardest thing. But leave we did, on St Colmcille. We had put 2146.4 miles on the old “Red Cortina” across Ireland. That’s not near a record, but we must factor in not driving the 1st four days in Dublin. The plane ride was terrifying, with the plane falling nose first several times due to turbulence over Maine.

It was nice to come home. Chuck and Hanna picked us up at the airport, and I realize as much as I would love to live in Ireland, I would miss them too much.

But every trip to Ireland, for me, is another homecoming, too. I learn more, and absorb more with each trip. I wonder about all the construction…the wider roads, the big subdivisions full of ugly houses SO far away from anything. There aren’t jobs for these folks, so they have to commute on the new wide roads. It’s so easy to see the problems they will face in a few years, especially as their economy is slowing, and the EU will only bail them out so far.

I also noticed so many things closed for renovation – Pádraig Pearse’s school in Dublin, and in Galway, his home. Both Dalkey and Drimoleague Castles, in Dublin were being restored.

I wonder if the influx of foreigners will change Ireland, or if Ireland will change the foreigners, as it has every other group that’s landed on its shores since the Dawn of Time. They still close up on Good Friday, and ring the Angelus on TV and radio, and I noticed more Irish language signage in places like Dublin this time – and even a remarkable amount in Antrim in the North – not just in the West. There is still enormous pride in being Irish, in spite of the desire to be European.

Change is inevitable, but change is not always progress.

Here’s to Ireland!

Slán agat!

All photos by Judi