Tuesday, September 11: Gaels of laughter
Tuesday, September 11
Our first stop before we left Cahir had to be for fuel, so I pulled into an Esso station where a quick little man came out to fill the tank. As he bent over the pump handle, he said, what sounded vaguely like “Dittabitta nippindaray.” I smiled incomprehensively, and replied, “Pardon me?” He repeated the phrase, only this time it was closer to “Derz abitta nippinday ray”. I was about to tell him that I don’t speak Gaelic, and then I got it, and agreed with a smile. We paid up (EU$1.70 per liter – C$2.20) and were on our way.
The hour and a half trip into Dublin was uneventful, except for one directional sign as we entered the Dublin Airport area where we needed to return our Budget rental Skoda. All road signage in Ireland is in Gaelic, followed by English, though I think that few Irish actually speak Gaelic. This sign at the airport pointed to three areas: the first was to “Landa”, or something beginning with an “L”, meaning “Cargo”, the second I didn’t really notice, but the third really caught my eye – “Marbhlann” – and the translation was “Mortuary”! The thoughts raced through my mind…”How many pass through there? Or, do folks just pass on there? And, is it ‘Arrivals’, or ‘Departures’??? It was mind-boggling, and I left it unresolved.
We had a fun reunion with the Padghams at the hotel, then we all caught the Express bus into Dublin where we killed the afternoon, had a wonderful supper, and then caught the Express bus back to our hotel. Now THIS was experience! We all sat in a row at the front of the upper deck of the bus, and oohed and aahed, and gasped as the bus driver roared through Dublin traffic, weaving in an out, and always missing, but only by centimeters, other buses, running pedestrians, lamp standards, and cars. Bob compared it to the Wild Mouse ride at the PNE, and I concurred.
The day ended much as it had begin – with much lowered temperatures – and yes, I had noticed that “Dere was a bit of a nip in de air!”
And that, is the way it was – in Ireland! Slainte!
Et, demain, nous departons pour la France! Santé!
Monday, September 10: We DO Cahir
After a wonderful breakfast at Davitts, (we’re talking about FRUIT + the usual cereals and Irish Breakfast offerings) we mosied out of Kenmare. The original plan was to cut across the Bearas Peninsula, but several considerations made us change our minds:
1. We had seen enough mountain passes for the moment;
2. It was extremely blustery and wet;
3. Sandy’s tolerance of narrow roads and blind corners had been severally tested.
We opted, instead to head towards Cork, and then to Kinsale, on the coast south of Cork. Great choice! We were both much more relaxed, and both enjoying the marvelous country-side scenery – until we hit a “Diversion” (i.e. detour) south of Cork. The diversion took us on a windy, twisted and narrow road to Kinsale. I loved the drive! (Not all of the two of us did!)
Kinsale is a spectacularly beautiful little seaside town with twisty streets, and some wonderful little cafes and bakeshops. Just as I had predicted, when we arrived, the showers ended and the sun came out.
After a masterful (if I do say so myself) parking job (on the left, of course, though it seems to make little difference in Ireland – park on either side, facing whichever way you want!) in a tiny little space equal to the length of the Skoda plus a bit, we headed off walking around town for an hour watching for more showers. We lunched in a tiny cafe – while joining into an engaging conversation with Fiona, a bank manager from a mining town in the Outback of Australia. Then, just as showers found us again, we headed off for our destination of Cahir (pronounced “Care”). No particular reason for this choice except that it was on the road towards Dublin which we could easily reach by noon on Tuesday, and it had an intact castle which looked interesting.
After hitting a Tourism office in the late afternoon, we headed across the moat, er river and into the castle. What a surprise! It was, indeed an intact castle – with no required guides, and fully self-exploratory! (Did I just make up that word?) We wandered into dining halls, down into dungeon areas, up to the ramparts, into castle keeps, and so on. Amazing! A video presentation showed us the history, including a 17th century siege by the Earl of Essex. At closing, we headed off down a 2 km hike to a Swiss Cottage, where the last castle owner had opted to live instead of in the castle. (Good choice!)
Alas, it was closed, so we located a spot where I could take a photo, and we headed back to our lodgings – the Tinsley House B&B – an old house built in 1840, and now owned by Liam, a descendant of the original family. A toilet which howled was the only drawback – to other tenants!
Sunday, September 9: Avoiding wet – in Muckross
Over more hills and through more vales from Dingle to Killarny,, and then to Kinmare.
‘Twas a blustery day, Poo! Cold winds and rain prevented any exploration Inch beach, but the drive to Killarny was pleasant enough. We decided to go south through Killarney National Park, where we stopped at Muckross House and did the tour. Think “Upstairs, Downstairs” or “Downton Abbey”. It was beautiful, and got us out of the misty, drizzly wet.
Then, the road to Kenmare created more tensions until we landed at Davitts B&B in downtown Kenmare. The room is the same price as all the others (EU$35 per person), but it is one of the nicest rooms that we have stayed in – ever!
And that, is the way it was!
Saturday, September 8: Dingle belles
The next morning, Saturday, we decided that both couples would go separate ways.. Sandy and I headed out to Brandon Point, down an extremely narrow lane road where the posted speed limit was still 80 kmh. The Point was a spectacular cliff with a brisk wind blowing and the skies clear. Great views over the islands. Next, we tackled the mountainous climb over the Dingle Peninsula (Connor Pass) to the town of Dingle. There were spectacular views over the climb, and more of the tight squeezes on the road, but the traffic moved slower, and buses weren’t allowed.
We stretched our legs and then did the circle tour around the Coastal road, where we stopped for lunch and paid to visit an ancient fort – in existence for over 2000 years. Back at Dingle a few hours later, we wandered through town before we settled on a B&B – Murphy’s Bar. We walked off our supper, and then went back to Murphy’s in time to get bar seats for the evening’s musical group: Tincean. The sound was like the Irish Rovers, but the themes were more political and historical. It was a marvelous 2 hours of wild music.
Early in the 2 hour set, an elderly (well, he was older than me, I think) sat beside me and started to chat with me. For a while, I thought he was speaking Gaelic, but then I realized that I was hearing some English words, so I really concentrated on trying to follow. Apparently his daughter was getting married and she and her friends were coming to the bar for a “hen party”. And, soon they did! The bride-to-be had had way too much, but that didn’t slow her down until gravity lowered her eye-level to the floor after an impromptu dance on a table. Thankfully, daddy had left earlier, and equally lucky was that the belle of the bar was not injured on flying furniture nor broken glass. And the band played on!!!
I bought the band’s CD!
Friday, September 7: Off to Camp (i.e. Camp, Ireland
I slept well; the others did not. Furthermore, the fine weather had ended and a misty rain and fog enveloped us.
The main reason for being in Doolin was to see the Cliffs of Moher, and with the poor visibility, unless you stepped off a cliff, you wouldn’t see it, so we gave the cliffs a pass and headed for the town of Camp west of Tralee, with Sandy and I taking the windy coastal route and the Padghams going through Ennis. We met up again at the Shannon River Ferry at Killiner. Fitzgeralds Pub was recommended for supper by a fellow ferry passenger. So when we stopped there, we latched onto the B&B right across the road – Camp Junction House, where we found a friendly host “John” and a beautiful home with a great view of the mouth of the Shannon River.
A walk on the beach, and a refreshing drink in a tiny pub managed by a Leprechaun, who also happened to own several Beetles – pre-1975!
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