Ireland


24
Jun 13

The Ring of Kerry, from Kenmare to Dingle

This was breakfast at Virginia’s Guesthouse this morning. Breakfast is the signature of the place.

Breakfast is what we do best at Virginia’s. Noreen is a dedicated “Foodie” and loves to cook. Therefore our varied breakfast menu is constantly changing from season to season, offering only the very best of produce and featuring lots of creative and personalised dishes, as well as the standard Full Irish Breakfast … Noreen’s signature dish is her award-winning “Blue Cheese, Pears & Bacon”.

Turns out the blue cheese on this plate came from the cows we heard mooing at the Rock of Cashel yesterday. They were just telling us we had something to look forward to.

I’d mentioned the narrow roads. This is common. If you convert this, that’s 50 miles per hour. You’ve no idea …

Today was a big driving day. This is our basic route:

The peninsula has several deep glacial lakes. People tend to bypass these if they aren’t careful, but they are peaceful and can offer some great views:

Here’s a brief video from there:

Ah, the old head-on-a-wall joke …

When was the last time you were at a glacial lake?

Evidence! I have it! She started the making-faces game!

We took several of these photos. My eyes are closed in all of them. Uncanny.

She’s showing off her ring, awww.

And now for some potty humor. We stopped at the Parknasilla Resort. The original place here dates back to the 18th century, and once included the Derryquin Castle, which was burned in 1922 by the IRA. The rest of Parknasilla’s history is … complex … and references Noah.

Anyway, I don’t think I’ve ever said this before, but you have to check out the bathrooms:

What was that logo?

Check out the handle.

Enough of that. Just outside of Parknasilla everything feels magical:

But then everything does here, even an hour in the car. You get great treats along the way:

There are wide spots designed for you to pull over every so often. Take advantage of them. Linger.

Or you could be like the typical tourist and hop out, snap a picture and then immediately pile back into the car. Be sure to take your time.

If you don’t you’ll miss a lot of little delights.

Our next stop on the Ring of Kerry was Staigue Fort. You turn off a country road and drive up what amounts to the loneliest private driveway in the world. There are two houses in this valley, and if not for the occasional tourist it would be the sleepiest place you’ve ever imagined.

Rick Steeves’ guidebook calls this a desolate high valley, but I disagree. This place has a lot going for it. Check out these next several shots before I finally show you the fort.

Staigue Fort is believed to date between 300 and 400 AD. It was a defensive fortification, a cultural center and perhaps had some religious significance. The walls are 18 feet high in places and almost as thick at the bottom. It is about 90 feet in diameter. There is no mortar, just stacks of stones, and is thus considered an impressive historical effort of engineering.

If you were standing where I am when taking this picture, you’d be surrounded by hilly terrain on three sides. Over my left shoulder, and down a long chute of this valley, is the sea. No one snuck up on Staigue.

And now to show you how quickly the light changes here, and to give you a slightly different view of the fort, here’s a 360-degree effort I shot on Photosynth. See how parts of the shot are over or under exposed as you move around in it? Cloud, sun, cloud, darker cloud, sun. The sky is very dramatic here:

Later we discovered, almost by accident and visited purely on impulse, the local Skelligs Chocolate factory. They give you samples, and it is delicious:

The next stop is “the best view in County Kerry” just outside of Portmagee. Check out these views:

Of course there is a video. It is the sort of place you could loiter at for a long time, after all.

A few animals we passed on our walk up to that view. There were horses and sheep, too.

And then we visited Cahergall Stone Fort. Some of this is still original, though the upper parts are a historical reconstruction. The sign says “It is likely that somebody of importance lived here about 1,000 years ago.” All of this must be frustrating for historians and archeologists. Some of these forts go back 2,500 years after all. Here’s The Yankee climbing the steps on the inside wall:

Adam demonstrates the height of this fort:

We arrived at Dingle, checked into our bed and breakfast — Eileen Collins’ Kirrary House and ventured out for dinner at John Benny’s Pub, I had a hearty, delicious beef pie. These guys were playing, and you can hear one of their songs in the slideshow below.

We had ice cream at the famous Murphy’s. I was not previously aware that an ice cream shop could be famous, but USA Today called it one of the best in the world. It was good.

Tomorrow we’re riding bikes.


23
Jun 13

The Rock of Cashel, from Kilkenny to Kenmare

You order the full Irish breakfast, you get the full Irish breakfast. Throw in some museli and then proclaim this the best bed and breakfast ever. And maybe it is. Irish sausage, also, is better than anything we have at home.

You see a lot of old stone buildings just sitting roadside here. Some of them are important, some are just old structures. Most of them don’t even have signs or notations on a map. They just are. That’s how old the place is, a few hundred years is nothing, and it could just be the place an old angry person lived for all you know.

Today we visited the Rock of Cashel. This was where the kings of Munster ruled for 600 years, from the 4th century to 1101, when it was given to the church. This is the view as you drive up:

Inside you see St. Patrick’s Cross, built in the 12th century in the Latin style. One side has a carving meant to depict the crucifixion, the other side has an abbot, possibly St. Patrick himself. The base of the cross is hollow and is believed to have been a storage and hiding place for valuables:

Here are a few of the artifacts they’ve discovered at the Rock, and dated back to the 12th century:

There is a cemetery at the Rock, still active. The local authorities tried to close it in the early 20th century, but the community decided to have a lottery and that allowed for a few more spaces for the residents and their children. Our tour guide said there are four or five people of that generation still living.

If you look off in the distance behind her you might just notice a chunk of rock missing from the mountain on the right. Local lore is that the devil was flying over Ireland, took a bite out of that mountain and dropped it here, forming the rock upon which the church sits.

This is the north transept, and, in the top left corner, the round tower. The north transept contains late medieval tombs and grave slabs.

Here’s The Yankee outside the north transept, with that round tower in the background:

A wider shot, looking from the west. There is scaffolding covering the east side as they slowly work to renovate the structure.

We heard cows mooing in the pastures down below us:

The weather changed from cold to windy to raining to sunny to warm all while we were at the Rock. Crazy weather.

See those holes in the walls? That’s how they built the building. They’d get to a certain level and then put a large piece of wood there and build around it. Then they’d cut the wood out and remove their middle aged scaffolding.

This is inside Cormac’s Chapel, a small Romanesque church that was was consecrated in 1134 and named for King Cormac. This is looking at the archway just in front of the altar:

The frescoes in Cormac’s Chapel, such as they are, are the oldest Romanesque wall paintings in Ireland. The earliest are dated to around the church’s building, so circa 1134, and have a simple masonry pattern. The later paintings, thought to date back to between 1160-70, are narrative scenes, including the Nativity. Scholars believe outside artists, perhaps from England or France, were brought in for the work. They were covered with whitewash during the 16th century Reformation and remained hidden until the 1980s. The lime used in the whitewash wiped out the rest.

That red patina comes from only one place in the world: Afghanistan. The church was spending some money to get the ingredients shipped all the way to Ireland.

This is standing under the altar’s archway and looking back into the church. It is a small facility, thought to have been used by Benedictine monks:

Looking into the altar itself, you can’t quite make out the apse vault. But you can see more of those heads carved into the arch. The thought is that they were used to ward off evil spirits from invading the altar.

The interior and exterior views of that transept:

I like to get artsy with doorways sometimes:

Two of the markers in the cemetery:

This is a view from the east side. I’ve cropped out all of the aluminium scaffolding, which is off the left margin. The Rock of Cashel is on a rocky plateau that rises 300 feet above the surrounding plain known as the Golden Vale of Tipperary.

Just off the plateau you can see the Hore Abbey, a Cistercian monastery. This dates back to the mid-13th century:

Changing it up a bit here. I took a lot of shots in the car as we drove around today. Here are two of them. After that, you’ll see a little video montage of the rest of more.

And this is Kenmare, where we checked into Virginia’s Guesthouse.

Downtown looks like this:

We had dinner at Foley’s Restaurant. The live music in the video above is from the performers we heard tonight. If you’re interested in our route today, it looked something like this:

A lot more tomorrow!


22
Jun 13

Heading out to Kilkenny

We’re driving on the left again. And you would not believe these roads.

They are of good quality. And, thankfully, empty as we are taking some scenic, rural routes. But these are narrow, one-lane strips of asphalt and the speed limits reach 100 kilometers per hour. Imagine, maybe, the width of a really wide parking space at home. Drive 60 miles per hour on something like that with brush and stone fences on either side of you.

I think this smile was forced:

Ren

But we are on the road. And by we I mean our friend Adam, who I met several years ago while writing a feature story on a World War II relative of his.

Adam

And his brand new fiance, Jessica. They just got engaged yesterday. And now she has to put up with us on a road trip she knows nothing about. This was all sprung on her. She has patience and a good sense of humor. We’ll see how long we can test those.

Jessica

Fun people, fine friends. We’re glad there here.

Here’s our route today:

We’re seeing sights like these. Scroll down through the next several images. We’ll get some more words in here eventually. These are just shots I took out of the window as we drove from Enniskerry to Kilkenny today. I’m told the views only get better.

Ireland

Ireland

Ireland

Ireland

Ireland

We checked into our Bed & Breakfast in Kilkenny, which is a town of about 24,000 people when you count the outlying folks. The name derives from the Irish meaning “church of Cainnech.” And Cainnech is Saint Cainnech, of Aghaboe, a 6th century Gaelic abbot, priest and missionary also known as Kenneth or Kenny two or three other names, depending on where you were standing. He is considered one of the Twelve Apostles of Ireland.

Kilkenny was originally the name of the church and the surrounding area later took on the name. The story goes — and it is one of those tales of the time that has a lot of telling and re-telling, so it might not be the most completely accurate, but close nevertheless — that in 597, Cainnech led a Christian army here to wipe out the last of the Druids. This was one of the last parts of Ireland to be converted to Christianity.

A tour was full. A music tour had ceased operation. We were really just winging it tonight anyway.

We ate here this evening, a family-owned joint since 1904. There was a sign of live music, but no actual live music. What to do?

“Get drunk with us,” said the bartender, overhearing our conversation. That wasn’t really on the agenda.

We did eat there. Here was the Irish stew I ordered for dinner. And while there isn’t normally a lot of food on this site — because food photographs just aren’t as interesting as the photographer thinks — I just wanted to tell you how delicious Irish stew is:

Do these look like the faces of two people who just got engaged?

There. That’s better. Our friends are funny, and they’re always blaming one another, in jest, for whatever the most immediate transgression happens to be. It is amusing to sort out the real story. Usually I pick the person who says the least.

We went down the street a way to Kyteler’s Inn, to hear some music. This was the house of Dame Alice Kyteler, a member of a prominent local banking family. She was charged with witchcraft, heresy and suspected in poisoning a few of her husbands in 1323. She’s believed to be the subject of the earliest witchcraft accusations in Ireland. She skipped town, fleeing presumably to England, where she disappeared from history. One of her servants was not so lucky; she was flogged and burned at the stake in 1324.

Happier days today, though. I saw this sign and note it here only to point out that I’m going to look them up, tell them I’m back and demand my cut of the empire. Never mind that I’m not Irish.

We met some nice guys tonight. They were from the outlying areas and had come to town for a bachelor party. Here’s the most normal of the bunch.

This guy has a counterpart in every bar and pub in the world, I’d bet. In your personal space, flirting with the ladies, starting out funny stories that somehow lose their oomph midway through.

But he introduced us to all these guys, including this one, who seemed a bit out of place.

And this guy. He was the priest. He was also coordinating the night’s entertainment. That’s what we were told. We learned he wasn’t a priest, but the story is better that way. It allowed one of the other guys to say “Welcome to Ireland.”

And right about then a guy in a bikini showed up. Presumably the night’s entertainment. Thankfully the music was starting so …

I did not know there were Carnegie Libraries in other parts of the world. Also, I took this photograph at 9:30 at night. We still had an hour of daylight left.


21
Jun 13

Welcome to Ireland

Our plane left Heathrow late, after a long run. We ran. Because, you see, the flight attendant announced “Gate 8 E.” We went to this gate. Fifteen minutes before the flight was to leave there were no airline employees, no passengers and no planes.

We were on the only terminal in the free world without departure screens, too. So I walked down aways and found horrifying information. Our flight was actually departing from Gate 80.

English.

So we ran. And then we got on board. I thoroughly made a big show of the entire ordeal. And the plan was late.

But we arrived on time in a funny-how-that-happens way. We landed in Dublin, in what felt like the oldest terminal in the free world. It had screens with departure and arrival times.

We made it through customs, The Yankee going first as always. She answered the questions and I was next. I said to the border agent “Same things she said,” which amused everyone except the weary man working in his weary both.

We got our stamps, though, and then picked up our rental car, a process just as thoroughly devoid of joy and efficiency in every country, it seems. We set out, once again questioning the ability of the GPS to get her there.

It was about here, I think, that we finally changed the GPS voice. We’ve been using an Aussie. We looked for an Irish brogue, but had to settle on an English woman. So the GPS, given to this new personality, must be renamed. I’m sure we’ll figure that out soon enough.

We drive around Dublin on the interstate, which feels new, through countryside that is beautifully rural and undeveloped despite being so very near the city proper. It felt like we drove around the entire city. Mostly because we almost did.

We arrived at our hotel and got checked in. Hey look, this hotel has a television in the bathroom:

Mirror

Who needs that? Who cares? I have a television in my bathroom.

We went to visit our friends, Adam and Jessica, who are joining us on the trip. Only Jessica didn’t know it. Just a few hours before they’d gotten engaged at a picnic in the gardens of Enniskerry, now they have to have us tag along. She was excited to see us though, so that, happily, went over well.

After a while we looked up, saw the sun and realized it was 9 p.m. And we still had to find dinner. Everything in Enniskerry is closed already. There is a pub in our hotel. Their kitchen had just shut down. But the waiter brought us a room service menu, and four sleepy, hungry people were saved.

Two guys were getting ready to play music a few booths away. We’ve been in Ireland three hours and there’s already a pub, a burger and Irish music.

After a few songs one of the patrons asks “Is it too early for Whiskey in the Jar?” It is never too early for Whiskey in the Jar.

They were fine performers, despite my too-dark photograph and hasty iPhone recording. It was a delicious burger. Our friends, who just flew over from the States today, are happy and exhausted. Tomorrow we set out to drive the bulk of the entire countryside.

For now I’m going to go watch weird Germany game shows. On the television in my bathroom.