My Ireland Trip

Wednesday, August 15, 2007 After another restful sleep, I was ready for the day but it seemed Mother Nature was not in an amiable mood, covering Ireland with rain clouds and high winds. As the wind blew through the trees outside my window, it occurred to me that perhaps my sound sleep was attributed to having these green giants nearby. Having been in Ireland for almost three months, it felt good to have the wonderful deciduous trees around to cleanse the air. The small amount of trees on the Emerald Island made me homesick for the abundance of the Evergreen State, which was almost like missing an old friend.

Since it seemed that a run on the Dingle Peninsula would not be an option today, I decided to head into Killarney to upload the previous day’s data and figure out what to do from there. After breakfast I finished up my morning routine and headed out for Killarney.

With the last three major items on my agenda being the Dingle Peninsula, the Ring of Kerry and the Skellig Islands, all of which were scenic activities, it seemed that the weather as of late had much less sunshine than I had complained about in the earlier parts of my trip. It made me wonder if the Leprechauns had anything to do with the change in weather, having not been bothered by them for some time now.

Once in Killarney it did not take long for me to take care of business at the internet café and make a quick run to the An Post to drop off my last batch of postcards. Sitting in my car after a short walk in town, I rifled through my guidebooks to see what there was to do of interest. Coming across a write-up on the Crag Cave, it sounded like an interesting attraction, having been boasted as Ireland’s Showcase Cave.

Headed back north on the N22 to Farranfore, thence the N23 to Castleisland, where which the caves were located, I observed that the weather had not improved, which suited a cave visit just fine. Unlike the Marble Arch Caves I had visited some time ago, these caves were not reported as being a problem for flooding when it was raining heavily. It seemed I had made a good choice.

Pulling into the car park for the Crag Caves, I noticed that it was well sign-posted through town and easy to find on the outskirts of Castleisland. The traffic through the city center, however, was a mess with two N class roads trying to snake their way through the small town’s erratically laid out one-way streets. For an island country of only four and a half million people, it seemed that every town was equally as congested at all times, and left me to wonder if the entire population was on the road at the same time or that the census figures were incredibly understated.

Back at the Crag Caves, I found the visitor center to consist of a large gift shop, a small café and a children’s fun center. As a matter of fact, the gift shop’s inventory had a vast amount of items geared especially for children. Needless to say, there was an abundance of the half-pint humans, and it seemed that the facility was set up specifically for families.

The center did not have an exhibition or any displays regarding the cave and no audio visual presentations. It seemed that the cave itself was the extent of the attraction. It had all the markings of a classic tourist trap, which especially targeted children as the main prey for commercial activity.

Anxious to at least see the cave, I bought my ticket for €12 and waited for the tour to begin. After about 15 minutes, a man announced via public address that the tour was to meet by the green door. As all the ticket holders herded over to the assembly area, the guide soon showed up and we were off.

Once we had received a quick safety briefing, we followed our guide down a walkway which had an overhead cover made from timber, and started down some stairs into a concrete bunker, then continuing down a metal staircase into the cave. When all got to the bottom, our guide took us into the dark but colorfully lit abyss.

Gathering in the first chamber, we saw numerous small lights of different colors lighting up various parts of the cave, as if to point out certain aspects of the formations found inside. As we went along, she halted us to talk about some things found in the cave, then paused for a few minutes, apparently to allow folks to ask questions or take pictures.

Noticing some oddly colored speakers in some of the higher crevices and ledges, it was learned that they were there to add sound to the presentation, but were not operational at the time of our tour. Our guide did not seem very interested in telling us more than her script dictated, and it was rather boring as she showed no enthusiasm in lecturing to her captive audience.

When we got to the extent of the cave where easy passage terminated, she essentially said that the tour was over and that we could head back to the entrance. As folks started their way back, I took the opportunity to ask her about what she had said about the growth rate of stalactites, and told her about the ones I had observed at the Carrigafoyle Castle a few days back.

During the tour, she had said that they grow at a half an inch every thousand years. Based on that it would make the ones I saw in the 500-year-old castle about 3,000 years old. When I told her this, she seemed to go on the defensive, apparently thinking I was challenging her knowledge of the subject. Feeling like someone who had stepped on an emotional land mine, I let the topic die out and decided to do some more research on the matter later. It taught me to be careful of the questions you ask a woman while in a dark and lonely cave.

With that activity only taking about an hour of my time, I decided to find something else to add to my day, as it was too early to head back to my B&B. Avoiding the gift shop ambush, I headed back to the car to scan my guide books once more.

With Castleisland being just a few minutes away from Tralee, it seemed that the Kerry County Museum would be a good choice, and it had been proclaimed as being quite interesting. Having to go back through the zoo in Castleisland, I eventually found myself on my way to Tralee on the N21 and was there in a matter of minutes.

In my efforts to find the tourist office, so as to get directions to the museum, it was pleasing to find that the two were co-located near the town center. Once grounding my car and paying for my parking pass, I was on the front steps in a flash.

Once inside, I found the reception counter close at hand. It was a self-guided tour, which I had found great for museums as it allowed much time to view and study the displays. Once paying my €8 and being handed a floor plan of the museum, I was off to grow some brain cells.

The museum was broken down into six sections; a special temporary exhibit, an audiovisual presentation, a gallery of Irish history, an exhibit on a local Antarctic explorer named Tom Crean, an exhibit on the ruling medieval families, and an exhibit called the Medieval Experience.

The temporary exhibit on display during my visit was about a local hero, William Melville, who was known as the “Spymaster.” Born in County Kerry, he started out as a London cop, but eventually became the James Bond of the late 19^th and early 20^th century, working for a British spy service. As a matter of fact, for all you James Bond fans, there was an interesting piece of trivia I had learned.

If you recall, 007’s boss was named “M”, which happened to be Melville’s name when he was in the British Secret Service. It was the standard at that time to name the high level spies by the first letter of their last name. It is thought that James Bond author Ian Flemings, who had contact with this spy service while in the British Navy, had used this naming convention for the character in his book. So there! You’ve had your Jeopardy booster shot for the day.

The audiovisual was a series of photographs regarding things you could find in County Kerry. It was quite colorful and some of the pictures had been of places I had seen while touring. It was neat to be able to recognize the images, and remember having seen them in person. It was also a good way to rest my dogs, after having been on my feet for some time while viewing the first exhibition.

As for the gallery, I found this to be an outstanding set of displays which told you the history of Ireland from prehistoric times up until today, with clear and concise placards, descriptive pictures, genuine artifacts and realistic life-sized dioramas. It was like “Ireland 101” and I wished that I had seen this before any other exhibit in Ireland, as it would have given me a great frame of reference. Of course there were some things specific to County Kerry, but for the most part it was an unbiased presentation of Irish history.

Having not much interest in the Antarctic explorer, I moved directly to the Knight’s Hall to view the displays on a powerful family of Kerry during medieval times, the Fitzgeralds, who later became the Earls of Desmond. They were among the rebels who were a thorn in Queen Elizabeth’s side, and perhaps a few other places.

Lastly, and most importantly, was the Medieval Experience exhibit. It was like stepping through a time machine into a medieval town with all the characters, portrayed by model figures of course, going about their daily lives. It was constructed in a large chamber, which looked like a sound stage. It was eerily realistic walking through the makeshift street and a surreal experience. As with the gallery, this was also a good presentation of the many facets of medieval life. Along with concise reader boards, there was narration provided at each station as I moved through the medieval town.

As I exited the wonderfully done museum, passing through the ostentatious gift shop, I thought to myself about my final days in Ireland. With it being a scant week away from my departure from the Emerald Island, it appeared that the adventure would soon be over.

With a sigh, it made me think that with the driving finally becoming somewhat second nature and my body finally making the adjustments, it was soon time to upset the whole balance again. Hopefully the bloody Leprechauns will not decide to follow me home. That I could do without!!

To see more photographs related to this post go to the Photo gallery and click on the links for “Crag Cave”and “Kerry Museum.” Please note the IMG_####.jpg files are in high resolution to enable clearer enlargement.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007 After a good night’s rest and lively breakfast, it seemed that the Farmhouse B&Bs were much more personal and felt more like a home. The urban and suburban B&Bs had more of a commercial flavor to them and the guests much more reserved. However, the one common factor I have found about B&Bs in Ireland is that no two are alike, particularly in housing standards. As such, it had lowered my expectations of consistency, which I would normally receive from corporate accommodations back home, with some rooms being a far cry from building code standards.

One expectation I had of this place was that I had been told that there was an internet café in Inch, which was the next town west of Boolteens. However, when I went to look for it last night, so I could check up on my email, it turned out to be a pub with a wireless router. The hub of Irish culture had added yet another facet to its repertoire of services, having seen pubs not only be a social gathering place, but also meeting place, daycare center, office, restaurant and let us not forget its use as a critical navigational landmark.

This particular place was called Sammy’s and was a combination gift shop/restaurant/pub located on the beachfront. Carrying my laptop with me, I went inside to inquire and found out the true nature of the so-called internet café. Having made the effort to find the place, I took a seat at the bar and ordered some dinner while I set up my laptop. The owner, Sammy himself, came over to type in the access password and let me loose on the pub’s wireless router.

After taking the more-than-average time to load my browser, I noticed by looking at my connection speed that is was very slow and the bandwidth appeared to be quite narrow, probably because of others in the area using it. It definitely would not accommodate my uploading of photographs, leaving me to use it for checking my email only.

Having said that, my morning was spent driving to the town of Dingle, the largest town on the peninsula, in search of an internet café to upload my data. It was also on my mind to check into the famous Fungie, who was a dolphin that took up residence in Dingle bay in 1983 and was still in the area. I had heard that not only were boats rides offered to go see him, but also that there was the opportunity to swim with him.

It had been on my agenda to see the Dingle peninsula anyway, so this excursion fitted well into my plans. Unfortunately, since it was supposed to be a scenic drive and the weather did not look very accommodating, it did not seem that it would be clear enough to properly view it today. It was my thinking that if the weather was poor, I would have to reschedule seeing the entire peninsula on a better day.

As I was heading toward Dingle, the road had some extremely narrow stretches, leaving very little room for error when passing oncoming traffic. Luckily, I found myself behind a tour bus and let it clear the way for me, as it forced the oncoming traffic wide, almost running them off the road. It was like a running back following behind a massive lineman as he plowed his way through the field.

Upon entering Dingle, I saw that it was a fishing town with several working boats docked at the pier. There were also many pleasure boats in the marina adjacent it. As you would expect, the town was brimming with tourists and traffic. It reinforced my thinking about coming in the off-season on my next trip to Ireland.

Coming into the town center, an internet café appeared like a glowing, cyber oasis among the darker colored analog shops and pubs. Winding my way through the one-way streets, I found an open spot in a side alley and managed to squeeze my car into a gap with inches to spare. Not wasting any time, I ran in to the internet café and uploaded my data in record speed.

It would have been nice to spend more time there, as it was quite the operation having desktop computers with internet access, wireless connection for laptops, copiers, printers and even a CD burning service for folks wanting to transfer pictures from their memory cards. There was also a flat screen plasma TV on the wall, and the lady at the counter had a full-service, hot-beverage stand and refreshments. Keeping my true reason in mind for being in Ireland, I quelled the geek in me and headed back to my car.

Returning to my car, I headed to the waterfront as it seemed a logical place to find out about the Fungie, pronounced Fun-Gee (G as in golf) and the opportunities to see him up close and personal. Passing the tourist office, I saw a car park and found a space at the far end. Paying for my “Pay & Display” pass to fend off any ticket Nazis, I placed it on the dashboard and started my search.

Nearing the tourist office, I all but tripped over a dolphin-tour sign, and went into its respective office to make my inquiries. It seemed they had regular tours throughout the day, which went out to view him in the bay. Since he was a resident of Dingle Bay, it was almost a guarantee to see something of him, as dolphins were air-breathing mammals and had to come up for air sometime. There was just the question of how long he would stay above water and how elusive he would be of people, as he was an untamed, untrained, wild animal.

The swimming tour was yet another story. The boat that would take the swimmers out had one run time, which was 8am everyday. For some reason that seemed to be the best time for folks to go swimming with him. That or the boat captain was a morning person only.

Another requirement for the swim was to hire a wet suit, as the temperature of the bay water was at times hypothermic, if not bone chilling. Ultimately there was no guarantee that Fungie would come around, let alone rub elbows with you to find out how your day was going.

Having learned all this, it seemed a wise idea to take the boat ride out to just see 1) if he was even around and 2) how amiable he was at getting close to people. Looking at his recent photos they had plastered on the wall, he looked quite chunky and had a few wrinkles about the snout. This and the fact he had been in the bay since 1983 made for a very old flipper.

After signing up for the tour boat, I went into the tourist office to kill some time until boarding. As you would expect, there was Fungie souvenirs ready for your buying pleasure. It made me think about whether or not Fungie knew if humans were capitalizing on his good nature.

I wondered if they were giving him a cut of the proceeds in the way of some fish or other such treats. I thought probably not because he was living in the wild and it would be detrimental to feed him, as he needed to keep up his hunting skills. I had heard one of the tour employees mention he feasted quite well from the salmon in the bay. Looking at his picture, I’d say he was quite the fisherman.

Soon it was time to board and we were off with a full boat. It made me think that getting any photographs was going to be highly competitive, especially since any sighting of Fungie would be restricted to one side of the boat. Thinking I had the height advantage, it did not seem to be much of a problem.

The rain had been intermittent since leaving my B&B and it was not raining when we left the dock. However, as we neared the mouth of the bay, we started to get some liquid sunshine. Zipping up my jacket while taking my cap from my pocket and putting it on my head, I was glad to have taken the seat in the shadow of the pilothouse, sheltering me from the blowing rain.

As the boat trawled about, people were scanning the area for any sign of Fungie. It did not take long for someone to spot him, as it was only a matter of time until he needed air. As the captain tried to steer the boat in the direction of the sighting, it seemed like a game of cat & mouse to get close enough for people to get any pictures. After a time he disappeared, grabbing one last breath and submerging for several minutes.

The captain tried moving about in anticipation of where he would surface again. At no time during the first sighting did Fungie make an effort to approach the boat, as was portrayed in the marketing brochures seen at the docks. Also, he never stayed above water for longer than it took to blow out the bad and take in the new. Perhaps he was burned out with the Hollywood thing of being a star attraction.

After a while the captain throttled up the motor and started to make a run for the ocean. It seemed he was trying to get Fungie to play with the boat, as dolphins were quite famous for swimming along the bows of fast moving vessels. With this in mind, I stood near the edge of the port side, thinking I had a 50/50 chance of getting a close look at him.

Within a couple of minutes, my lucked paid off as he was swimming right along my side of the boat and just below the surface. With my camera at the ready, it would only be a short time until he came up for air. When he did, the shortcoming of a digital camera reared its ugly head, as the delayed response from pushing the button and the time for the camera to actually take the picture resulted in my getting a great shot of his dorsal fin, as he was submerging at the moment of action.

He did not stay with the boat very long and disappeared again. I supposed that he was not the playful young dolphin he was many years ago, when people had photographed him leaping out of the water, bringing his entire body into mid air.

Soon Fungie was sighted again, but he was just swimming casually along and only surfacing long enough to get a breath. At one time he had swum in our direction, but I found it impossible to anticipate the time he would surface, being lucky enough to get any shots of him at all with the delayed action of the camera. It made me think that it would have been a good idea to have one of those disposable cameras with a manually operated shutter.

Oh well, this gave me yet another reason to make a return trip to Ireland. Perhaps I may try to swim with Fungie, but it seemed that if he was that elusive when people were on a boat, he probably was beyond the years of wanting any close contact. After all, wouldn’t you get tired of people coming to your house in large groups and barging in whenever they wanted? Bet you would try and hide, only coming up for air when needed.

Be well Fungie! We love you man!

To see more photographs related to this post go to the Photo gallery and click on the link for “Fungie.”

Monday, August 13, 2007 It was moving day again and hopefully only three more remaining until my return to the states. Gypsy travel and living out of a suitcase was fun at first but the stability of being home became more attractive with each loading of the car.

After breakfast I settled my bill and loaded out quickly, as most of my stuff had remained in the car due to lack of space in my small room. However, I was not on the road until after the noon hour, having to spend time at the internet café refining and uploading two days worth of data. With the internet café being closed yesterday, it put me a little behind.

Having talked to my new host on the phone last night, she informed me that I could check in straight away and ground my belongings before touring for the day. It did not give me a warm & fuzzy feeling to go touring and leave my stuff in the car while it sat in a public area. Since my new home was in a village called Boolteens, which was just about 50 kilometers southwest of Listowel, it seemed I could check in and still have time for a little sightseeing.

After taking the N69 to Tralee to meet the N70 to Castlemaine, I joined the R561 west to the village of Boolteens. It must have been a very small village, as it did not appear in my map book. Once leaving the N69 to head out on the N70, I found the road to be the typical two-lane road with no shoulder, but soon after leaving the town limits of Tralee, it started to climb and become very winding. It descended into the Castlemaine area and soon I was back at sea level.

Heading out on the Dingle Road, or the R561 for you technical folks, I found Boolteens just a handful of kilometers out of Castlemaine. Soon I was at the Murphy Farmhouse B&B which, as the name implied, was a working dairy farm.

After checking in with Mary, she showed me my room which was a grand improvement both in the size of the room and in the size of the bed. Having lost much sleep in the last two nights, I was looking forward to a comfortable night’s rest.

With all my belongings comfortably placed into my new home, it was time for some touring. With it being just after 1pm, it had to be something simple and could be done in a reasonable amount of time. After reviewing my list, it seemed that a tour of a local castle would suit me fine.

The castle that interested me was, strangely enough, just north of Listowel and it would have been more efficient to check it out before coming to Boolteens. This behavior really violated my inherent personality, but….Oh well, what’s done is done! At least I was conforming to my rule of spontaneity. Hmmm…Is that an oxymoron?

After driving back to Listowel, I decided to be bold and take a direct route to Ballylongford, home of the Carrigafoyle Castle. Taking the R552, I found myself in Ballylongford without too much hassle, but the paved road must have been constructed on very soft ground, as there were some serous dips in it, which caught me by surprise as I was driving near the speed limit of 80kph. It gave the suspension system a real workout!

Finding the Carrigafoyle Castle just to the north and west of the town of Ballylongford, I noticed that it had been built next to the river Shannon on an inlet. The tide was out which surrounded the east half of the tower house with mud. The western half, which had much of its wall missing, was connected to dry land.

With it looking like someone had knocked a big hole in the west side, I learned by reading the placard in the car park that it had been blown off by British canon fire in the late 1500s. It seemed that Queen Elizabeth had a beef with the Irish Earl of Desmond. Of course, he was rebelling the crown’s authority, which does not make one a close friend.

Normally a castle siege took anywhere from weeks to months, but this assault spanned a mere three days. I thought it must have been magnificent in its day, with its unique construction of flat stone giving it a very square and tidy appearance, which had been called impregnable with conventional methods of the time. However, with the use of gunpowder the mighty castle was brought to its knees.

It was maintained by the OPW and had much restorative work done, but it seemed that to rebuild the western half would probably be more work than they wanted to handle. The best part was that it was both free admission and free access, meaning it would be possible for me to roam about at will. Since there were few visitors, it would also mean solace while taking my time gathering photographs.

Noticing some of the usual facets found in a fortified castle, I did find a few things that were unique. In a bunker located in the outer wall, I found what appeared to be cubby holes above the battle positions. They were organized which told me the purpose was either aesthetic or utility. Since it was a fortified castle and not a manor house, it probably had some kind of useful aspect for the soldiers.

Another strange find was two chambers that were about four feet in height with an equally small entrance. There were no windows and it did not seem to be quarters of any type, unless it was for dwarves, which did not make sense. One of these chambers had its back side missing as it was part of the western wall which had been demolished by canon fire.

A real interesting find was the formation of stalactites on the ceiling near the center of the structure on an upper floor by one of the garderobes. They were about an inch and a half in length, which meant they were hundreds of years old. The tour guide at the Marble Arch Caves, which I had visited earlier in the trip, mentioned the growth rate for these sedimentary formations, but I could not recall the exact figures.

Lastly, there was a chamber near the top of the tower which had a uniquely shaped exit hole out to the north side of the castle. Since the garderobes found on the other levels had been on the north side as well, I supposed it was the master’s chamber and it may have been a private toilet, also known as an en-suite chamber.

After spending some time roaming about and enjoying the cool breeze blowing from the ocean, I took a moment to ponder what the castle must have looked like in the day. Soon I had all the photos that suited me, to include a nice vertical panoramic of the inside area, and found my way back to the car.

As I sat behind the steering wheel staring at the gapping hole in the west wall, it occurred to me that the might and power of the castle had finally met its match. Gunpowder had ended an age and began another.

To see more photographs related to this post go to the Photo gallery and click on the link for “Carrigafoyle Castle.” Please note the IMG_####.jpg files are in high resolution to enable clearer enlargement.

Sunday, August 12, 2007 During breakfast this morning, I had a chat with one of my hosts, Rosarie, and it came to mind to ask if she knew anything about the statue of former U.S. President, Bill Clinton, which I had seen in nearby Ballybunion. With a smile and an air of pride, she commented that he had visited Ballybunion sometime in the 1990s and had played some golf while in the town. She did not know why he had chosen to visit the small rural Irish town, but did recall he had been in Dublin and Belfast and probably took a side trip.

She shared a story about the statue that I had not heard and thought it unusual as the US media was always good about targeting the President when strange stories had the opportunity to grab a headline. It seemed that some vandals had removed the golf ball from the statue, probably as a souvenir, and it was a long standing joke in the area around Ballybunion to pose the question as to who had Bill’s ball?

Of course, this begs the question; could the dastardly Leprechauns have taken it? It’s one thing to have fun at the expense of a normal citizen like myself, but to have the claim that the most powerful man in the world had become the patsy for the wee-est of men, would give them the grandest title of all.

After my morning enlightenment, it was time to decide on what to do for the day. Since the internet café was not going to be open at all today, it would be unlikely I’d be able to upload yesterday’s entry, which would give me the whole day to do some touring. Looking out the window, I noticed that the clouds were puffy but scattered, and it seemed it would be a good day to see the Gap of Dunloe. Questioning the weather, I decided to head to Killarney and make the final call once I saw conditions there.

Sunday’s were always fun time for me to drive in Ireland, especially in the mornings as the roads were almost deserted. Making great time to Killarney, I was at the car park in less than an hour. There was no fee for parking on Sunday either, which was all the more fun. After dousing myself with 30 SPF sunblock, as the entire day would be out in the elements, I grabbed my gear and headed for O’Connor’s Tavern to sign up for the tour. The weather appeared to be clearing, which was very encouraging.

As I approached the Tavern, one of the vintage coaches, as they were called, was parked in front and the little office was open for business. Upon inquiring into the package deal, I learned that it included a coach ride to Kate Kearney’s Cottage and a boat ride from the opposite end of the Gap on the lower lake, through the three Killarney lakes to the Ross castle. From there a coach would take us back to O’Connor’s Tavern. As for the actual trip through the gap to the Lord Brandon’s cottage, where which the boat would pick us up, there were a few options; you could walk, ride a bicycle, be carried in a trap, or go on horseback.

Feeling excited about the trip, I grabbed some hot tea as we waited for boarding time. No sooner than I got my tea, it was time to go. We piled into the vintage coaches, which sounded as old as they looked, and started out of town. We made some stops along the way to pick up some folks from hotels, where they had probably made special arrangements for the tour. Eventually we arrived at Kate’s Cottage and offloaded to choose our modes of transport to Lord Brandon’s cottage, which would take us through the Gap.

No sooner than we were off of the coach, some trap drivers began to solicit and organize their passengers. Being a one-person group, I had to wait until a full cart could be put together with some other stragglers. It only took a few extra moments, as the drivers were well practiced at organizing loads and getting things under way.

At this point, I probably should mention that because there was a community in the valley beyond the Gap, and the road taking us there seemed to be the only one which accessed the village, we found ourselves competing for space on the one lane rural road with the odd automobile.

There was a sign at the beginning of the trail which recommended folks use one of the four means of transportation I mentioned earlier, which would leave the residents as the only ones on the road with automobiles. Well, as you would expect, there were some tourists who were adamant at wanting to do the Gap in their car, which made for some interesting encounters between horse and machine. In my opinion, to experience the Gap properly, it had to be done without a car.

Being matched with two other adults and an adolescent boy, we were placed into the cart, which is said to be called a trap because once you were in it, you were essentially trapped until the driver released you. Our driver, Kathleen, also had to organize the horseback riders and escort them along the trail. Riding somewhat cramped in the cart, we followed behind the line of horses as Kathleen gave direction to the entire caravan of animals.

As we moved along, Kathleen hollered commands to the horses while controlling the one pulling the cart. She also had to give orders to the humans on horseback, reminding them how to control the horses. If there is one thing I know about riding horses, it is that you have to tell them who’s boss and never let them think they are. It seemed Kathleen was getting mildly frustrated with the humans, as the horses were obviously in control and moving at a pace of their choosing, which was dead slow.

During the ascent into the Gap, the asphalt road became steeper and narrower. Kathleen asked for those of us who could walk to get out of the cart and make the ascent on foot to keep from working the horse too much. Feeling guilty about being the biggest guy in the cart and most likely the heaviest, it seemed the right thing to do in being kind to the horse. Besides, a climbing walk was probably the best form of low impact exercise for me.

Once on foot, I found myself passing the humans on horseback and having a good time of it. Stopping periodically to glance back at the view, I was able to freely take photographs as my hands were free to handle the camera and not have to worry about hanging on in the bouncing trap. The views were magnificent and made for some excellent pictures.

Once at the summit, I took a seat on a big rock next to one of the many little waterfalls formed in the mountains from rainfall, and enjoyed the sound of flowing water as I waited for the rest of the group to catch up. After a few minutes, the horseback humans passed by and then the cart approached as it reached level ground. As I stood up and climbed down the rock, I stuck my right thumb out as if hitchhiking for a ride. Kathleen brought the trap to a halt and in a flash I was on board and we were on our way to the Gap.

As we moved along, Kathleen pointed out the names of the lakes and mountains around us. There was one called Echo Mountain. To illustrate how it got its name, she yelled out and within a couple of seconds we could hear her voice again in the distance. Having never experienced that first hand and only in concept, I thought it quite fascinating. She gave each of us a turn at playing with this phenomena, which was quite fun.

After a short while the pass started another ascent, and almost without cue, I climbed back out and was on foot for another climb on a switched back road which would carry us to the Gap’s summit. After getting back on board when the cart was on level ground, we began our descent into the valley below.

With Kathleen having positioned the trap in the middle of the horseback group, she was better able to control the other horses, as the riders had obviously relinquished control to the beasts. At times the rider behind the trap allowed the horse to get within arms reach and I’d stroke the animal’s forehead with my hand just to say hello. I wished there was an apple handy, as the horse seemed to be asking me for a snack.

Heading downhill, the horses were easier to coax into moving at a trot, and Kathleen was able to make up for the time lost on the climb. It almost seemed that the horses wanted to run, perhaps thinking that the end was near. As we came down the mountain side, a small town came into view with houses, a small church and a couple of buildings scattered about the valley leaving much land between them. One of the passengers mentioned that there was a school in the community which had a student body of about 25 children. It was a small village indeed.

As we were trotting down the road, I decided to take a video clip as a souvenir, and wished I had more memory on the card to capture more of the experience. Soon we arrived at the end of the trail, leaving us to walk a short distance to Lord Brandon’s Cottage. Paying Kathleen her well earned fare and saying goodbye to our one-horsepower engine, I crossed a stone bridge and followed a trail passed a donkey pasture leading to the cottage.

Nearing a white, one-storey building constructed from brick, I heard Irish music and smelled the smoke from a BBQ grill. As I entered a walkway leading into an open area of picnic tables and a concession stand, I noticed some people having a feast near the biggest BBQ grill I had ever seen. As I walked passed the cooking area, I eyed the glistening steaks and hot dogs as they seared over the heat. I had read that they provided BBQs for private parties at the Lord Brandon Cottage, so it seemed that we had arrived during such an event. This told me that the juicy steaks were off limits to outsiders, of which I was one.

As I walked up to the concession stand, I noticed the time as being just short of 1pm. Our boat was not scheduled to depart from lakeside until 2pm, so that gave me plenty of time to grab a bite and sit down to enjoy the spillover of Irish music from the private festivities. As I sat down with my turkey sandwich and vegetable soup, a cool breeze blew the smell of the BBQ in my direction, but it also brought the sound of the upbeat rhythm of Irish music.

After a time, the BBQ was over and the participants had departed, leaving the folks who had made the trip through the Gap milling about in anticipation of the impending boat ride. As the time drew near, folks were disappearing to gather at the dock, so as to not miss their port call.

Showing up at the dock with about 10 minutes to spare, I noticed that there were a half dozen longboats, which were set up to carry 12 passengers each. Even the longer of the boats, which could easily have carried more folks, was restricted to just 12 people according to the number of life jackets I had counted in the boats. As I watched the number of passengers grow, I figured that it would be best to stay at the back and let others board first.

This thinking was not out of generosity or kindness, but was a result of simple math. I knew that if I was at the front end of the pack, my boat was guaranteed to be full. If I waited until all were on board, there was a chance that my boat would not be full, giving me more room and flexibility in taking some photographs. Guess what? It worked, as I not only was in a boat with just 5 other passengers and the skipper, but it was one of the larger crafts in the tourist armada.

One by one the fleet of tourist boats left the cove and entered the upper lake. Powered by an outboard motor at full speed, our captain had us cruising into open water in no time. Since we were one of the last boats to leave, a fellow passenger had thought that he was going to try get into a race with the lead boats, commenting, “He had this twinkle in his eye.”

The trip was to cross 13 miles of water consisting of three lakes and a river. As we went along, our guide would periodically stop the boat and quiet the motor so he could tell us some of what we were seeing. It was impressive to hear how deep the lakes were, with numbers in the hundreds. Judging from the dark blue color, it seemed to support the fact the lakes were deep enough to sink a ship out of view. Hopefully, it would not be our ship.

Slipping effortlessly between the tight gaps made by small islands in the lake, our skipper had brought the lead boats into view and it seemed that we were actually gaining on them. Of course, it did not feel like we were going at a breakneck speed, as some of the passengers seemed to be lulled into a trance, as the boat cut quietly through the water, making small splashing noises along the sides. Had it not been for the sound of the boat motor, I believe some would have fallen asleep during the ride. But it would have been a short-lived slumber.

Crossing through the middle lake and into a short run of river, we passed under some stone bridges said to be over three hundred years old, and found ourselves on the lower lake, which would eventually dumped into the sea off Ireland’s west coast. It no longer looked like a pristine lake, but more like an ocean bay with its large expanse.

Because the lakes were in the Killarney National Park, the only boats that were allowed on the water were licensed tour boats or powerless craft like canoes and kayaks. This gave the lakes both a pristine appearance, keeping it closer to a natural, un-commercial state, and a vastness due to the lack of manmade objects to pollute the scenery.

With the lake’s expanse and the fact it was just one river away from the ocean, the waters were choppy and white caps could be seen. There were some one-to-two foot swells, which may have appeared small, but with the winds and the low cut sides of the boat, it made for an exciting ride. This and the fact we were 6 passengers lighter, caused the boat to react more so, as we seemed to bounce and roll much more than the other fully loaded boats.

The captain directed that I should move from my place in the middle to a seat further aft, stating that the ride would be much dryer for me. He also directed the couple near the front of the boat to get closer to the bow for the same reason. He grumbled when the woman up front refused to move, saying something about people not doing what they are told for their own good.

Slowing the boat, he grabbed some plastic tarps and handed one to the couple at the bow and the other to our little group of four near the stern. Getting back to his seat next to the motor, he grabbed a portion of our tarp to cover his legs and we were off to pound surf.

Reminding me of the TV series, Deadliest Catch, the boat pitched and rolled with water splashing more as we got further toward the center of the lake. It seemed that our shipmates at the bow were absorbing most of the water, leaving little to find us at the stern. It came to mind that maybe the captain may have had ulterior motives when offering them seats at the front of the boat at the time of loading, having called them his first-class passengers. Perhaps there was more to his eye’s twinkle than just being the first boat to finish.

As we passed behind a small island, which had been the site of an ancient monastery, the water calmed and it was not long before the Ross Castle was seen in the distance. It was neat to see the castle form the vantage point of the lake, as I had only seen it from dry land a few days previous. Taking a picture of our approach to the castle, it seemed that the wild ride had deposited water on my lens, spoiling my any shots I had taken during the later parts of the journey.

Within a few minutes of spotting the castle, we were at the dock and offloading to head over to the vintage coaches for transport back to O’Connor’s Tavern. As one of the passengers got off of the boat, she wavered about as if the ground was rolling and pitching. Perhaps a tavern was the last place she needed to go, appearing to be a little tipsy already.

With my final days in Ireland upon me, there were only a couple of things left on my Must-See list. I was especially glad to have had the Gap of Dunloe on my itinerary, and found it to be one of the coolest things I had done in Ireland.

To see more photographs related to this post go to the Photo gallery and click on the links for “Gap of Dunloe” and “Killarney Lakes.”

Saturday, August 11, 2007 Deciding to modify my wake-up time so as to facilitate departing before the parking disc requirement took effect, I found myself a little un-rested which was also attributed to a difficult night sleeping on my not-so-comfortable twin bed. As such it seemed a good idea to not do any heavy touring today, and go with the flow.

After breakfast I walked over to the internet café a couple of doors down from my B&B to see if they were open. With the lights out and the door closed, I noticed a sign posted that indicated that they would be open at 9:30am, which happened to coincide with the start time of the parking disc. As such, I thought it would be a good idea to go ahead and hit the road and visit an internet café in Killarney, as I wanted to check into the Gap of Dunloe tour which was nearby.

Arriving in Killarney after an hour’s drive and just before 10am, I noticed that the roads were wide open either because of the rainy weather or it being early in the day. I supposed it was a combination of both, finding the traffic in the normally bustling tourist trap to be relatively low. Pulling into the car park, I had no problem getting a spot as several spaces were available. This was not the Killarney I knew a few days ago.

After taking care of business at the internet café, I decided to drive out to Kate Kearney’s Cottage, which was said to be the launching point for the Gap of Dunloe tour. With it being only a few kilometers out of town, I was there in a snap despite the increasingly narrow roads as I got closer to the site.

Finding a space in the car park near the cottage, I noticed several horse and trap combinations. A trap was a two-wheeled, open air cart designed to carry passengers. Entering a small café, I found someone who knew about the tour; however it was too late to catch the one for today. After getting some information from the man at the counter, I decided to head back into Killarney for a bite to eat.

On my way to the car, a gentleman sitting in a trap struck up a conversation with me to tell me some of the options available for seeing the Gap of Dunloe. It was apparent to me he was trying to hustle my business in the process. After he told me the different options for touring the Gap, I thanked him saying that I had much to think about in making my final decision. He was cordial but I think he was a little perturbed at my not signing on with him for a ride to the Gap.

Back in Killarney, I wandered the streets in search of an office that handled the Gap of Dunloe tours, so I could find out about a package deal I had read about on a sign seen by Kate Kearney’s Cottage. Thanks to the gentleman back at the cottage, it was apparent that there were some ala-carte tours available but I wanted something a bit more complete. Looking to get some leads on where to find the operators of this package deal, I ended up heading over to the tourist office for some help.

It was incredible how few people there were in the town center, which had looked like downtown Manhattan earlier in the week. It just didn’t seem right. Oh well, I wasn’t complaining, as it was nice to be able to stroll down the sidewalk and not have to take evasive maneuvers to get through the crowd.

After getting directions from a tour consultant and walking over to the office for the Gap tour, which was a small room at the front of the O’Connor’s Tavern on High Street, it was to my dismay that it was closed with no indication of the times it would be open.

Noting a phone number on a brochure in the window, I called to leave a message regarding my inquiry into the tour. I also read a posting that said the tours met there at 10:30 to organize and board the bus for transportation to the cottage. Should I fail to hear from anyone here, it seemed a good idea to show up at that time on the day I wanted to go and sign up for the tour then.

After walking around a bit and getting some lunch, I modified my plan and decided it was a good day to take a drive along a scenic route in North Kerry. I had a need to see some ocean, and a coastal drive seemed like the fix.

With the two major scenic drives in County Kerry being the Dingle Peninsula, and the world famous Ring of Kerry, I decided that I wanted to save those for another day. Since they were essentially a day trip in and of themselves, it was too late to consider them for today. So I opted for a shorter run along the area just west of Listowel. The route involved the towns of Tralee, Ardfert, Ballyheige, Ballyduff, Ballybunion, Tarbert and ending in Listowel.

As I left out of Tralee heading toward the coast, the weather was still holding but was overcast with low rains clouds. Once getting to Ardfert the rains picked up and it looked like the run would be in a blanket of pelting rain. As such, the visibility was greatly reduced.

It was the one day that I would not have minded sunshine, having been cooked by the blazing ball of fire on the days when a little rain would not have mattered. But the one day I decided to take a scenic ride…..well, I’m sure the illustrious Leprechauns may have had a hand in it. They probably wanted to make a rainbow with which to tease people. No matter, I was going to complete the route and hope it would not be too bad once I was on the coast.

The only town on my route located on the coast was Ballybunion. As I pulled into the rain soaked village, it was clearly a tourist trap, with hotels, restaurants and B&Bs lining the streets. There was even a small carnival set up on the edge of town, but was not operating apparently because of the heavy rain. One interesting sight as I pulled into town was a statue of former President Bill Clinton holding a gold club, situated in front of the town Garda station. Perhaps the most powerful man in the world stopped by to play some golf, giving the townsfolk a claim to fame.

Another claim to fame, which was much older than the Ex-president, was a castle, or rather, the remains of one. Finding it hard to imagine finding such a thing in Ireland, I drove down a road, which followed the cliffside down to a public beach, and parked near a trail leading out to the ruins. Braving the fiercely blowing rain, I walked out to the promontory on which it stood and took a few moments to get some pictures and take in the ocean air. Enjoying the sound of the surf and wind, I shot a brief video clip with my camera, so as to have a souvenir of my experience.

Realizing the rain was soaking my jeans, as it was pelting me in a sideways manner, it seemed a good time to break off the visit and return to my dry car. Getting one last shot of the partial castle, which had been subjected to mother’s natures forces of wind, rain and a lightening strike over the past 500 years, I found it futile to keep the lens dry and thought the water on the lens might make for an interesting effect.

Finishing up my run on the coast, I pulled into Listowel and managed to get a parking space in front of my B&B on the first pass. What a nice way to end the day’s travel on the Emerald Island.

To see more photographs related to this post go to the Photo gallery and click on the links for “Ballybunion.” Please note the IMG_####.jpg files are in high resolution to enable clearer enlargement.

Friday, August 10, 2007 It was moving day again, and this time I was off to Listowel to stay at the North County House B&B, which was located in the town proper. Having stayed at B&Bs in rural and suburban areas, this was my first time to get accommodations inside urban limits.

Being packed and ready to settle by 9:30am, I closed the deal with Siobhan giving her one of the golden coins, which had been my way of showing gratitude for my hosts’ wonderful Irish hospitality.

After exchanging farewells, I made my way to the car and was headed into Kinsale to find a faxing service so I could forward my application & resume to the personnel office, then go to the internet café to upload yesterday’s entry. After this was done, I sat in a bakery to fill out some postcards and drink some nice hot tea, while looking out the store window at the steady drizzle. This being only the second day of rain since my arrival in the southern region, it was way overdue.

Once I dropped off my postcards at the mailbox outside of the An Post, it was time to hit the not-so-dusty road and head for Listowel, which was located between the towns of Tralee and Limerick. It was well north of where I wanted to be, which was Killarney, but this was the closest accommodation that could be found for me due to the extremely high volume of tourists. It seemed that of all the times during the high season, the first half of August was the peak, which meant accommodations were even harder to secure.

After getting back to the Cork City area, I took the N22 west through Killarney to Tralee, thence the N69 to Listowel. Navigating through Tralee was a bit dicey but it seemed I had the technique down for staying on course. I found signage to be best in the south, as it seemed that the EU was subsidizing more projects in this region than in any of the others. Perhaps the spillover effect would find Ireland’s entire infrastructure up to European standards in short order.

Arriving in Listowel three hours later, I found the small town to be equally as busy as any of its bigger sisters. With there still being plenty of time left in the day and having accidentally located my new B&B in town, driving by it while looking for the tourist center, I decided to take in the Listowel Castle. It was located near the town center adjacent the river Feale.

Finding the TIO was easy; so easy that I drove by it twice before realizing it was right under my nose. It was in a church that was precisely in the center of the town square. I had been trying to follow the arrow-shaped signs around the square before realizing that it was in fact at the church. I must have looked like the proverbial dog chasing its tail.

After a quick visit to the TIO, I walked across the busy throughway, as the N69 ran right through the center of town, and found the castle just on the other side of some modern buildings along side the river. I noticed that it was an OPW site and that it was shown by guided tour only. Walking into the visitor center for a writer’s exhibit located next to the castle, I found the OPW counter located in there as well.

Since it had been raining, the curators weren’t sure if they would be giving a tour, as it seemed to keep people away and there were no interested tourists other than myself at the moment. The tour guide asked me to come back in a half an hour and hopefully something could be arranged. Deciding to take a walk about the outside of the castle, it seemed I could find a way to kill some time.

Having read about the restoration efforts the OPW had put into the Listowel Castle, it was easy to see the fruits of their labor. From the front it seemed like an intact castle, but after walking to the other side, I found that a significant portion of the castle was missing. In order for visitors to be able to see the upper levels of the castle, OPW had to construct a modern exterior staircase. It was a hybrid of ancient and modern technology forming the basis of a viewable structure.

Having plenty of time remaining, I walked down the main street, which was Church Street (imagine that) and found my B&B. I checked in and inquired as to the parking situation, as I did not see a car park designated for the B&B. As a matter of fact, there were no car parks, period! It was to my dismay that there was no parking for the B&B specifically, and that I had to compete with the rest of the town’s visitors for on-the-street parking. With it being a weekend, this was to be quite the challenge.

Mulling over my parking predicament, it was only worsened when I noticed the signs on the street that said that a parking disc was required and that it was a two-hour parking limit. Fortunately for me the rule only applied from 9:30am to 6pm, but that would mean that I would have to be in my car and moving by 9:30 and back no earlier than 6pm. So much for a casual morning or an early retirement from the day’s activity.

Arriving back at the castle by the designated time, I found the tour guide ready to go, having rounded up some more visitors for the group. As we approached the locked door of the castle, we scooped up another family of tourists nearby.

Thinking that the tour was not going to be much to see in the way of stone and mortar, the tour guide gave me the impression that he would more than make up for the absent parts of the castle with a robust lecture. It seemed that Tom had much knowledge and was able to not only tell us about the castle itself, but also about some of the people and history behind it. As he took us to the various parts of the castle, it was easy to see that it had been restored in a like fashion to the Ross Castle. Since there were no anti-photography signs, I was able to take some interior shots showing the chambers’ fully restored state.

Thinking that I had a full understanding of the facets for the castles of Ireland, Tom showed us something I had not seen in any of the others. It was a murder hole a bowman used to shoot at attackers as they tried to come up the spiral staircase. What made it insidious was that the attacker would not see it as they came up the stairs, which gave the defender a direct shot at their back.

It seemed that the castles of Ireland had a mixture of technologies, which had many origins throughout Europe. It was my thought that there were some facets of castles that had been devised in Ireland as well. It only goes to show that there is always room for improvement. With over 3,000 castles & tower houses in Ireland, I’m sure there are some neat things I had yet to see.

After the extremely interesting tour, I went back to my car, which was parked outside the TIO. As the streets were one-way only in the neighborhood of my B&B, it seemed that I would have to do a few laps until a parking space would open up within reasonable distance to my accommodations. As luck would have it, I found one on the first pass and despite the small gap in cars, I was able to parallel park my ride in the tight little spot on my first try. That’s when my luck ceased.

Lugging my huge suitcase up the narrow stairs, I opened the door of my room and noticed that it was more like a closet. As a matter of fact, the walk-in closet in the house I had built back home was larger than my new sleeping chamber. Thinking about the remainder of my possessions in the car, I determined that it would be best to leave the stuff in the car, so as to give me some room to maneuver.

Feeling that this was another torment for my ignorance of proper planning, I made myself feel better by thinking back on some of the really austere living environments I had to endure during my experience in the Army, and resigned myself to accepting what I had and make the best of it. At least the small space would make it hard for Leprechauns to find a hiding place in my abode, denying them a vantage point from which to plot their treacherous schemes.

To see more photographs related to this post go to the Photo gallery and click on the links for “Listowel” & “Listowel Castle.”

Thursday, August 9, 2007 Having received an email from an associate back home regarding a job opening of interest, I decided to take a day off from touring to prepare my application, which well suited today’s stormy weather.

After going into town to upload yesterday’s data and checking email, I accessed the information I needed to complete my job application and forward it to the appropriate folks back home.

Retreating to my B&B, I set up shop in the sun room, which gave me a wonderful view of the gardens while preparing my application packet. It felt nice to sit in the big open room and watch mother nature’s wrath through the huge glass eave of the cozy chamber.

Here are some interesting photos from yesterday’s visit to the Desmond Castle:

Wednesday, August 8, 2007 Well I think the Leprechauns found a way to mess with me here in Kinsale. When I arrived last night at the Harbour Hill Farm B&B, it was to my delight that they had broadband and a wireless router in the house. Thinking I died and went to cyber-heaven, I had my laptop set up in no time. However, my joy was short lived as it was unable to detect any wireless connections.

When I checked with my host Nigel, he said that it was up and running and that others had not reported having any difficulties. He disclosed that his European guests had no problem picking up the wireless router, and that it seemed only the Americans were unable to detect it with their laptops. “Yeah,” I thought, probably only tall red-haired Americans who were looking for Leprechauns.

So it goes without saying that my morning at the B&B was short and I was on my way into Kinsale in search of an internet café. Also, with my supply of clean clothes getting short and it getting close to the weekend, it was my idea to drop off some laundry at the cleaners about which Siobhan told me, which was a block from the internet café I found last night when going into town for dinner.

Dropping off my laundry at 10am, I was told that because I had dropped it off in the early part of the day, before everyone else, it should be ready after 3pm today. This was perfect, as I had planned on spending the day in Kinsale to check out the museum and, as you would expect by now, the Desmond Castle. With everything located within the compact coastal town, the car was to earn a well deserved rest.

After uploading my data and checking email, I went to get some hot tea and a sandwich before touring. As I wandered the streets, the European-styled town had started bustling with people and cars, and with the extremely narrow streets it was a battle of man against machine for ownership. With the erratically laid out one and two-way streets, it seemed ludicrous to want to drive when all was within walking distance. Not to mention parking was more of a challenge, to which I had no problem, having arrived in town long before the tourists had begun their day.

After my snack at the small deli across the street from the internet café, I noticed that the museum was located at the same intersection, which was very handy. The museum was in an old building that used to be a 17^th century courthouse. It was always fun to look at old stuff, especially old stuff from a different country. The museum was a collection of artifacts with origins in Kinsale. The two significant events in Kinsale history included being the focal point for the hearing in the Lusitania sinking and the Battle for Kinsale in 1601.

Not wanting to spoil your fun, I won’t tell you about everything I saw in the museum, but there are a couple of things that warrant comment. First of all, as I entered the museum’s exhibit area, I was met with something a little unnerving; it was a “man trap.” I was not sure if it was something used to teach poachers a lesson or a tool for domineering housewives. Either way, it looked evil to me.

The next item to get my attention was a set of very large deer antlers and skull. The rack looked like they had come from an elk and not an animal folks affectionately refer to as Bambi. The span was over seven feet wide and looked quite formidable. Using my hand to scale it, I imagined the size of the critter and how smart the thing was to avoid being hunted long enough to grow to that extent. Since it was an Irish deer, it must have had the luck as well.

There were some items claimed to have come from the wreck of the Lusitania, and a rather interesting medal that was alleged to have been designed in Germany to commemorate its sinking. I photographed an image in high resolution so you can read the writing on the medal and on the box in which it was displayed. I could only imagine how insightful it must have been in the day, recalling some images I had seen of art work done by terrorist supporters to commemorate the 9-11 attacks.

The last thing I’d like to mention was the room that had all the tools of the various trades one would expect to find in an ancient village. With exhibits for a blacksmith, tanner, printer, shipwright, carpenter, cooper and some other skilled craft, the place looked like an ancient version of a home improvement retailer. It would have been easy to spend hours looking at all the tools and try to figure out what they were and how they were used. Unfortunately the exhibits were behind glass, which prevented use of my flash and reeked havoc with my auto focus, making me wish I had my old manual Nikon FM 35mm SLR.

After viewing the museum my dogs were feeling sore so I took up a seat on a nearby bench outside of a barber shop. I was in need of a haircut anyway, but the note on the door said they would be back at 2:30, as they were out to lunch. It made me think of when I stopped by the post office earlier and saw the sign that said they were out to lunch as well, and had closed shop.

Realizing I was in another country and not the states, I thought that it would have been almost criminal for a shop to close back home during prime business hours. It’s bad enough most places here did not open until 10am, and that the streets rolled up around 6pm, but to totally shut down in the middle of the day was too much for me to understand. Perhaps that is why we are so stressed out in the United States. Well most of us anyway.

After getting my haircut, it was time to see the Desmond Castle, which actually was more like a fortified tower-house within the village. It had a colorful history and had served mainly as an administrative center and custom house for the Earl of Desmond. It also had been used as a prison, a workhouse during the famine, a gaol (jail) and was now the International Museum of Wine along with being an OPW treasure. If you want all the yummy details, you can read the placards I have placed in the photo gallery.

After a full day without having to do much driving, and getting my laundry cleaned while doing some quality touring, I retreated to my B&B to get a head start on my draft before dinner.

Speaking of laundry, let me fill you in on how travelers do laundry here in Ireland; you don’t! Sad to say there were no self-service Laundromats in any of the towns or major cities in which I stayed. Based on this and the fact my hosts unanimously informed me there were none to be found, I had resigned myself to using drop-off laundry services. Perhaps it was for the same reason there were no self-service gas stations in Oregon, whereas it established another tax base for the government to tap.

Perhaps this is a market yet to be gotten, and it may be a good way for me to get a foothold in Ireland and start a business. Maybe this could be my pot of gold, and the Leprechauns would leave me alone as theirs would be safe once again. Hmmm, I think this will require more research.

To see more photographs related to this post go to the Photo gallery and click on the links for “Kinsale”, “Kinsale Museum” & “Desmond Castle.” Please note the IMG_####.jpg files are in high resolution to enable clearer enlargement.

Tuesday, August 7, 2007 With this morning being my last at the An Cuasan, I took my time proofreading yesterday’s journal entry and getting packed, as today promised to be a light day. My new home was to be the Harbour Hill Farm B&B located in Kinsale, which was about 15 kilometers south of Cork City. It was also on my agenda to stop by the village of Dripsey, and since it was just a few kilometers off of the N22, it made sense to take care of that “straight away.” After that it was my intention to stop by an internet café in Cork City on my way to Kinsale to upload yesterday’s data.

Once the morning’s tasks were completed, I packed up, loaded the car and settled my bill with Sean, leaving him a token of my gratitude for his wonderful Irish hospitality. It had been my idea to leave a newly minted, golden one-dollar coin with all my hosts who made me feel at home in Ireland. The coin was the first in a series of presidential coins that would be produced and had our first President, George Washington, stamped on its face. Given as a keepsake, its value was to be more sentimental than economic.

As you may recall, I obtained a birth record for someone back home so he could use it for his Irish passport application, and Dripsey was the town at which his grandmother was born. Since he was to attend a huge family reunion in August, I figured it would be a good idea if he had some pictures of their ancestor’s hometown to share at the grand event.

With Dripsey being just a few kilometers east of Macroom and just north of the N22 on the R618, I was there in no time. It was a good thing I was actively looking for a town sign, as it would have been easy for me to drive through the village and be totally unaware. Driving well below the speed limit, so as to not miss any markers announcing my entrance into Dripsey, I found a sign in the tree line just off the road. It said, “Welcome to Dripsey. Home of the shortest Saint Patrick’s Day Parade of the 20^th century.”

Just a few yards down from the sign was the center of the village, as far as I could tell. Driving about to get a feel for the layout, it seemed to consist of two inns and a service station, all of which were closed. The place called The Lee Valley Inn and the service station had “For sale” signs posted, which seemed to make the town’s shortest parade even shorter.

The Weigh Inn looked closed, as it probably did not open until the late afternoon. Looking around for any signs of life, I saw a man standing next to a car in the parking lot next to the Lee Valley Inn. Driving over to him, I asked if he was from the area, to which he replied he was not, and was merely taking a break from driving.

Short of knocking on the doors of nearby residences, it seemed that I was out of luck for finding anyone who could tell me about the town. Had this been one of my own family lines, I would have been bold enough to approach people’s homes to conduct an inquiry. Realizing that photographs was about the only thing I was going to get out of this little visit, I snapped a few and was back on the road headed for Cork City.

As I neared the metropolis, the traffic got thicker and the sun got brighter. Fighting my way through the city that did not seem to sleep, I managed to get to the Merchants Quay car park near St. Patrick’s Street. Acting like a car-park vulture, I drove up the levels to the top and finally found a space on the roof. Something told me that Cork City was going to be a very busy today.

Without a doubt, the city was alive with people and it looked like a typical New York City day with herds of people and cars flooding the streets. Finding the internet café I had visited earlier, it was equally as busy as the streets outside. Fortunately there was one machine open and all was well. However, due to the high demand on the bandwidth, it was all I could do to upload my text data and low resolution photographs. It seemed that the high resolution pictures would have to wait until later.

Getting my connectivity fix, I paid my tab and was back on the streets in search of a couple of items on my shopping list. Once that was done, I worked my way through the crowd to the car park and was on my way out of town, albeit slowly.

Taking the N27 toward the Cork Airport thence catching the R600 to Kinsale, I found the road to be the usual, narrow two-lane road with no shoulder and lots of big trucks and slow tractors. As I was coming into town, I spotted a green arrow shaped sign pointing me to the Harbour Hill Farm B&B. It was always handy to have a little help in finding my destinations, and the sign was a nice surprise.

Pulling into the B&B I noticed the harbor not far away, which would mean a nice ocean breeze to cool the evenings with refreshing sea air. I went up to the house and was met by Sibhon, pronounced “Shi-von”, and she showed me to my room. Looking out the picturesque window, I could see the colorful countryside and the coastal waters just a few kilometers away.

As we chatted about the room and the internet access available, I dared to ask the question some of you may expect from me when I found out that they were a dairy farm. She put my mind to rest saying that they only had processed food in the house, adding that it was illegal for people to consume un-pasteurized dairy products. She could not understand why folks would want to anyway, as the milk from a cow was quite strong. Thinking back on my experience with un-processed milk, the word “strong” did not come to mind.

All I have to say is that if I see one Leprechaun, or even think there is one around, this red head will not have anything to do with any dairy products. Of course, they may use that as a diversion, and find another way to exploit my vulnerabilities. We’ll see who wins this round.

To see more photographs related to this post go to the Photo gallery and click on the links for “Dripsey.” Please note the IMG_####.jpg files are in high resolution to enable clearer enlargement.

Monday, August 6, 2007 After my visit to Wexford yesterday, I made a straight shot to my new B&B just west Cork City. The “An Cuasan” was located in a Ghaeltacht just off the N22 and outside the town of Macroom. On my way, I stopped at Cork City and found an internet café just off of St. Patrick’s Street, just a few doors down from the McDonalds. It was much nicer than the one I had used in Limerick back when I first arrived in Ireland, and they allowed the use of memory sticks. Getting my work uploaded and checking my email, it was nice to get my connectivity fix, having gone without it yesterday.

After a quiet breakfast this morning I was on the road again in a flash, beating my exit time yesterday by 30 minutes. Since my new hosts did not have internet access for me either, it seemed that I would have to find an internet café in Killarney, as that was my planned destination for the day.

Having made it clear to Elma that connectivity was my only requirement for a B&B, the only reason I could think that she was booking me in places without internet access, was due to unavailability. This would just have to be another added inconvenience attributed to my not having booked all my B&Bs for high season at least a year in advance. Since my future trips to Ireland will most likely be in the off season, as is my preference for touring, it should not be a problem to be looser with my bookings.

On my way in to Killarney on the N22, the road was narrow through the Ghaeltacht, but widened to a fast two-lane road with shoulders for the rest of the trip into Killarney. The landscape took a mountainous appearance and several groups of evergreen trees could be seen about. It was sad to notice the all-familiar clear cuts I had become accustomed to seeing back home in Washington. It was more noticeable here, as the occurrence of forests had been a rare sight.

With Ireland’s timber supply limited, all the homes built here are made with stone-based material, as that seemed to be their greatest natural resource. Timber on the other hand, was like gold here, with its uses limited to roofing and some internal framing. The high moisture level probably demanded the use of brick and stones as opposed to stick-built homes, as a result of the torrentially frequent rains that pelted Ireland relentlessly.

Making great time, I arrived at Killarney in about 30 minutes. It actually was nicer be on the road early, especially with today being a Banking Holiday, as I was able to slip into town quietly and secure a space in the town center car park without much competition. Killarney was a popular tourist destination, and today’s crowd was expected to be considerably large. Best of all, with it being a holiday, the parking was free and I could spend my Euros elsewhere.

The first thing on my mind was finding an internet café, which I found a stone’s throw away from the car park. After about an hour and some change, I had all the necessary tasks done and was on my way to the TIO. The use of the café cost me about €4.95 but it was worth the comfort of not having my entries backlog on me, and keeping up with my email. It was my hope that Elma would be able to find me better accommodations with internet access soon, as the cost of using an internet café could be quite expensive in the long run.

On my way to the TIO, I noticed that the population in the town had multiplied considerably, with the streets busting at the seams with tourists and cars. There was an Irish band set up in front of some shops at the heart of the city and people were gathered all about. The mob overflowed into the streets and created a traffic jam that could barely move. Several shops were closed but it was mostly the non-retail types, as the ones with their doors open for business were ringing up the sales like mad.

Once at the TIO, I found it equally as busy with people getting information, making bookings and browsing the souvenir shelves for that special treasure to remind themselves of their vacation in Ireland. Some were probably like me, who would shop for trinkets for those left behind, as sort of a way to appease the guilt of being privileged enough to make the journey. Let us not forget, that most of us worked hard to pay for the privilege and it wasn’t like we won the lottery. So there!!

Since the Ross Castle was just a couple of kilometers down the road from town, I decided to pay it a visit, as it would fit nicely into my day and not require a whole bunch of energy. Moreover, it would not cost me a penny as it was an OPW site, and the magic card could be played.

Hoofing it back through town, I stopped for a quick bite at an Irish Pub. (Imagine finding one of those here) Once back to the car, I could see a few car-park vultures waiting for a space to open up, and I was happy to provide the prize for a patient hunter.

It was only two kilometers to the castle but the density of people and cars in the city made for a relatively time consuming journey. Once out of town and at the castle car park, the crowd thinned about a bit, but it was still quite busy. The tourists at these types of sites seemed to come in surges, and like a patient surfer, I waited for the trough before making my move for the castle.

As I approached the castle grounds by passing through a wooded area, which was a part of the Killarney National Park, a tower poked through the tree tops and a lake became visible at its base. The lake had that cold blue look and the wind was blowing briskly across it, blasting the shores with cool, fresh air. As I crossed a small bridge, there were scores of ducks in a sheltered inlet from the lake, taking as much advantage of tourists as the local humans, accepting what ever donations that could be provided.

Built on a rock promontory, the castle had evolved in three phases, which had seen its ownership begin with the O’Donoghues clan, passing through several hands until it ultimately became OPW property and a part of the national park. The last owner, an American of Irish descent, had donated it and several thousands acres which constituted over 60% of the national park property.

As I got closer and took some photographs, the castle seemed to have parts missing, as was the case for most of the ancient buildings I had seen before. However, once inside it was like stepping back in time. The castle had been completely restored internally.

Approaching the reception counter and signing in, I asked about a tour and she told me it would not start for about 45 minutes. After signing up for the tour and asking if I could look about until it started, she denied my request, stating that the castle’s interior could only be seen by guided tour. Feeling mishandled, I supposed that she had to deal with some assertive tourists before and had to be firm or got failing grades in school for politeness. Easing my way out the door, I thought that at least I didn’t have to live with her.

Deciding to look about outside, I wandered the grounds taking some exterior shots of the castle, after which I went into the exhibit room to look at some information placards before the scheduled start. There was some time to spare so I could take a seat and rest my dogs before the 40 minute tour began.

When we were called to gather, I woman took us into the tower at the ground floor, and halted us in the “Guard chamber.” On my way in I saw the infamous gift-shop-ambush sign directing that people to not take any photographs once inside. It’s too bad, because it was a real treat to see a castle restored to its original condition, showing how it must have looked back in the day.

As the woman took us through the castle, she sounded very well versed in the presentation, and was quite clear and rather smooth in its delivery. Showing us all the intricate parts and various workings of the castle, it helped to make sense of all my previous observations of un-restored castles, and to see how the different architectural facets really functioned. Everything from nondescript notches in the wall, to slop holes in the windows had a function and now its purpose was clear.

What I found particularly fascinating, being an amateur home re-modeler and builder, was the authentic carpentry style they used to re-create the roof and floor structures. The wood was cut to shape and size using period tools and fastened using period techniques of joints and dowels. There were no nails, screws, glue or any other modern products used to build it. It just killed me that I could not get any photographs of these ancient works of carpentry.

If I thought I could trust them, it was a consideration to hire some Leprechauns to do my dirty work and get some pictures for me. But it would probably only be another way for them to foil me again. I’d probably get shots of them shooting me the moon or some other obscene gesture. The quest for my little green nemesis was destined to continue.

To see more photographs related to this post go to the Photo gallery and click on the links for “Killarney” and “Ross Castle.” Please note the IMG_####.jpg files are in high resolution to enable clearer enlargement.