My Trip to Ireland

  Sept. 25  (Day 0):  After making all the usual trip preparations -- packing, throwing out all the leftovers in the fridge, making sure the cats are well-provided with food and water (a neighbor will be looking in on them regularly while I'm gone) -- I load up the truck and set off for Albuquerque.  Since our flight out is at an Ohmygod-early hour of the morning, I'm making the 80-mile trip up there this afternoon and staying at the apartment of my traveling companion, Jeannine Washington, tonight.  We bid goodbye to her friends and relatives.  Jeannine's dad, apparently much concerned by the possibility that they won't feed us well on the planes, provides us with some BBQ chicken and bottled water to take along.  Thanks, Mr. Washington!  We watch the first hour or so of Doctor Who, then turn in.  (Hey, it's OK...  I've got my own VCR taping it at home!)  I almost expect to have trouble sleeping, what with all the excitement, but I manage.

    Sept. 26 (Day 1):  We're up at 6:00, and I don't get any coffee until we actually get on the airplane.  Once again, I contemplate the fact that, however much I love getting to interesting places, I sometimes really hate the actual traveling.  Once the coffee comes, however, my attitude begins to improve.  Yeah, so, OK, I'm a hopeless addict...
     The first leg of our trip -- Albuquerque to Cincinnati -- is pretty uneventful, except for a little turbulence at the end.  We have just enough of a layover in Cincinnati to snarf our BBQ chicken in the airport before boarding our next flight, to JFK in New York.  Coming in to New York, we get to see the Statue of Liberty from the air, which is cool.  (Despite living in New Jersey for most of the first 18 years of my life, I never did get around to doing the tourist deal in New York City.)  We have a bad moment at JFK when we get off the "connecting terminal" shuttle at the wrong place, but a short, somewhat panicky walk gets us to the Aer Lingus terminal, where our flight to Dublin will board, in plenty of time.
     The Aer Lingus flight is really pretty cool.  I have no idea whether the good service and the amenities provided on the plane are attributable more to the airline itself or just to the fact that it's a transatlantic flight, but, whatever the reason, I appreciate them.  Aer Lingus also gets a thumbs-up from me for "coolest airline safety lecture," with their cute little computer-animated video.  Their food's good, too.  I'm already noticing little differences that tell me I'm not in the US any more -- the fact that the Diet Coke cans are labeled "Coca-Cola Light," to mention just one example.
     The only annoying note is that, apparently, there was some issue about window seats (it seems we were both down as requesting one), and Jeannine and I end up sitting one in front of the other, instead of next to each other, which provides very little contact.  That's OK, though.  Jeannine, as far as I can tell, sleeps for a fair proportion of the trip, and I spend the time reading from that stack of books I never leave home without.

    Sept. 27 (Day 2):  It's hard to tell exactly when Day 2 begins, what with the time zone changes...  I do try to sleep on the plane, and rediscover the fact that there is no comfortable position on an airplane seat.  We land in Dublin around 6:00 AM, local time (that'd be 11:00 PM Mountain Time) feeling extremely jet-lagged.  We exchange our money and clear Customs without a fuss, then, following directions provided by the hostel we're going to be staying at for this first week, catch a shuttle bus from the airport to Dublin's central bus station.  Or at least, that's where it's supposed to go.  We discover at this point that Dublin's bus system is not exactly the most clear and user-friendly transportation system imaginable...  The shuttle bus actually drops us off several blocks from the bus station, which it then becomes our mission to find.  After a brief stop on a streetcorner to consult the map of Dublin I bought before leaving (which map turns out to be more annoying than useful and was to be quickly traded in for a more tourist-friendly "Street Finder" book), we set off determinedly in the direction of the bus station... leaving my luggage sitting there on the corner!  Yikes!!  Good thing Jeannine noticed!  What can I say?  It's the jet lag, I tell ya!  Apparently my constant mantra of "I'm a shift-worker; I can handle it!" has failed to convince my fatigue-fogged brain.  Anyway, eventually we do get to the bus station, only to spend the better part of an hour waiting at the wrong bus stop before we realize we have to walk a couple of blocks to the right one.  Sigh.
     Anyway, we finally arrive at the Avalon House hostel (a very cool old building), check in, and stow our stuff in one of their storage compartments.  Our room won't be ready until 2:00, and we are beat, so we just kind of crash on the sofa in the lounge for a while.  After a bit, we go for some breakfast at a little cafe.  By this point it's started raining -- something we'll quickly get used to in Dublin! -- and we return to the hostel to sit out the rain and wait for our room.  We read from our guidebooks, trying to stay awake.
     Finally, our room is available!  It's what Jeannine describes as "snug" -- just enough room for the two twin beds and an extremely compact bathroom-with-shower, but it's clean and pleasant.  We fall into those beds immediately.  I'm fully expecting that we'll both be wide awake at midnight, but instead we wake up briefly around 7:30, fall right back to sleep again, and keep right on snoozing away until 7:00 AM!  We may have pretty much lost our first day in Dublin -- now I understand why they tell you to expect that! -- but we are solidly on local time now, and the time change doesn't bother us in the least for the rest of our stay.

    Sept. 28 (Day 3):  After a light breakfast (yogurt, juice and a muffin) provided by the hostel, we are off to explore Dublin!  The idea for this first week is to spend most of our time touring the city on foot, and it works out very well.  Avalon House is right in the downtown area (one of the reasons we chose it), and most of the major tourist attractions and such are well within walking distance.  And we like the idea of strolling around the streets on our own.  Not only does it let us set our own pace and agenda, but we figure it'll give us a much more intimate feel for the city than we'd get from a seat on a tour bus.
     So, we hit the streets of Dublin.  Said streets carry considerably more traffic -- and pedestrians -- than Albuquerque, but actually don't seem too bad to me as compared to, say, Philadelphia (the only large city of which I have much experience).  Still, I'm glad almost everything's within walking distance (and that there's a bus service for the stuff that isn't), as it wouldn't thrill me greatly to have to drive here.  It's hard enough remembering to look in the opposite direction I'm used to before crossing the street!
     The streets themselves are kind of interesting to navigate, as most of them aren't laid out in any particularly organized fashion.  Even more interesting is the fact that, for some reason, they tend to change their names every few blocks.  At first this seems like it should be really confusing, but in fact it proves to be fairly helpful.  It's easy to pinpoint your location on the map to within a few blocks, even without checking for the names of the cross-streets around you.
     Anyway, so we hit the streets of Dublin.  Our guidebook (Frommer's Ireland from $50 a Day) has a couple of suggestions for walking tours of the city, and we pick one -- "Old Dublin" -- as being as good a way to start out as any.  Our first stop is Dublin Castle, where we get a guided tour.  "Castle" is actually a misnomer (although the present structure was built on the site of a medieval castle, one tower of which is still standing), but "palace" wouldn't be an utterly inaccurate description.  It is a very old building, and most of it's still in use by the Irish government, including (at least occasionally) some of the rooms that our guide leads us through.  One particularly large room is where Ireland holds its presidential inaugurations.  (It is on this tour, by the way, that I learn that both the current and previous presidents of Ireland have been women.  Sometimes I find myself thinking that the US is rather a backwards country in some ways...)  Other rooms include suites where the king and queen of England used to stay when on royal visits.  There is something kind of cool about the thought that I'm standing in a room where the king of England once slept.  There's also lots of antique furniture and other decoration on display here, and it's all really rather impressive.  Our last stop on the tour is actually under the building, where the remains of the original castle are visible.  Apparently these were only discovered in the 1980's sometime, when this area under the building flooded badly enough for water to start seeping into the tax offices above...  All in all, it's a really interesting place, and I'm already starting to get a strong sense of how Dublin is steeped in layer upon layer of history in a way it's kind of hard for an American to imagine.
     Our next stop is meant to be the Dublin Civic Museum, but we get a little lost looking for it (which seems odd, in retrospect, as it certainly doesn't seem as if it should have been hard to find).  Instead, we end up at the Tourist Info Center -- housed inside an old church, and itself a very neat building -- where we make a stop to , among other things, buy T-shirts to bring back to the folks at home.
     We do finally find the Museum, which turns out to be a rather small one, housed in an 18th-century building, and containing some interesting random stuff from Dublin's history (such as old signs and things).  There's also a big display on the churches of Dublin, including a lot of old church record books, some dating back to the Middle Ages.  We spend some time looking at these -- I find such ancient books fascinating and compelling for some reason, and Dublin was to prove itself immensely satisfying to my bibliophilic soul.
     Anyway, after the Civic Museum, our guidebook walks us right past the hostel, so we drop off our packages (mainly so they won't get rained on any more) and address the postcards we bought at the Dublin Castle gift shop.
     Next we get some lunch at a fish and chips shop.  Personally, I don't much care for fish, so I order a cheeseburger.  (Yeah, yeah, I know...)  It's actually a pretty good burger, with fried onions and, interestingly, cucumber slices instead of pickles (a substitution I rather like).  The "chips" are rather different from any American fries I've eaten...  Much "meatier," and with an interesting taste I find it hard to describe.  I also get some really cool, thick, very intense-tasting orange soda, which I am to quickly become addicted to and will drink pretty much constantly for the rest of our stay.
     The next stop on the itinerary is Marsh's Library, but we discover that it's closed on Tuesdays, so it's on to St. Patrick's Cathedral.  This is a very impressive building, done in what I find myself thinking of as the "pointy-stony" style of architecture from the Middle Ages.  I guess it's actually gothic, but whatever you call it, I like it.  The inside of the church is open to the public, and contains some exhibits on the church, as well as lots of statues and plaques dedicated to many, many people who I (rather cynically) conclude must have given them money over the centuries.  There is, in fact, lots of interesting stuff to see, but I end up cutting the visit a bit short when I, uh, experience a sudden attack of a common traveler's malady and need to return to the hostel to take some Imodium.  (My personal theory is that some joker at that cafe must've included a laxative in with my cheeseburger.  Or, as I joke to Jeannine, "Maybe it's being an atheist in a cathedral.  Maybe God has a sense of humor.")  Fortunately, the drug seems to do the trick -- I was to have no more troubles for the rest of the trip -- and in half an hour or so, we're back on the streets.
        Our next stop would be Christ Church Cathedral, but it's closed to visitors for the day by the time we get there (it being after 5:00).  We walk around the outside, which is interesting, if, to my mind, somewhat less impressive than St. Patrick's.  There's supposed to be somewhere around here where a piece of the original Dublin city wall is visible, but, though we wander around looking for it for a while, we never do manage to figure out just where it is.  After a while, we give up and just sort of stroll around... which turns into quite a nice (if rather aimless) walk.
     It's starting to get dark, so we make our way back to the hostel.  Jeannine is beat, but I make a run to a nearby convenience store for some food supplies.  The lunch meat doesn't sound too appetizing to me (onion and tomato loaf?), but I get some fruit and some junk food and stuff that'll do use nicely for a snack tonight -- neither of us is terribly hungry, somehow -- and a picnic-type lunch tomorrow.  When I get back to the hostel, I realize I'm beat.  Our vague ideas about sampling the local nightlife are quickly abandoned, and we spend the rest of the evening talking and planning what to see in the rest of the week.

    Sept. 29 (Day 4):  We have a little trouble getting ourselves out of the hostel this morning, as we seem to keep leaving things in the room that we need to go back for and suchlike...  But soon enough, we're off.  Our first stop today is Marsh's Library.  This is a very cool place.  It was built in 1701, the first public library in Ireland, and it's full of ancient, leather-bound books which give the place a truly wonderful smell.  (OK, I admit it -- I've always loved the smell of books, and as far as quality book-smell goes, this place definitely wins first prize.)  We are met at the door by a guy who might almost have been sent over from Central Casting in response to a call for a young librarian, so the wonderful atmosphere of the place is just about complete!  In addition to the volumes on the shelves (which visitors are, of course, not allowed to touch), there are also a lot of open books on display in glass cases, some of them dating back to the 15th century.  The theme of the exhibit is "orientalists," which apparently covers a lot of ground, as there are books on all sorts of subjects, from religion to astronomy.

     After the library, our next stop is the combination of the "Dublinia" exhibit and Christ Church Cathedral.  "Dublinia" starts out with a somewhat cheesy exhibition of scenes from medieval Dublin narrated by a tape machine you wear as you walk around.  Actually, the historical narrative itself is pretty interesting, but this particular display has a definite lame, tourist-trap kind of feel.  Fortunately, things are much more interesting in the little museum area upstairs.  In addition to a few display cases of artifacts, there's a large, three-dimensional model of the town in medieval times, which I find quite fascinating.  From there, we ascend a stone tower for some truly wonderful views of the city.  Then it's back down again and over to the cathedral.  Again, I don't find Christ Church quite as cool as St. Patrick's, but it's still pretty darned impressive in its own right.  Like St. Patrick's, it has a number of interesting objects on display.  The one that catches my attention most is the relic of some saint's heart, preserved for the ages in a heart-shaped iron container.  What a yucky thought...

     After leaving Christ Church, we mainly spend the rest of the afternoon wandering around the Temple Bar area -- a lively collection of streets full of shops, pubs, and other places of entertainment.  There's a pleasant little plaza area where we stop to eat the snack lunch we've brought with us, and then we go shopping.  I find a used bookstore right off -- one with a good science fiction section, no less!   (In fact, they even have a sci-fi collectibles store in the basement, but it's closed at the moment, alas.)  We also buy more souvenirs for the folks at home, and I splurge a bit and pick myself up an Irish wool sweater.
     After walking around for a considerable time, we arrive at St. Stephen's Green late in the afternoon.  This is a very nice park, right there in the heart of the city, and we hang out there for a little while.  After a bit more shopping, we eventually head back to the hostel for a while to unpack everything.  By this time, it's started to rain pretty hard, but we decide to venture out for some food.  We end up back on Grafton Street (one of the main shopping areas) at a place called Bewley's, which our guidebook recommends.  A glance at the menu posted outside suggests that it's a bit more expensive than the guidebook indicates, though, and tonight we opt instead for the self-service cafe upstairs, where we get some pretty good beef curry.
     After dinner, we stroll around some more.  Even though most of the shops are closed, this area of Dublin is still very lively after dark.  I particularly enjoy the street musicians -- tonight there's a guy out here playing the bagpipes.
     Eventually, we make our way back to the hostel, where again we realize we're pretty worn out, and make another fairly early night of it.

    Sept. 30 (Day 5):  We meet a new friend in the hostel at breakfast: a young woman named Mindy who is on an indefinite tour of Europe, and who we are to bump into a couple of different places later in the day.  This is kind of nice, as it gives us the feeling of actually knowing somebody in town...
    Anyway, our first destination today is Trinity College.  It's a good-sized campus, featuring some really cool old architecture.  I imagine that it would be an interesting place to study, although I can't help but think that it must be kind of strange to have tourists wandering around your school.  The main attraction here is the Old Library, and particularly, the Book of Kells.  Like Marsh's Library, the Old Library is full of antique books.  Unlike Marsh's, it has books stacked two stories high, but somehow it doesn't quite manage to achieve the same wonderful smell.  Once again, there are display cases of books: all of the ones on display here are from the 18th century.
    The Book of Kells itself its kept downstairs in a largely darkened room, in a case very carefully maintained under controlled conditions of temperature, humidity, etc.  The Book of Kells, if you haven't heard of it, is a beautifully illuminated manuscript containing several books of the Bible, produced around the 9th century.  If you have heard of it, well, I can testify that, yes, it is just as amazing as advertised!  The colors are wonderfully vivid, the detail amazingly intricate.  The thought of how much time and care and work must have gone into it is staggering.  Also on display here are three other very old illuminated books (though, impressive as they might be on their own, they do pale in comparison to the Book of Kells).  There is also an area with exhibits of various book-related artifacts, information on the restoration of the books (itself an incredibly meticulous process), and so on.
    After Trinity College, we move on to the National Museum, where there's lots of deeply fascinating stuff on display: prehistoric artifacts dating back many thousands of years, a section on Irish gold-working showing many beautiful gold artifacts, a large display of Viking stuff (much of which was dug up right in downtown Dublin!), and much, much more.  Apparently Ireland is a very rich place for archeology, not least because of an ancient habit of burying things -- valuables, bodies, perhaps religious offerings -- in bogs, which preserve these things astonishingly well.  I find it greatly intriguing to imagine the lives of the people who made and used all of these objects, so many centuries and millennia ago, and to wonder what they would think if they could see their jewelry and pottery and sewing needles on display here and now...  Anyway, we spend several interesting hours at the museum pondering such things, and we still end up not seeing nearly all of it: we pretty much skip the recent history section entirely.
    Reluctantly tearing ourselves away from the National Museum, we head to the nearby Natural History Museum with only an hour to spend before it closes.  This museum consists mainly of lots and lots of stuffed animals in glass cabinets -- which doesn't sound all that interesting, but proves to be strangely compelling.  Especially impressive are the skeletons of two giant Irish deer -- easily the size of moose! -- that greet us near the front of the museum.
    We regret not having more time to spend at the Natural History Museum, but discover that the National Gallery art museum next door happens to be open late today, so we pay it a visit.  Now, I'm not normally big on art museums, I admit...  I guess they tend to make me feel uncultured or something.  But I like this one better than most, as it's largely full of 18th and 19th century photorealist paintings: lots of landscapes and portraits and such, and much more up my alley than the majority of "modern art."  After a pleasant and leisurely stroll around looking at paintings, we have some dinner at the museum restaurant: Irish stew, some really intense chocolate cake, and the ubiquitous tea.  (I'm becoming well and truly hooked on tea this trip, as well as the funky orange soda!)
    After the art museum, I insist on stopping in a bookstore on the way back to the hostel, where I pick up a Terry Pratchett novel (long out of print in the US) that I've been looking for for years; also a history of Ireland, since I'm truly intrigued by the glimpses of it I've seen over the last few days; and Bill Bryson's Notes from a Small Island, about his travels in Great Britain, since I'm not going to get there myself on this trip...

    Oct. 1 (Day 6):  First off, we need to do some laundry, so we head down the street to visit the "All American Launderette" -- which turns out to be rather bizarrely named, as it resembles no laudromat I've ever seen in the States; the machines aren't even coin-operated.
    Once that task is done, the plan is to spend the rest of the day at Phoenix Park, the largest enclosed park in Europe at over 1,700 acres.  This is the first attraction we've visited in Dublin that's not in reasonable walking distance, so we catch a bus over there.  The weather, unfortunately, is bad: a steady rain accompanied by a chilly dampness that's much less pleasant than the sporadic showers we've had for the rest of the week.  Despite the weather, we do wander around a small section of the park, which is very beautiful, but Jeannine seems unhappy, and even I -- usually without enough sense to come in out of the rain! -- am daunted.  By mutual agreement, we end up cutting this expedition short, without even making it to the visitors' center.

    The bus back to the city center happens to let us off right near the National Museum, and Jeannine astutely points out that there's a nice little cafe in there, with warm, friendly pots of tea, and we happily move in there and out of the wet.  After we've dried off, we stay to visit the exhibits we missed the first time through: a collection of church artifacts (mostly from the Middle Ages), and an exhibit on modern Irish history (particularly the revolution).  The later section features lots of guns, uniforms and suchlike, as well as some truly disturbing photographs: English soldiers searching people in the streets, buildings in the center of Dublin reduced to rubble and ruins...
    After finishing with the museum, we go back to the hostel, where a quick get-warm huddle under our bedcovers ends up turning into a sort of inadvertent nap time...  Refreshed from the nap, we turn to the task of packing up our things for our departure from Dublin (although not from Ireland!) on the morrow.  Our luggage bulges rather alarmingly after all that shopping we did!
    That taken care of, we head out for some food.  This time we do eat at the restaurant at Bewley's.  It turns out to be a considerably classier place than we'd expected: when we ask the waiter for water, we're amused to be asked "Sparkling or distilled?"  Being rather lowbrow types, we're a little uncomfortable just at first, but rapidly loosen up and decide the place is very cool.  (And, all things considered, it turns out to be remarkably inexpensive.)  I have a guinea fowl dish, which is quite good, and a glass of Guinness, since I've been told that it would be an utter travesty to go to Dublin and not drink Guinness.  I'm not much of a drinker, and I've never liked beer in particular, but I find the stuff surprisingly palatable!  During dinner there's live music.  It starts off with a couple of guys doing various pop/oldies/classic rock tunes.  Not especially memorable, but not too bad.  Then comes the real highlight, however: traditional Irish dancers (think Riverdance).  They actually come out and and dance around between the tables, and are really quite impressive.  All in all, a very nice end to our last day in Dublin, and despite the day's minor disappointments, we go to bed feeling happy.

    Oct. 2 (Day 7):  Today begins Phase II of our trip, in which we'll be headed for County Galway, on the west coast of Ireland, for a series of guided hikes.  We check out of the hostel at 10:00, and, unwilling to make another bus ride burdened with our bulging luggage, we get a taxi to the airport, where we are to meet our group at 1:00.  Our taxi driver is very friendly, and he takes us right through Phoenix Park (to avoid traffic, or so he says), so we get to see some more of it, after all.  Yeah, he's probably taking us the long way to jack up the fare, but he does such a great job keeping us entertained and playing city tour guide that we figure he's pretty much earned it...
    After a bit of a wait at the airport, we hook up with our group.  Besides Joyce (our tour arranger, from England) and Christopher (our local guide), there are two other Englishmen, Keith and Brian, and two fellow Americans, Joan and Kate (although Kate, a friend of Joyce's, has been living in England while attending university).  Two more folks (Mike and Sue) will be meeting us in Clifden, the village which will be our base for the next week.
    The van ride to Clifden is estimated to take about four and a half hours, but ends up being more like six, due to traffic.  The seats are a bit cramped, so it's not the world's most comfortable ride, but we do get to see the entire width of the island this way, including some of those famous rolling green hills, many dotted with sheep-filled pastures separated by low stone walls.  (And, yes, even in October, I'm still impressed with just how green everything is.)  It rains off and on throughout the trip, and we see not one but two double rainbows.  As we near the ocean, the scenery changes: less flat or gently rolling pastureland and more topography.  And everywhere there is lots and lots of water...
    We arrive at the Dun Ri guesthouse --our accommodation in Clifden -- with a little over an hour to get ourselves situated before dinner.  The guesthouse is pleasant and well-kept, and our room is quite spacious.  After the no-frills snugness of our hostel room, it seems extremely luxurious (even though it does turn out that our room is one of the few not equipped with a bathtub).
    Dinner is at a nearby restaurant, where we are served a hearty and delicious meal of chicken stuffed with some kind of cheese filling.  Potatoes and vegetables are brought out in bowls and served family-style.  There's plenty of everything, and we all eat with great enthusiasm.
    After dinner we stop in a pub where there's live traditional Irish music, and I indulge myself in another glass of Guinness.

    Oct. 3 (Day 8):  After a hearty 8:00 AM breakfast at the guesthouse, we once more pile into the van, and head off to Kylemore Abbey, the starting point for our first hike.  But before the hike we take some time to look around the Abbey itself.  It's a wonderful old building, a sprawling neo-Gothic affair built in the late 1800's.  The story is that the man who built it had come into a considerable amount of money, and when he asked his wife what they should do with it, she said "build me a castle!"  So he did.  Today it's the home of Benedictine nuns, who run a school for girls.  Several of the rooms inside are open to visitors, though, and we look around these as well as watching a video presentation on the history of the place.  There's also a very cool little 17th century church -- a miniature version of a English cathedral -- which I find myself quite taken with.
    Then, it's on to our first hike!  It starts off pretty steep and strenuous, and both of us are a little worried that maybe we've signed up for more than we bargained for on this trip...  After a while, it becomes a little less steep, my body finally remembers its experience hiking in the mountains of New Mexico, and I find myself catching my second wind and really starting to enjoy myself.  The fact that this was referred to as the "easy walk" worries me, though!  It does quickly become apparent that this week is going to be much more challenging that we'd expected...  Part of the reason, I think, is linguistic.  Although we were aware that the British use "walking" in the sense that we Americans use "hiking," and we were quite clearly warned that the "walks" would be long and involve substantial altitude gain, the truth is that to American ears the phrase "walking tour" nevertheless conjures up visions of a leisurely stroll to the accompaniment of phrases like "And on your left, you'll see..."  Wrong!  Hiking in Ireland also turns out to be a very different experience than hiking in America's desert southwest, where pretty much all of my experience has been.  For one thing, there's very little in the way of trails.  For the most part, you're walking on grass or through bog mud.  Turns out this takes a very different set of skills than walking over bare rock and sand, and I'll end up falling on my butt a number of times before I really get the hang of it!  And Ireland is wet.  Perhaps I've simply been living in the desert too long, but the truth is, Ireland is wetter than I would have imagined it possible for any place to be that was not actually under water.  Everywhere the ground is saturated with water, utterly sodden.  Forget the mud, even the grass squelches underfoot.  (The country's "like a giant green sponge," as one of our English co-walkers eloquently puts it when I bring the subject up.)  And there are places -- many places -- where an ill-placed foot will leave you in mud up to your knees, or worse.  All of this is a fascinating new experience, but not one we're terribly well-prepared for.  I am quickly moved to start singing praises to the manufacturers of my Gore-Tex-lined boots, but Jeannine, who merely came equipped with an ordinary pair of hiking boots treated with a couple of coats of waterproofing, quickly discovers the miseries of wet feet on this very first trip.  (Fortunately, Joyce -- a true saint if ever there was one! -- has a spare pair of waterproof boots which she generously offers to loan Jeannine later, and -- thank goodness! -- they fit perfectly.)
    Is it all worth it?  Falling in the mud, wet feet, labored breathing and all?  Oh, yeah!  The views are wonderful: green hills, trees, grazing sheep, the shores of the ocean.  I find myself thinking, yes, this is the Ireland I came to see!  Even if I do have to spend a lot of time looking at my feet rather than the panorama around me...

    Still, we finish the trip as tired as we can remember being in a long, long time, and tremendously grateful for a hot shower and another excellent meal.  And we feel considerably better about such difficulties as we had on the walk when Joan (one of our fellow Americans) announces that tomorrow's hike-- which is, amazingly, supposed to be harder -- sounds like a bit much for her, and that she'd prefer to spend tomorrow at Connemara National Park with her watercolors instead.  There's no trouble or bad feelings about this on anybody's part, which is nice, and our tour leaders happily make arrangements for her.  After dinner, most of the others head off to the pub, but us three American weenies opt for bed, instead.  I, for one, am so utterly exhausted that I've been having trouble keeping my eyes open though dinner.

    Oct. 4 (Day 9):  Today's hike is up Benbaun mountain, the highest peak of Ireland's famous "Twelve Bens."  As advertised, it's a good bit longer and higher than yesterday's, though while parts of the climb get a bit ugly, I don't find it quite as bad in some ways.  The stony, scree-covered slope up to the top actually comes as quite a relief, despite its steepness.  This stuff we know how to walk on, and it's the one part of the hike where we not only hold our own with our British compatriots, but actually prove more adept than some of them.  Unfortunately, I find myself slowed up a bit when one of my bad knees begins acting up.  They always seem to pick the worst possible times, but I suppose I have been putting a lot of stress on them lately.  Though it doesn't prevent me from walking, there are times when every step hurts a little, and I consider turning back early on, especially when one of the others does so due to a pulled groin muscle.  But I decide that there's simply no way I'm going to let one balky joint stop me, and press on.
    Once again, the reward proves well worth the effort.  Not only is there a wonderful sense of accomplishment in finally making it to the top, but the views from up here are nothing sort of spectacular -- even better than yesterday's.  We spend some time up at the peak, taking pictures, eating lunch, and resting before making the descent.  On the way back to the guesthouse, we stop to pick up Joan at the national park.  Apparently she had a very nice day there, without wearing herself out or getting splattered with mud.  Imagine that!

    After dinner, Jeannine and I spend the evening playing Uno with some of the others.  It turns into the longest Uno hand in recorded history, and eventually we simply declare a time limit and go to bed.  I walks away with the victory, though!

    Oct. 5 (Day 10):  Fortunately for my knees (and probably also other parts of my body), today's schedule is much, much easier.  Our first stop is Omey Island.  We leave the guesthouse in time to get there at low tide, when it's possible to simply walk across an expanse of sand to get to the island.  We have a very pleasant walk there -- and it's actually a "walk" in the American sense, this time" an easy stroll, mainly along actual roads.  On this walk, we pick up another member for our group: a rather cute little dog who decides to follow us around for the rest of the morning!
    The most interesting -- if somewhat macabre -- sight on Omey is an area where ancient tombs have been eroded away by the sea and left human bones simply lying around on the shore.  We see them heaped in a couple of small piles, and scattered about underfoot.  (And, yes, the dog leaves them alone...)

On Omey Island

    After spending the morning at Omey, we move on to Connemara National Park.  After a break for lunch, we take in a video on the history and wildlife of the park, which is fairly interesting.  The scheduled walk is a steep climb up a rocky edifice called Diamond Hill, but most of us elect to remain on level ground for today and give the "hill" a pass.  Jeannine and I wander around the visitors' center, which proves very informative.  (We learn, for example, that the bog hereabouts gets approximately 1650 mm of rain every year,  but only about 550 mm of water evaporates from it every year.  Meaning the bog absorbs 1100 mm of water annually.  No wonder it's so doggone wet!)  After touring the visitors' center, we take a little "nature walk" along a truly lovely trail, scenic with waterfalls and a profusion of astonishingly green plant life.  We then amble around the park for a while, seeing the famous (and endangered) Connemara ponies and catching a glimpse of the hiking party through our binoculars as they near the summit of the hill.  After some tea at the park's little tea shop, we meet the other non-hikers and all retire to a nearby pub to await the walking party.  Later, another fine meal and a quiet evening in Clifden complete the pleasantly restful day.

    Oct. 6 (Day 11):  Bad weather prevents today's scheduled hike in the Maumturk Mountains, so instead we skip to the trip originally intended for tomorrow: Inishbofin Island.  This involves a pretty long ferry ride (more than half an hour), and the sea is rough enough that the ride is something of a tribulation for many.  I'm mostly OK -- I'm not generally too bad with seasickness -- but am definitely feeling a little unsettled in the stomach department by the time we arrive at our destination.  Once again, however, that destination proves to be more than worth whatever difficulties we've endured in getting there.  Inishbofin is a beautiful, lonely place: a series of wonderful contrasts between stark, rocky coasts and green sheep-filled pastures.  The weather continues to be bad, with rain for much of the day and extremely high winds swelling into sudden powerful gusts.  Somehow, though, the weather seems very fitting in this place, and there's something terribly appropriate about standing on one of those rocky sea-cliffs in the rain and the wind while solemnly gazing at one of the several markers memorializing those who have drowned here.  On a more practical note, we're well enough equipped for the wet weather that we don't really mind very much, except towards the very end of the day, by which time, cold and wet as we are, we're all feeling ready to return to someplace warm and cozy.  We elect to stop in a hotel bar to await our return ferry, only to discover that the hotel we'd been intending to patronize has closed, and we have to tramp fifteen minutes in the rain back to the one that is open.  Needless to say, when we get there a steaming mug of hot chocolate comes as quite a relief!  We do get a bit of a scare, though, as rumor in the bar has it that the sea's become rough enough that that ferry might not run today at all.  Lacking in dry clothes as we are, the idea of spending the night on the island is extremely unappealing, but fortunately the rumor proves to be a false one, and we embark on the ferry as scheduled.  The return trip, however, is even rougher than the outgoing one.  I choose to stand out on the deck instead of under the roof with the sane people, and end up getting pretty thoroughly drenched with sea water.  Keeping my eye on the horizon does help with the queasiness, though, and I even quite enjoy riding on the rolling waves... at least a first.
    By dinner, though, we've all recovered from the experience and have excellent appetites.  Dinner tonight is at a different restaurant than in the earlier part of  the week, but is every bit as good.  After the meal, Christopher teaches Joyce, Jeannine and me some card games: "Sevens," which is very simple and entertaining, and "45," which is so insanely complicated that I almost suspect he's simply making up the rules as he goes along.  Apparently this is an extremely popular card game in Ireland, however, and is taken very seriously here.  According to Christopher, it's been the cause of many a pub fight, and after several hands spent learning the difficulties of teamwork and strategy, I can see why...

    Oct. 7 (Day 12):  The weather is still bad today, but the die-hards among us decide to do the Maumturk hike anyway.  The rest of us, realizing that the view from the peak will be completely obscured by clouds, opt instead for a ground-level walk around Killary Harbor.  This is a nice, easy hike: an actual trail that's mostly flat, although there are a few rocky or boggy places.  Although the low-lying clouds never do clear, the rain stops early on, and we have a very pleasant time and enjoy some good views of the harbor, a narrow inlet that is described to us as "Ireland's only fjord."  We make excellent time on the walk.  Joyce, who drives the van around to meet us at the end, estimates that it should take us three hours or so, but we finish it in two and a half, including a stop for lunch, and meet her only a few minutes after she's started down the trail towards us.  It doesn't feel like we're hurrying, though.  Maybe it's just that this hike feels so simple and easy after those first two days!

    At any rate, we're left with a fair amount of time to kill before meeting up with the Maumturk hikers, so we pay a second visit to Kylemore Abbey, where we do some shopping in the (rather nice) gift shop run by the nuns and have some coffee in the cafe.  We leave there to meet the others right on time, and are back at the guesthouse early for the first time in the week.  Several people take the opportunity to visit the shops of Clifden.  I'm tempted by this, but I've had enough shopping at Kylemore, and so I take the opportunity for a long, relaxing shower with no one stealing the hot water!  (Our guesthouse, while generally very well equipped, was obviously never designed for half-a-dozen muddy, sweaty, muscle-weary hikers all coming in and wanting hot showers or baths at once.)
    After dinner, Christopher holds another card session.  He seems determined that we will all know the rules of 45 by the time we leave!  I think he's a little taken aback, though, by the fact that we keep beating him.

    Oct. 8 (Day 13):  Today's walk is along the Western Way, a path that varies between wide, level road and vaguely-defined trail.  It's a very easy walk, in that it's not steep, but very, very boggy (except for those stretches of roadway).  This hike does provide something of a change of scenery, as part of it is through pine forest, planted for timber.  (And we do see definite evidence of logging, including large piles of timber and one fellow with a chainsaw.)  The day is very foggy and rainy, and we end up getting the wettest we've ever been this trip (with the probable exception of my sea-water drenching on the Inishbofin ferry).  Joyce meets us at the halfway point with the van, where we're given the option of continuing on or retiring to a nice, dry pub.  One of the others immediately departs for the van, waving at our guide with a cheery "Bye, Chris!  See you later!"  Jeannine and I rapidly follow suit, shaking his hand and saying things like "Nice knowing you!  Have a good walk!" and make a beeline for the van.  Seconds later, we glance back and see the rest of the group following us!  It appears that even the English eventually reach the limits of their tolerance for walking in the rain.
    We do retreat to a nice pub and wrap ourselves around some Irish coffee.  (Did I say that I'm not really a drinker?  Funny how Ireland tends to change that...)  After a long, leisurely stay at the pub, we wend our way back to the guesthouse, where we have to face the sad task of packing up...  Which isn't all that easy, seeing as how almost everything is wet!
    After dinner and the completion of most of the packing, we spend the remainder of our last evening in Clifden at another pub, playing 45, listening to traditional music, and, yes, drinking Guinness.

    Oct. 9 (Day 14):  Breakfast is early this morning, as we have to leave Clifden in time for Joyce to catch her ferry back to England this afternoon.  By 2:30, we have arrived at Dublin Airport (our scheduled dropping-off point, although our flight out doesn't leave until tomorrow).  There we get an unpleasant surprise: it seems there are no rooms to be had in the city!  Yes, in an uncharacteristic lack of advance planning, we have neglected to reserve a room for tonight.  It shouldn't be too hard to find one at this time of the year, our reasoning goes, and we would have been right, except that there happens to be a big rugby game in town this weekend.  It begins to look like we're in for a long wait at the airport, and we've just about resigned ourselves to settling down in the airport lounge for the night.  I pay one more hopeful visit to the tourist information desk, however, and lo and behold, they've found an available room!  It's slightly more than we'd hoped to pay, but it sure as hell beats spending the night at the airport, and we snap it up.
    The place turns out to be a somewhat aged hotel.  The walls are kind of thin and the bathroom's small, but it's got beds to sleep in and a roof over our heads, and the staff are extremely friendly, and we're very glad to have it!  We take some dinner in the hotel pub, then retire to our room and turn on the TV, discovering to our delight that it's "Monty Python night" on BBC2!  Unfortunately, we don't get to see all of it, as long before it's over we've got to get some sleep.

    Oct. 10 (Day 15):  After breakfast at the hotel (included in the price of our room, and quite satisfactory), we are back off to the airport.  When we get to the check-in desk, there's a sign saying that passengers on our flight should "after check-in proceed IMMEDIATELY to the US immigrations desk."  This has a distinct do-not-pass-Go, do-not-collect-$200 feeling to it, so we proceed there IMMEDIATELY, as directed...  And find ourselves having to wait 20 minutes for the customs officials, then being shepherded through into a waiting area from which there is no exit, so we can't go back out and turn in our VAT-refund forms or change our money.  Sigh.  Well, as bureaucratic annoyances go, I suppose it could be a lot worse...  (And there's plenty of opportunity to change our currency during our layovers.)
    At any rate, we are soon bound homeward on a nicely uneventful flight, winging our way back to unpaid bills, work, and an avalanche of unread e-mail.  Time to start planning for the next vacation!
 

Back to Betty's home page