Dinner the night before had been fun – we were entertained by some of live Irish music and a trio of Irish dancers. Lots of laughing and teasing and good food and drink. And then it was back to the hotel to pack and get ready for the journey home.
Saturday. My last morning in Ireland.
What else can I say? Other than I had to make sure everything was ready, I had showered and dressed. Then, with all my luggage in tow, I made my way down to the restaurant for my last breakfast in Ireland. It was an early trip to the airport, which is always best for checking in one’s luggage and going through the security check points.
I also went through customs at the Dublin airport, prior to getting to my gate. I was prepared to do this when I landed in San Francisco, but because the customs check-point was in the Dublin airport, I didn’t have to. I actually think this is a far more efficient way of doing things – you have the security check-points, then customs, all of which are designed to prevent trouble from getting on the plane.
On the flight back to San Francisco, I finally got to see The Martian (2015) and one other film, before I settled in for a long nap.
On the flight to Dublin, however, I treated myself to The Hobbit (2012) and The Desolation of Smaug (2013).
How else to start an unexpected journey?
I enjoyed writing about my trip to Ireland. I was able to recall and embrace certain moments that I’d almost forgotten. It seems to have been an enjoyable read for many.
After we left Kilbeggan Distillery, we traveled back to Dublin. We were given the option of staying in the city for a couple of hours or going straight on to the hotel, to clean up and rest before dinner. Some of us (including yours truly), elected to spend a couple of hours in the city before going onto the hotel. The rest of the group went on to the hotel.
I joined a couple from the group and we walked along the streets, exploring some shops. I found some coins on the sidewalk, but half a block later, gave it to someone who needed it more. We had a specific time to meet back up with our tour driver, so even though it felt like a leisurely pace, it was actually the opposite.
I didn’t get many pictures here, either. Again, too much to see and observe than to just point the camera and take pictures. I did manage to get a couple of pictures of Dublin my first day, however, and I’ll share one here:
St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Dublin, Ireland.
I was the only one of thirty-five people on the tour to be traveling by myself. I knew no one, not on the tour or in Ireland. If I’m very lucky and keep up my efforts in tracing my family history, I may find relatives in the Emerald Isle.
Friday was my last full day in Ireland. Without really thinking about it, I had chosen to make this journey between St. Patrick’s Day and the centennial anniversary of the Easter Rising(1). Had I been a little more aware of the historical significance of the dates, I would have found a way to stay on awhile longer.
We left Galway that morning, after breakfast and headed back towards Dublin. On the way back, we made a scheduled stop at KIlbeggan Distillery. As we pulled into the parking lot, an official greeter arrived to meet the bus. He exchanged hellos as we disembarked, taking time to make each of us feel welcome.
The Kilbeggen Distillery Official Greeter.
After his warm greeting, the very friendly feline made sure we found our way to the sign, which showed us how to get on with the tour. We made our way down a narrow passage way to the main street – another sign directed us through a gate and we soon found ourselves in a kind of courtyard, which featured a cafe-type space (closed) and gift shop.
The main entrance sign, directing us to the correct route for our tour.
Once inside the distillery, we were greeted by our tour guide, who showed us the intricacies of how Irish whiskey was made. We were even given a free shot. Because it was also Good Friday, they weren’t allowed to sell us any alcohol. After that free shot, I was mightily tempted to put in an order, so it was probably a good thing I couldn’t buy it right then. (The temptation has long since worn off.)
This is a fully functioning water-wheel.
I have the shot glass – they let us keep that, if we so chose. I so chose, and it is one of my prized belongings that I brought back with me.
A Kilbeggan shot glass.
I am not a whiskey drinker, although I have had a shot or two. The shot I sampled at Kilbeggan was delicious and fiery and warmed me to my toes. I wish I could remember what, exactly, we were served, because I’d like to sample it again. Also, I am the kind of person that likes to share the knowledge.
Drinker of whiskey or not, I would encourage a visit to Kilbeggan Distillery, if only to see how it must have worked centuries ago. Something for the history buffs to enjoy.
*****
(1) The Easter Rising of 1916. For an abbreviated version of events, see the film Michael Collins (1996), starring Liam Neeson.
As I’ve been writing out these posts about my trip to Ireland, I’m catching memories of things we did en route to wherever we were headed next. I remember at point, we were on a ferry, crossing a channel. I know at one point, we had a stop and I got my first cup of coffee the entire time I was there. For my caffeine fix, I drank mostly black tea.
On Thursday, our regular driver had the day off, so we had a guest driver take us to a tour boat that shuttled us up the only ‘fjord’ in Ireland. It was a short trip, but the sights were beautiful, even with a sharp wind.
There was a cafe on board, so my tour mates treated themselves to coffee or whiskey or some other concoction. I treated myself to an Irish Hot Chocolate – it’s like an Irish coffee, but with hot chocolate. And I got whipped cream on it. Yummy!
The guest driver and I spoke most of the cruise, discussing ancestry and Ireland. He indicated quite strongly that if I had any relatives there, they were likely in the same place where my great-great grandparents had lived before making their journey to America. It goes without saying that it was commented on that I was clearly very Irish, so much so, that I could blend right in with the natives.
There are so many of these little moments, that I wish I’d had the foresight to keep a journal while I was there. Something to remember for next time. And there will be a next time. I don’t know how or when, but I will be going back to Ireland. Hopefully, I’ll find a way to stay longer and make stronger connections.
After two nights in Killarney, we spent two nights in Galway. The previous two posts, visiting the Cliffs of Moher and Cong, were day trips to see more of Ireland. Let me just say that when you go on a tour, they pack things into every moment of each day. Which is a great way to first visit a foreign country.
I did not get any pictures of Galway while we followed our guide, though I did manage to video some street musicians playing. I’m not able to post them here at the moment, but will see if I can find a way to do it via another source. The music was lively and haunting and beautiful – the closest I’ve come to hearing it here in the states is at my local pub and wine bar.
Up to this point, I’d found the weather quite comfortable. It ranged from 35 to 50 degrees every day and I was warm enough wearing just a sweater. The rest of my group had bundled up in heavy coats, mufflers, hats and gloves. Galway changed that within five minutes. I finally put on my heavy coat, thanks to the ice-cold wind coming in off the water.
In some ways, I regret not taking more pictures. There was so much to see and experience, I didn’t want to separate myself from any of it by looking through a view finder. I constantly felt like I was on the verge of something – a discovery, a meeting, something. I’m not sure if I did and haven’t pieced it together yet, or if it’s waiting to reveal itself later on.
Perhaps it’s a mystery I can only unravel by going back to Ireland.
Village across the bay, near Skellig Michael Information Center.
At one point, we were scheduled to go to Skellig Michael, but due to poor weather and ocean conditions, that was cancelled. We did, however, spend some time at the information and gift center, had lunch and watched a short film about the island. If you’re puzzling over why that name sounds so familiar, it would be due to the fact that it’s where Rey found Luke Skywalker at the end of Star Wars: The Force Awakens.
So, on we went to Cong, which is also famous for cinematic reasons, namely the Maureen O’Hara and John Wayne film, The Quiet Man (1952). Below, is the tavern where Barry Fitzgerald’s character has a pint so often, that his horse knows to stop there before passing on by.
Exterior of the tavern, as seen in The Quiet Man.
Most of the exteriors you see in the film were shot on location in Cong, but through the magic of film-making, the geography was rearranged just a wee bit. If you watch the film and then visit (or vice versa), you’ll get a slight disorienting feeling of things not quite matching up between real life and the film. And that’s okay – that’s the beauty of it all.
Exterior of the vicar’s house, as seen in The Quiet Man.
Cong is a beautiful village that retains much of the charm that was surely there even before John Wayne, Maureen O’Hara and the film crew even arrived. Many of the locals were given background parts – in fact, the gentleman leading the tour of Cong had a relative in the film, his father, I believe.
The Quiet Man Museum, replicated to resemble the actual cottage.
After the tour, we set off for a pub for lunch. We had to put in our choices early for either pasta or fish and chips. I chose the fish and chips – how could I pass that up when the fish had been caught that morning? I have to say, it had to be some of the best fish and chips I’d had in a long while.
There was a TV on, which isn’t at all surprising for a pub. But instead of sports or local news, a movie was playing that seemed awfully familiar. I realize it’s a bit washed out, but I hope you can make out who the actors are. 😉
Playing at the pub where we had lunch. Coincidence? I think not.
It was a lovely place to visit and one I hope to see again.
On Wednesday, we left Killarney and traveled north-west towards the Atlantic and the Cliffs of Moher. Right, I know, it sounds strange to write ‘west’ and ‘Atlantic’ in the same sentence, but it’s really a matter of perspective.
The Cliffs of Moher, to my left as I look out at the Atlantic Ocean.
It was one of the few times that the sky was clear and blue, that rain did not threaten to shower down. I wouldn’t have minded the rain, but I enjoyed the sunny day. There were a number of shops built into the hill, an information center and a restaurant and museum. This greets you as you pull into the parking lot.
The footpath winds its way up to a stone wall and from there splits into two directions – left, towards the cliffs, and right, towards the tower. Although not steep, it is a work-out and I was a little out of breath when I got to the top.
That’s when I took the above photo of the cliffs. I didn’t feel much like going to the left, so I made my way to the right, towards O’Brien’s Tower. As I walked, I encountered a couple visiting from France – it tickled me that they thought I was ‘local’, meaning, Irish citizen (1). I was quick to correct that impression, but we had a good laugh about it and then I went on to the tower and they went back down towards the information center.
O’Brien’s Tower, to my right as I look out at the Atlantic Ocean.
There was so much to take in at each stop, that even as I’m writing this post about it, I know I’m not getting all the details in. Eventually, I left the tower and made my way to the information center, going upstairs to the restaurant for lunch.
Irish stew. I’m drooling just thinking about it. A little bit of heaven in a bowl. I may have to do a post solely about my culinary experiences.
Right. Back to the Cliffs of Moher.
Looking back on it, I remember feeling at peace. I was alone, but not lonely. It was a beautiful day and I made little connections here and there. I’m sitting here, reliving those moments and I know that someday, I’ll go back.
*****
(1) Must be that red hair, green eyes and fair complexion of mine. 😉
After Blarney Castle, we went on to Killarney, in county Cork. I don’t recall much of our first night there, other than a scrumptious dinner and meeting up with a couple of the tour members in the hotel pub and listening to live music. There’s always music in Ireland, no matter where you go and it’s beautiful.
On Tuesday morning, we went on a tour of Killarney National Park, which you can only access by horse and cart, bicycle, on foot or on horseback. We were lucky enough to be taken through the park by horse and cart, or jaunting.
I learned from my cart’s jarvey (driver) that he is charged with a couple of horses to train and work with and they are the horses that he drives until they are retired, either due to age or other reason. The horses are also rotated around, so that they get a proper amount of rest and relaxation, so that they don’t sour (1).
The park is more than 25,000 acres (that number is correct) and is protected space for deer and other animals that make it their home. In the middle of the park is a lake, called Lough Leane and on this lake is an island, of sorts, connected by bridge to the rest of the park. On this island is a castle – in order to get to it from the pony carts and the path through the park is a bridge.
From the bridge leading to Ross Castle.
Even before you cross the bridge, you are confronted with this view of Ross Castle (image below). It calls up all sorts of imaginative ideas about events that might have unfolded here or ended up here. On the day we visited, it was overcast and cool – I seemed to be the only one who was comfortable with the weather, which ranged from 38 to 49 degrees. Everyone was bundled up in jackets and mufflers and gloves – I wore only a sweater for warmth.
Ross Castle, Killarney, Ireland.
To our left, as we approached the castle, was a parking lot – this is where we met up with our tour bus driver. Our next adventure was the Ring of Kerry, which started from Ross Castle and wound its way to the other side of the lake.
If I remember right (and it’s been nearly a year since I made the trip), the Ring of Kerry is about 180 kilometers, which, translated to miles, is about 112. That would make the drive about two, two and half hours. Given that I was on a tour, we made a lot of stops, to get out and stretch our legs and look around, have tea and interact with some of the locals. This made the actual drive of the Ring of Kerry longer – perhaps most of the afternoon.
A stop on the Ring of Kerry.
On one such stop, an older gentleman had some baby goats.
I almost brought one home. Seriously, how could you not love a baby goat? Even a grown goat is pretty cute – also, they’re natural weed eaters and, if they’re female, can provide milk. Yes, they can get a little obnoxious, but – goat!!! (2)
We ended the day with dinner at The Jarvey’s Rest, where we were treated to excellent food, even better music and some traditional Irish dancing. One of the songs performed was Galway Girl, a popular song made even more so thanks to the film P.S. I Love You (2007).
Killarney is one of the places I would gladly return to. Then again, there hasn’t been any part of the trip I wouldn’t go back to.
Yes, it was that magical.
*****
(1) Any inaccuracies I may have made are mine and mine alone. For more information about the jaunting tours, follow the link: Killarney Jaunting Cars.
(2) I’m someone who, most of the time, finds animals to be better company than people.
After our time in Cobh, our tour continued on towards Blarney Castle, near Cork. Our bus parked near a series of shops, a couple of restaurants and a pub, where I got fish and chips for lunch and a pint of Guinness for dessert.
Then we set off to begin the tour. The entrance to the castle grounds is next to the gift shop and where you’ll also come back to not only shop, but exit. Looking back on it, I suppose I could have gotten more pictures, but I wanted to experience everything first-hand, not through the view-finder of my camera.
I took this picture at the beginning of the pathway leading towards the castle. It seems rather imposing, sitting on the hill like that, doesn’t it?
Blarney Castle
There’s a little creek that runs through the grounds and bridge to cross it. I tossed a coin in and made a wish at that bridge, joining many others. No, I’m not telling you what my wish was – it would defeat the purpose of making it.
It is a bit of a walk to get to the castle itself. Although it’s not steep and the pathways are kept level and free of holes, there are hand-rails for assistance and, in some places where needed stairs. It’s a lovely walk – we had a few hours to spend, taking this tour, so I took my time getting to the castle, listening to the birds and water and people.
This next picture is of the tower where the Blarney Stone is. If you look carefully, you can see iron brackets at the very top of the tower, above the top window. Those brackets are also on the other side of that terrace – that’s where the Blarney Stone is.
The tower of the Blarney Stone.
The climb doesn’t end once you get to the castle. Nor is it straight up that tower to the Blarney Stone. Nope, you have to climb a winding, narrow, occasionally claustrophobic route to get to the top of the castle. It continues to wind its way around, giving you panoramic views of the grounds (a shot I definitely should have gotten) before you finally get to the Blarney Stone for a quick kiss and the resulting gift of eloquence.
All of that takes about 10 or 20 seconds. Then you have to wend your way back down to the ground. This is a little easier and there are a lot of hand rails for the descent. Also, it’s not nearly as claustrophobic going down as it was going up. This was a relief to me, though I suspect the castle had been designed that way for a purpose.
At the gift shop located at the castle entrance, there’s a photograph to commemorate the act waiting for you, should you choose to get it.
Yes, I got my photo, commemorating it. No, I’m not gonna share. That’s a treat you’ll have to experience for yourselves, should you ever find your path ending at Blarney Castle.
J. J. Brown, Wordslinger 
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