Kylemore Abbey, Connemara Nat'l Park, Ireland

Day 14

After another calorically challenging breakfast, we drove to Westport and stopped for tea and scones at a Main Street bakery. I checked the local book stores for the “Tipperary” book but came away empty handed. Back on the road we stopped at Kylemoor Abbey. For as long as I can remember there's been a large framed poster of the abbey hanging in our guest room. It was enormously gratifying to see the subject of this picture in real scale and in person. I felt a quick rush of nostalgia as well as a pang of sadness thinking about our home back in Arizona's high desert.

Further down the road we stopped at the Connemara National Park. Here we learned about the importance of the bogs and then took a short hike up one of the many park trails. High above the visitor center we sat on a bench for some time overlooking the lake while the distant mountains played tag with the slow moving clouds. It was ten or fifteen minutes before we heard the tell tale shuffle of hikers feet bringing our quiet solitude and reverie to a close.

Back on the road, we reached Oughterard, and spent the night in the Connemara Lake Hotel, the finest establishment this lovely little town has to offer. The Moulin Rouge suite contained a soft and spacious bed surrounded by red velvet walls. Very French. We weren't able to make use of the well furnished sitting room, but it was nice to have the additional space all the same. We settled into bed and were soon swept up in the excitement of the Brazil vs Chile soccer match. Later, while channel surfing, Carol found the movie Serenity had just started. It was one of our old favorites and we thoroughly enjoyed watching the cast of rouges and misfits do battle with the forces of darkness and deceit.

Carrowkeel Megalithic Passage Tombs

Day 13

Having checked out of our hotel, the general idea was to spend most of the day with Eamon and Paula before heading toward Galway. However, sitting in the hotel lobby over tea and scones, the ladies had different plans. They wanted to go off together and do some shopping. OK. Left to our own devices, Eamon and I decided to drive out to Strandhill and do a little beach combing before getting to the Strand House Bar to watch the much anticipated soccer match between England and Germany. It was the perfect setting in which to watch the match; surrounded by well-behaved fans and old world mahogany. Sometime during the second half, the ladies showed up and by 4 o'clock the game was over and it was time to take our leave once again. After one last stroll on the beach, the four of us said our farewells and Carol and I headed off on our next adventure.

We had plotted a course for Carrowkeel, a most spectacular neolithic tomb and burial ground. Of all the ancient sites we've visited, this is easily my favorite. So much so, I even contemplated staying the night in an adjacent field so we could continue our exploration in the morning light. Meanwhile, it wasn't easy finding the place. The directions were confusing and it took some creativity on our part to even get there, which we finally did sometime after 6pm. Like many such sites, amazingly we had the place to ourselves.

The cairns and passage tombs are well preserved and nothing short of magnificent. Although they had long since been looted, their relative intactness creates a moving, contemplative experience. Climbing to the top of the burial hill offered extraordinary views. Really incredible! According to experts, the tomb complex was built between 3200 and 2400 BC. What I so liked and appreciated was that we were able to go inside the tombs and explore the area without a guide or other groups of people. We could linger as long as we liked anywhere we liked without being prodded to move along. I practically had to drag Carol forcefully out of Cairn H as she was so enthralled with the beauty of its construction. Sitting outside Cairn K, the improbability of it all was overwhelming yet there it was in all its splendor, beauty and mystery. And what would life be like without mystery?

The rapidly descending darkness reminded us that we'd better get going, as we didn't yet have a room for the night and its always harder finding a place at night. Therefore, we pointed the Peugeot in the direction of Westport and hoped to find a charming B&B along the way. In Tubbercurry, I stopped at a take-away across from a B&B. There was no answer at the B&B so I figured we'd have to push on to Westport and check into a hotel. However, as is often the case in Ireland, the woman running the Take Away knew the owner of the B&B and the next thing I knew the doors of the B&B were swinging open and the lovely proprietress was showing us to our room.

Carrowmore, Strandhill, Sligo, Ireland

Day 12

We met Eamon and Paula in the hotel lobby around noon. They had driven over from Drumnakilly that morning and were staying in a nearby B&B as the Sligo Hotel was full. The plan for the day was to visit Carrowmore, a megalithic burial ground not too far from Maeve's mountaintop tomb. We arrived there in time to join a tour that was about to begin. The docent, as usual, was exceptional. There were tombs, stone circles, and dolmens at this site. The wonder and mystery of these ancient builders never ceases to amaze me. Given the time and the level of technology, these sites are the equal of anything produced today. Extraordinary people producing extraordinary structures.

Afterward, we continued further west out to Easkey, to watch the surfers and walk the beach. We explored the ruins of a deserted Norman keep that must have for centuries functioned as the eyes and ears of the local lord. Now, sadly and slowly the tower is falling apart and will no doubt be nothing more than a large heap of stones in another century or so.

Back at the Sligo Hotel we had dinner in the downstairs restaurant and watched the World Cup soccer match. Since being in Europe, both Carol and I had got caught up in the excitement. Eamon, of course, was an old hand, knowing the intricacies of the sport and explained the various cards and rules as the game progressed. Unfortunately, in this particular match, the USA was defeated by the Ghana team in what I felt was atrocious officiating. Had the playing field been a little more level, I thought team USA stood a good chance of making it to the finals. Oh well, 2014 is not far off.

Later that evening we walked into the old town in search of a pub featuring traditional Irish music. Owing to the late hour, we were not particularly successful. The one establishment we did enter was filled mostly with drunken males and smelled heavily of cigarette smoke and stale beer. Not being a drinker, no matter how good the music, I just could not overcome the environmental hazards necessary to push myself over the threshold. It was a nice walk through town, nonetheless.

Back in the hotel room, I switched on the TV and found Shakira performing in concert. She is one of Carol's favorite acts, so much so, that Carol was inspired to start dancing around the room shaking and spinning, tossing off one article of clothing after another. Much better than any stinking pub.

Maeve's Cairn, Sligo, Ireland

Day 11

The Cafe de Paris is located directly across the street from our hotel. Instead of the usual overwhelming Irish breakfast, we enjoyed a more simple fare of tea and scones while chatting with the young waiter.

Afterward, the first order of business was trying to locate “Tipperary”, a novel by Frank Delaney. I had just finished reading “Ireland” by the same author, which I thoroughly enjoyed, and therefore wished to continue in his good company. All things considered, I thought this would be a relatively easy task but to my chagrin not a copy was to be found in any of the bookstores. However, the stroll through the alleys and winding streets of Sligo was pleasurable in its own right. This is a real walking town. The River Garavogue wends its way through the city and is part of the scenery here, with many shops and cafes lining its canal.

After a fine lunch we drove out to Knocknarea, near Strandhill, in search of the mythical Irish Queen Maeve's tomb. After several wrong turns we finally located the small parking lot where the 45 minute hike to the top the of mountain would begin. The local tradition is that visitors pick up a stone along the way and when they reach the summit, add it to the millions of other stones that make up Maeve's cairn. Maeve, according to legend, rests undisturbed beneath this massive pile of stones, protected by the fairy folk who are now her devoted subjects.

Reaching the top, after an uphill climb past many stone walls and sheep, we were greeted by incredible sweeping vistas of the sea to the west and lush green valleys and lakes behind us. The flatness of the summit made the construction of the tomb much easier. My first impression was that it looked like a nipple on top of a massive tit. Seeing that it was a matriarchal tomb I didn't think the comparison all that far off. Carol, I think, had a different impression. Anyway, I slowly made my way to the very peak and took in a quick 360. If in fact Maeve was buried below, she sure did have a spectacular resting place. We later learned that of all of Ireland's ancient tombs, Maeve's was the only one known not to have been looted. The two previous sanctioned archeological digs had ended in failure when they either ran out of funds or patience. Someday in the future there might be some new scientific breakthrough that will allow a non-invasive search of the tomb, but for the time being it seems as though the fairy folk are truly holding their own.

Sligo Town, Ireland

Day 10

We arose this morning surrounded by horses. Eamon rents his fields to local grazers and has the pleasure of this sight on occasion. Ah, country life. It wasn't easy but we finally decided it was time to leave Eamon's house and generous hospitality to get about seeing the rest of Ireland. We drove through miles of lovely rolling hills with sheep dotting the landscape, on our way to Sligo Town. I had fond memories of Sligo from my last visit back in 1969. Now I wondered if I'd even recognize the place when I saw it. Rolling into the center of town was as new to me as if I had just landed on Mars. The only landmark that was vaguely familiar was the Great Southern Hotel where I believe I stayed with my family all those years ago. So much so I was tempted to talk to the receptionist and ask if I could see the register for August, 1969.

Anyway, after a leisurely evening stroll through the old town we located the Sligo City Hotel and checked in. It had a great old world feel about it and was everything we had hoped for. Centrally located, we could simply leave the car in the private parking lot and get around the city on foot. Tonight's excursion brought us to a little Italian restaurant called the Bistro Bianconi where we had a spectacular dinner. Carol thought it was the finest Italian she'd ever had.

Sligo at night has a charm of its own, and we breathed it in on our walk back to the hotel. After saying goodnight to the swans in the river, we went up to our room for a good night's sleep.

Derry, Donegal, Northern Ireland

Day 9

The day's plan called for a trip to Derry and then a drive along the rugged coast of Donegal. After a late but hearty breakfast we started off. The trip up to Derry was relatively straight forward on good roads. I found a place to park just outside the walled part of the old city. Entering through an ancient archway was quite moving especially considering the recent Troubles having to a large extent taken place here. However, from our brief inspection, things had quite obviously improved. The shops were busy, the people friendly and there were no signs of the damage that the bombings had inflicted. At one point, we were informed, over 80% of the buildings had suffered some damage at the hands of one or other of the two warring factions. Carol felt a particularly vibrant charge about the city, and so went into a local music shop to talk about the early punk bands who hailed from Northern Ireland. While discussing The Undertones, she happened to meet a cousin of the O'Neill brothers working there in the store. Small world, Ireland.

After tea and scones, we climbed the parapet of the city walls and had a walk back in time. There were plaques commemorating this or that event, mostly atrocities, seemingly at 10 foot intervals along the entire length of the mile long wall. Overlooking the Bogside, one can only hope that the next generation will have an opportunity to live in peace and not have to fight the wars of their fathers. In spite of the city's past history, Derry has a lot of things going for it. It is certainly one of the more picturesque towns in all of Ireland. Keeping fingers firmly crossed.

As we were finishing our stroll along the wall, a slight drizzle began to fall necessitating a change of plans. Leaving the car park, it became apparent that with the current weather conditions it was probably not the best time to drive the scenic Donegal coast, however evocative the low lying clouds might be. We did visit the town of Donegal itself with its beautiful castle and river, then drove to the famed fishing village of Killybegs, walking along the pier, examining the numerous fishing vessels while being battered by a fierce off shore wind. The life of a fisherman is no picnic. They are often forced to operate in the most appalling conditions. It must be in their blood.

On the way back to Eamon's we stopped at several roadside attractions admiring the cliffs and rugged outcrops that dotted the landscape. Not many lush pastures in this part of the country.

Ulster Folk Park, Omagh, N. Ireland

Day 8

Paula' birthday. Happy birthday, Paula.

Before going off to tour the Ulster American Folk Park, where Paula works, Eamon decided it was time to put a harness on Jack and take him for a spin around the yard. Jack is the donkey that Eamon recently acquired to go along with Champ the dog and Spring, the living lawn mower in the shape of a goat. Eamon has a real affinity with animals. He has managed to get all of them to come when he calls as well as perform various tricks as is the case with Champ. Summoning Jack, Eamon put a bridle on him and was soon sitting on his back prancing around the yard. He didn't stay aloft too long contenting himself with a brief break-in period in order to get Jack acquainted with the routine. I fully expect to see Eamon riding Jack around his property the next time we visit.

It was a short ride to the folk park and we thoroughly enjoyed the museum and assorted exhibits. The very successful and wealthy Mellon family emigrated to America from these parts and made a sizable donation to make the park possible. The quaint, thatched Mellon house is in its original spot and the park was built around that. The number of tour buses in the parking lot gave some indication of its popularity. Anyway, once the park closed and Paula was off work we all returned to Eamon's house to freshen up a bit before venturing into Omagh for a grand celebratory dinner at Rue's, one of the finer dining establishments the town has to offer. A fabulous meal and another great day with good friends.

Beaghmore, Giant's Causeway, N. Ireland

Day 7

June 21st happens to be our wedding anniversary, nine years and counting. Being the summer solstice we decided to spend part of the day at the nearby Beaghmore Stone Circle just outside of Cookstown. We didn't arrive until the early afternoon; however, we were just in time to see several people in ancient ceremonial looking garb leaving the premises. After about fifteen or twenty minutes spent examining the three distinctly intertwined circles, we concluded that we had the place to ourselves and would unlikely be disturbed. Therefore, we lay down in one of the more secluded circles and decided to perform an ancient ceremony of our own. Afterward, we lay in the grass peering up into the sky, wondering about all the other types of activities that must have occurred within these stones. Unfortunately, the stones we not speaking today so we had to ruminate along the lines of our own imagination. Someday, maybe a power grid will shift and the secret mysteries be revealed, but for now we had to content ourselves in the knowledge that we had somehow entered the invisible ledger and added our essence to this circle of stones, and will in some small way forever be a part of this ancient, mystical site.

It was with some sadness that we had to end this reverie, but we still had many miles to go and several more sites to visit. Back in the car we headed further north up to the world renowned Giants Causeway. Before we got there we had to stop and take a quick tour of the Dunluce Castle, situated on the cliffs overlooking the ocean. Now mostly a charred wreck, the remaining ruins suggest that this was once one of the finest castles in the land. The setting and the beautiful stone work is still exquisite. Seems a great shame that all the time, expense and work to build such a structure is laid to waste over some kind of disagreement, whether it be religious or political. Someday, one has to hope that such deprecations will be part of our barbaric past, not to see the light of day again. Well, maybe.

Anyway, it was now late afternoon when we pulled into the parking lot overlooking the Giants Causeway. The walk down to the actual stone causeway, purportedly linking Scotland and Ireland in the mythical past, was every bit as impressive as the guide books described. Once down at the shore, we climbed up and on to the basalt rock columns in some awe and wonder. Above us were incredibly steep cliffs with numerous walking trials making the park a hikers paradise. This was one of the places I'd like to return and spend more time exploring. Not sure about the legendary giant, Finn Mac Cool, nor the problems with his Scottish counterpart, but it's the kind of place that gives wings to dreams.

We lingered as long as we could along the water but even in Ireland the sun eventually dims. As I was not yet completely comfortable driving on the left side of these frighteningly narrow roads, I had hoped to get back to Eamon's house before dark. This was of course not to be the case. No matter what the map indicates, it takes twice as long as the mileage would lead one to believe. For example, a 60 mile trip doesn't take 1 hour, it takes 2 at the very least. Therefore, now nearing midnight, we were fortunate to find a Chinese take away open in the vicinity of Draperstown. All this hiking and climbing had made us both quite hungry. Not exactly the elegant restaurant dining experience I had hoped to conclude the day with but I think the natural beauty of all that we had seen during the day was compensation enough.