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.

Marble Arch Caves, Bundoran, Northern Ireland

Day 6

We managed to get up at a reasonable hour as the four of us were planning a visit to the Marble Arch Caves just outside of Enniskillen about 2 hours drive from Eamon's house. The caves fantastic. They were well lit with many interesting and otherworldly formations. There's something strange and compelling about actually being deep within the earth.

It was late afternoon by the time we emerged form the caves. Eamon thought our next destination should be the seaside town of Bundoran, where we could watch the sunset from the mighty cliffs that over look the Atlantic ocean. Stepping out of the car we first caught glimpse of this immense panorama of wind, water, beach and surf. A really remarkable view. Eamon took us down a path that led across the “Fairy Bridges,” and over to the famous Wishing Seat. From this magnificent perch we contemplated and vagueries of life and hoped for universal enlightenment for all.

We finished the evening off with a wonderful dinner at Patricia's restaurant, a neat little establishment situated on the main street overlooking the ocean. The only drawback was the long drive back to Eamon's which we didn't achieve until well after midnight. Fortunately, as the sun doesn't truly set here until after 11 pm, the ride was not completely unproductive as we were able to see cottages in some of the smaller villages with thatched roofs as well as the numerous stone walls that make the Irish countryside so appealing.

Beltany Stone Circle, Northern Ireland

Day 5

Due to our continual struggle with jet lag, we didn't get up and about until after noon. Paula had the day off from work at the Ulster Folk Park and Museum and Eamon was up and raring to go. He wanted to first give us the tour of his property, all 20 acres of it. Most of the pasture is rented out to a local hay farmer but there's still plenty to see. He has completely renovated the old family homestead and it is thoroughly modernized with several additions.

After lunch we hopped in the car to visit An Creagan, an historic bronze age theme park located just outside Omagh. That was enjoyable and we learned a lot about bronze age living, however, we were more interested in the even more ancient neolithic sites. Consulting the map we located our first stone circle at nearby Beltany. This one was a little difficult to reach, or should I say find. Since there are so many ancient sites in Ireland, many of the lesser known places are often deserted. Beltany was one such place. We finally reached it on top of a hill, and after the sheep scattered, we walked among, through and around the stones marveling at their placement, construction and purpose. Though thousands of years old and slowly falling apart, the henge still exudes a powerful presence. The diameter and sheer number of stones involved in the structure is a marvel. One can only imagine what it looked like and what kinds of ceremonies and rituals were performed here. My current theory is that the early builders used the stone circles to communicate with spirits either dead or in another dimension. I think the entire community participated in the gathering and consumption of psychedelic mushrooms that perhaps no longer grow in Ireland. Inside the circle was a sacred domain, while outside was the profane. Once you entered the circle all the normal rules of the outside world ended. Through the use of psychotropic drugs the veils separating different realities vanished. Magic, or what seemed like magic, permeated existence within the stones.