Back Home! And a short poem, Pub Song

September 20,

From Limerick
     Nothing to do with limericks

To Shannon Rental Car
     Whereupon the inspector did not notice our run-in with the lorry and said the magic words: "good to go." And we did

To Shannon airport
     Enter through the famous duty-free

To Philadelphia
     No one notices Philadelphia

To Burlington
     Vermont at last

To Strafford
     Beautiful

To Home
     Also beautiful, two great and excited dogs, and safely in bed.

Congratulations to our driver
     who stayed focused on the left lane like a sheep dog working her sheep, even in the round-abouts, and who appreciated every sign calling for "traffic calming" and "no overtaking."

And now a poem of sorts:

Pub Song

It's not true that an Irish village
Is but a pub and a post
When often there are two pubs.

We saw two pubs side-by-side
On the water in Leenane,
One serving mainly Guiness,
The other serving mostly food.
None complaining.

The trad music in the pubs
In Galway, Clifden, Westport
Can transport you to a different place
and time and clear your thoughts.
Until they sing about Annie Moore.

Annie was an Irish girl of 15
who was the first ever to walk
through to America at Ellis Island,
and so she enters our fractured hearts.
"Isle of hope, isle of tears,
isle of freedom, isle of fears."

Annie reminds what's possible, what's lost.
Are we walking with her today?
Can we take her hand
and lift a light beside the Golden Door?

in Limerick

King John's fort

"may the sun shine warm upon your face"

Around Dingle

September18, Dingle. Our plan today was to head west on the peninsula, doing the Slea Head drive, enjoy the natural beauty there (especially that beyond Slea Head), take a serious hike, eat a great lunch, and enjoy another feast: the many great architectural sites in this area, many from the stone, bronze, and Norman eras.

At first, it looked like that wasn't going to be. Like California, great fog banks rolled in by the colder ocean. It was hard to see anything. One of us determined that an Irish coffee or two at a lovely restaurant near Ventry, the Stonehouse, would melt the fog away. After the coffee, we checked and things were rapidly improving. So if we had two world-class luncheons here, we decided the fog would be gone by the time we finished. And so it was! Beautiful by 1 pm. Our second sunny day, and a warm one, our warmest, with temperatures in the low 60s F.

With that we began to see the region's old forts, beehive huts, stone-enclosed farms, and most of all the small church, the Gallarus Oratory, a 1000 year old all-stone structure that looks as if it might have been built in recent months by the best craftsmen.

A highpoint, given our love for dramatic and beautiful scenery, was our hike with sheep out to Dunmore Head, at the very end of mainland Europe with a spectacular view over to the Blaskets. It is so nice up there that our Blasket guide from yesterday was also spotted taking his girlfriend up to Dunmore Head. We had a nice chat.

We ate this evening at the Half Door, and it certainly ranks in our minds as one of the very best spots in western Ireland--crab casserole and lobster bisque as starters, and then the best lamb and salmon yet on the trip. We were filled beyond full.

This may be the last blog from the road. Our job now is to return the rental car and depart Shannon on Wednesday. When we get home we will add some photos to the blog and also reflect a bit on Ireland and our trip.

What a trip!

across the harbour in Dingle Town

beehive

waiting on Irish coffee

view across to the Ring of Kerry

picnic with sheep

1000 year old Oratory church

Great Blasket!

September 17, Dingle Town. In the tight contest for the most beautiful place ever, Great Blasket Island takes the cake. It probably helped that this was the first bright, sunny, cloudless all-day we have had, but even with problematic weather, we think we would have felt the same way.

We went out from Dingle with Billy at www.dingledolphin.com on his orange boat on an adventure that lasted almost seven hours, most of them spent on Great Blasket.

On the island, we figured we should do this thing right, so we walked the high path around the whole island, pausing for a packed lunch (bought at the SuperValu) in the still wet grass along the way. The shades of blue--from turquoise in the crashing waves to deep blue on the horizon to pale blue over on the Ring of Kerry--are enough but only the beginning. The scattered lesser Blaskets ring the island. It was a long trek but among the best hikes of our lives, right up there with the Carthew Lakes in Glacier National Park. Thank you Bruce Nelson for saying we should not miss the Great Blasket.

The settlement on Blasket was abandoned in 1953, with government encouragement. A number of those leaving went to Springfield, MA, of all places, since basketball was not a big deal on Blasket. A few are returning to rebuild the abandoned stone structures, but not for resettlement.

On the way back, Billy made an extra effort to show us the resident grey seal colony on the island and then to head out into Dingle Bay to find the rather rare Risso's Dolphins, which put on quite a show. We also saw an amazing hunting expedition on the island by a peregrine falcon. Ask us about it if interested.

As Billy was looking for Dolphins, he turned up the boat radio so others could hear the Irish Football National Championship Game--Dublin vs. Mayo. It was a close game, but, as always, Dublin won. We were just in County Mayo, and their extreme excitement had rubbed off on us. They have not won a championship game in 66 years despite having the best team in the country, we are told.

All of the above qualifies as a grand bit of serendipity. Had we stuck with our original plan to stay two days in Westport, this lovely day would have been spent in the car driving from Westport to Dingle.

A world-class dinner at Out of the Blue topped off a most memorable day.

fishing near Great Blasket

heading out on Great Blasket near abandoned settlement

a totally sunny day on Blasket

along the trail around Great Blasket

looking back to the mainland

Gus celebrates lapping Great Blasket

and then gives his back a rest atop an old boat

 one of the best seafood restaurants in Ireland by all accounts

A Change of Plans

September 15-16, Westport to Dingle. First off, let us note that we changed plans: wanting more time on the Dingle Peninsula, we decided to stay in Westport only one night and drive to Dingle Town today for three nights.

The drive from Leenane north through the mountains and along Lake Doo to Louisburgh was as spectacular as the guidebooks say, as was the walk on the beach at the foot of magestic Croagh Patrick. This is the southern side of Clew Bay.

Westport is a gem--a planned city commissioned by the Marquess of Sligo, John Browne, in the 1780s. The town was originally a place for his workers and servants, many of whom were engaged on his estate, Westport House. Today, Westport has been voted Ireland's number one place to live.

All of this is particularly important because Gus' maternal grandmother was St. Clare Browne, of Ulster heritage. Gus is now claiming and reporting widely of his Irish roots, including the possibility that he is a descendant of Lord Browne himself.

Our driver did a masterful job--her usual--in getting us from Westport to Dingle today. With skillful navigation by our co-pilot, we skirted around Galway and Limerick, only once did we end up by mistake in the parking lot of a Hewlett-Packard plant. We took the lovely coast road out the peninsula. Until we got to the peninsula, we saw a lot of the "postcard" Ireland--the Emerald Isle with gently rolling hills, trees for hedgerows (rather than stones), country estates, and historic spots, including Adare, where we sensed a lot of money. We also saw some towns that looked run-down and passed over.

The south coast drive into Dingle brought back the arrestingly beautiful landscapes and scenery--lordy, we took lots of photos. It is greener here than up north, more gentle and inviting, a bit less dramatic, but as beautiful. Cece kept predicting if we drove to the "sunny south," we could put on our flipflops but it is still hovering in the mid-50s.

Coming in, we were pushed to the margins by 20 tour buses heading away from Dingle. So tonight most tourists were gone and Dingle Town was peaceful and quite charming. We had crab and duck dishes this evening, and planned our austere diets for our return.

lovely scene in Westport

St. Patrick looms over the town

Gus looks longingly at ancestral home

lovely emerald isle

on the way to Dingle

Mountains, Sheep, and Tiny Towns

September 13-14, Leenane. We hiked in the Connemara National Park yesterday. From the highest point we reached on Diamond "Hill," we could see the real hikers, dots moving across the summit well beyond our possibility. Younger, we would have said, Let's scamper up there." But our view was great enough.

Today we walked the Famine Road, a public works project undertaken during the great famine. It runs along the south shoulder of Killary Harbour starting at the Killary Sheep Farm. We are trying to do a serious walk each day.

We have complained a lot about the weather, so let it be said that today was a sunny day. Of course it rained off and on, but basically it was a beautiful sunny day. That noted, we will report what the owner of the Killary Sheep Farm ( pronounced like Hillary to our surprise) said to us: "It has rained more this year than at any time in living memory. Last year was bad too. Too much water, not enough sun." The silver lining? Lots of rainbows.

He also told us the sheep farm business was having a hard time. The new generation is heading away, and the rich farmers in the east get all the subsidies. That, and the truly fine sheep dog herding performance, reminded us of home.

These past two days have been spent in the mountains of north Connemara. It is the area where the Maumturks, the Twelve Bens, the Mweelrea, Devil's Mother, and Ben Gorm all bump shoulders, and it is splendidly beautiful, well beyond anything we anticipated.

Leenane is at the head of Killary Harbour, Ireland's only fjord, though whether it is actually a glacier-formed fjord is disputed. We are staying at the Convent in Leenane, and the stained glass windows of Jesus, the Virgin Mother, and others are convincing. Sean, the innkeeper, has a son who runs the top local restaurant, the Blackberry. A diner said to Sean's son this evening that he'd heard there were 250  residents in Leenane to which Sean's son replied, "They must be counting those in the graveyards too."

We glimpsed in the news that the Brexit vote was stirring Irish nationalism in the north. We will have to ask our friend Bruce Nelson about that.

ready to hike Diamond Hill

peat mining near Connemara National Park

Killary Harbour

heading to two pubs in Leenane

pub scene in Leenane

highly skilled professional

a bit of advertising

Sean's breakfast room at the Convent

near Leenane

Clifden Flowers

September 11-12, Clifden. We continued our indulgent trek across NW Ireland by departing Galway city early Monday morning for Connemara. We went by the way of the locally beloved beach region of Salt Hill. Then we headed north and west into Connemara.

We have now driven and hiked around this region for two days, and even though it was overcast most of the time, we can report that the scenery here is as spectacular as any we have seen anywhere. There are dramatic mountain ranges--the Maumturks and the 12 Bens, calming pastoral vistas, Caribbean white beaches with turquoise waters, farmsteads and fishing villages, but mostly it is the color and the lighting! Wow.

Clifden, on the western coast, we like a lot. It's similar to what we thought Galway would be like. We drove the famous Sky Road loop and then headed for Omey Island. At low tide you can walk to the island across about a third of a mile of sandy ocean floor. We were about half way over when we saw a car making the crossing also, and then another and another. It's a veritable road, though there is not much by way of habitation on lovely Omey itself, mostly cows and sheep. The tides are posted prominently at the crossing point.

Our eating habits have not improved. The best pubs for lunch, fine dining in the evening. Our children may inherit earlier, but little may be left. Mitchell's is the top seafood spot in Clifden.

Tuesday morning we set off across the Roundstone Bog, a favorite of daughter Catherine. It is a region of small hills, big rocks, countless bogs, and colorful vegetation including sedges, heather, purple moor grass, and wild flowers all with the Bens rising in the distance. Then we took a good hike across a narrow isthmus with white sand beaches on both sides to the uninhabited Dog's Bay headland. The rains waited for us to be properly seated for lunch at O'Dowd's in Roundstone and then they let loose.

On the way back to Clifden we took a left at Ballyconneely and went out the peninsula to visit the Connemara Smokehouse. We asked if they favored or opposed the tight requirements on wild salmon fishing. Our guide said they favored them and that the fish were coming back as a result of them. Unfortunately the smokehouse has had to cease exporting to the US due to new regulations.

Our only complaint is the weather. Dripping and heading down the hall to our room in the Quay House, we passed the manager, Paddy, who said simply, "monsoons now."

The oysters continue to be exceptional. We even had them for breakfast.

Did we mention that it was Donna and Bruce Nelson who first told us about Monk's in Ballyvaughn?

Connemara!

flowers everywhere

walking the seafloor to Omey

driving across the sea

lots of rainbows

four friends

Harbour House in Clifden

full Irish breakfast with black and tan sausage

sheep are everywhere

Cece hits the beach

Aran Island

September 9-10, Inis Meain and Galway. We met Peter Conneely at our Galway B&B, Herons Rest, and it turns out that he is a native of the middle of the three Aran Islands, Inis Meain (Maan). Without bias we believe, Peter assured us that we were headed to the right island, and indeed he was headed there himself, so we all took the same ferry out.

Our Burren friend Tony Kirby had previously confirmed our choice of islands. It turns out they were both right in confirming the original suggestion made to us by Charlie Shackleton in Simon Pearce's restaurant back in Vermont. (Bear with us, this all comes together in a while.)

The small ferry (no cars) made its way to the island relatively peacefully, and though it was crammed with people, essentially everyone but us was headed to one of the other two islands. We got off with a few locals, including Peter who went off to find his uncle and cousins and help with the cows.

Unless you are a poet or the playwright J. M. Synge, it is hard to write about Inis Meain. It has its own sleepy charm, stoney ruggedness, timelessness, and remarkable beauty. We'll let the photos convey all that and more (photos to be added when we return home). Of all the islands it has by far the fewest tourists and the least development, and it is the most culturally intact. Some Irish families send their kids to Inis Meain to learn Irish, which everyone on the Island speaks. It was fascinating to listen to several Irish conversations underway in the Island's only pub while a recent hurling match was replayed on the TV there with the announcer's play-by-play all in Irish too.

We saw on the island the same black donkeys, yellow sheep, and giant cows we saw on the "mainland," but the new and fascinating thing was the intensive grazing method made possible by rotating the cows among the small pastures defined by substantial stone walls. I think the islanders here understood the Allan Savory grazing method long before Allan.

Peter made several good suggestions, but his best was that we cast our frugality to the winds (not hard--this is the most windy place we've ever been) and eat that evening at the Inis Meain Restaurant, the only upscale thing on the island and a "destination" treat for Dubliners and others in the know. The meal was both expensive and wonderful. There are only a few tables and during the inter-table conversations, we were asked where we were from. When we said Vermont, they beamed and said "Simon Pearce and his family!" And when asked how we came to be on Inis Meain, we said we were sent here by Charles Shackleton, descendent of the famous explorer Ernest, and they beamed again. As all the guidebooks say, the Irish are very friendly and welcoming. They have treated us well.

The trouble started Saturday evening when word went around that the weather was expected to be so extreme the Sunday afternoon ferry was being cancelled (a rarity we were assured). Thus this morning we made fast to the dock and caught the early ferry back to Galway. The seas were already up, and it was a rough trip. The winds are getting stronger and stronger as the day passes here in Galway.

lovely day on Inis Meain

ancient stone and communications tower

The Inis Meain Restaurant - before the crowd

Galway All Day

September 8, Galway. Today there were bursts of wind and chilly rain in a mostly blue-sky beautiful day. So we walked around town, taking in the sights and the scene generally. Galway is full of music and several young grunge groups unfolded on the walking street throughout the day. They were quite good.

The remarkable natural feature here is the river Corrib. The volume of water that flows, with great turbulence forming rapids without rocks, between Lough Corrib and Galway Bay is staggering. And attractive, in the sense that it is hard to take your eyes away. It's a bit hypnotic.

A group of mute swan seems to have secured residence at the mouth of the Corrib, and we were told that a black swan had joined them. So off we went in search of our own black swan event. It wasn't hard to spot! She appears to be a different species, as different as trumpeter and mute. She is smaller than the mute and has red on her head where the mute has black.

The City Museum was interesting particularly because it featured Padraic O'Conaire, one of the first modern fiction writers to write in Irish/Gaelic. His famous children's book is an affectionate story about his little black donkey in Kinvara, which is actually where we were surprised to see black donkeys just yesterday.

After a full day in Galway, we ate at a charming restaurant Ard Bia at Nimmos near the Spanish Arch on Long Walk, just a short walk from our B & B The Heron's Rest.

black swan with our B&B across the water

sharing thoughts with Oscar Wilde

street music in Galway. Note woman in background

The art of driving in the rain

September 7, Galway. We are very worried about Hurricane Irma now headed to southern Florida but predicted, either first or last, to hit Charleston and our beloved family there and our beach house. May it seek a mid-Atlantic path!

We arrived Galway lunchtime after a most beautiful drive around the head of Galway Bay, with the Burren slowly disappearing. The area around Kinvara is so beautiful it has attracted some serious retirement and second home money.

Galway is something different. It seems a Mecca for the young, the musical, the wanderer, the searcher. The natural setting (on the Corrib where it flows into Galway Bay) is spectacular. Lynch's Window is here. From it, Lynch, the town's JP, hung his own son after conviction for murder. Thus the term.

Mostly it is a place for food and music--and booze. We just returned from a spectacular meal at the town's best seafood restaurant, Oscar's, topped off by an evening of traditional music at the famous pub The Crane.

It rained all day but there's promise of blue skies tomorrow. We said to a pub owner, "I don't guess there will be a sunset today." And he replied, "Sure there will. You just won't see it." Another person told us, "We have all the seasons here. Every day!"

trad music in Galway