Kilkenny

Cork is quite a big and modern city - second to Dublin - and I'm sure that it has some great things to offer. But, Jolene and I decided we would prefer to make an early start for our next destination rather than go half-corked. So we said goodbye and we were quickly on our way to Kilkenny.

The drive was again on major highways so the only thing we had to watch out for was the garda and radar cameras. The little skoda really had pep and I couldn't hear the engine at all...so there were moments there when I would look down at the speedometer to see that I was clipping along at 160! (the speed limit was 110) Sadly, the radio remained quite useless as a musical form of distraction.

Kilkenny has very old roots dating to the sixth century, but truly made it's mark when it became an important monastic center in the eighth century. It isn't a very big town, but its charms are immediately apparent, with old stone buildings, cobbled streets and charming colourful shops and pubs. Our hostel was in a great location, right in the thick of things. We quickly dropped off our stuff and went for a stroll. 


During our meandering we happened upon  Kilkenny Castle, hard to miss really when you see the size of it. Built on the bank of the river Nore as a defensive position, the first stone castle was completed in 1213 by William Marshall, Earl of Pembroke. Three of the original towers still stand today. 
In 1391 the castle was sold to a wealthy and powerful family called the Butlers of Ormonde, or the Butler family. The family remained living in the castle until 1935 when they sold the contents for £6000...clearly they were hard up for cash. In 1967 the family finally gave up the castle, which was by now falling into ruin. Much of if has now been carefully restored to it's former glory, including hand painted wallpaper from China which was painstakingly reproduced from an original scrap and old photographs.

We continued to wander the streets of Killenny, just enjoying the feel of the place - not too serious, not too touristy...although we did see a guy in a knight's chain mail giving a private tour to a family.  Eventually we were brought home by hunger. Having bought something at the local supermarket, we made our dinner and then planned something for the evening. You know it involved a local pub and possibly some cider.

 I was told by the gent who ran the hostel that there was a pub, round the corner, where there was often live music (the longer I had him talking the Irish-er his accent got...he even said feck - t'was grand). So that night, that's where we went. 

The Brewery Counter is a pub that offers a wide selection of O'Hara beer. No cider. Ah well, Guiness is not the only company that brews an Irish stout so I thought I'd give the O'Hara mob a go. Y'all know I hate beer, right? This is me trying new things.

This is what their site says about their stout:

TASTING NOTES:

Description: Traditional dry Irish stout at 4.3% ABV.

Appearance: A deep black colour with a reddish hue when held to the light. It pours with a thick creamy head that is almost tan in colour.

Aroma: On the nose the drinker experiences a rich and complex coffee aroma with light liquorice notes.

Flavour: This Stout has a robust roast flavour with a full bodied and smooth mouth feel. The roast flavours lead to a dry espresso like finish.

Aftertaste: A generous addition of Fuggles hops lead to a tart bitterness which mingles with the roast espresso flavours on the tongue.

...they fail to mention the distinct after taste of earwax and sweat. 

I managed to drink half the pint, ok, maybe a quarter. Jolene, who had already finished the Irish Red she had ordered, seemed to enjoy it more than I did.  I had to fall back on the old red wine.

Apart from the beer, this bar had 3 bands playing that night and some poetry readings. The bands were all really good, but we couldn't really hear the poets when they spoke, which is too bad as the people down the front seemed to really enjoy them. The ambiance was great in this place. This is the pub experience we had imagined. We soaked it all in until quite late and walked home our ears buzzing with the sound of laughter and camaraderie.

We were sorry we didn't have more time to spend in this lovely town. Tomorrow we were on our way back to Dublin.

One night in Cork

There's a major highway that leads straight to Cork, so we wound our way towards it and soon we were pelting down a nice, wide, multi-lane roadway. With the road easy and straight-forward before us we thought that we would try out the radio. Until this point, we were concentrating on getting our bearings, watching out for small sign posts, or hey, just enjoying the scenery. Now, on this long stretch of road with mostly fields on either side we cranked the tunes!

You know how the Irish have a reputation of being gregarious and talkative? Yeah...there was a lot of talking on the radio. A lot. Up and down the dial we went - talking, talking, talking. If we were lucky enough to find a song playing, it was usually followed by lots and lots of talking...very frustrating! We did find better selections of station when we were closer to major cities, but otherwise, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph can those guys can talk!

The southern part of Ireland, where we now found ourselves is relatively flat, with green pastures and farmed land. We arrived in Cork during afternoon rush hour, of course the hostel we were staying at was on the opposite side from where we came in. We finally made it after circling around the one way streets of the neighbourhood a couple of times. It was a beautiful Georgian place with a sweeping front lawn. But there were pressing matters to attend to, we were starving. We dropped off our stuff and went foraging...for a restaurant.

The hostel is located directly in front of the Cork University College, so we figured that there would be heaps of food-like options available, but alas we were mistaken. We did come across a couple of places, but their vegetarian options were scant or non-existent. Then...
 lo! We came upon Cafe Paradiso. A very fancy vegetarian restaurant.

Jolene ordered the deep fried summer squash flowers with pea & ricotta filling, smoked pepperonata, green onion polenta and basil sauce, and I ordered the
spiced pan fried tofu with asian greens, gingered coconut-tamarind sauce,
rice noodles, and shiitake fritter. We certainly were not going to have cider with this fine meal, so we ordered a nice red wine. They brought us some tapas to start; spiced peanuts, seasoned black and green olives, and some sort of savoury sesame seed brittle...yum!! The meals were superbly delicious, and we remarked on the contrast of our surroundings from just a couple of days ago; from lunching on a hilltop with nature's stark, lonely  beauty laid bare before us; to the opulence of a fine meal, with a fine wine...all of which cost close to 3 times the price of our room that night. "Civilisation" is a strange thing.

Although we were tempted by the desert menu (which included, dark chocolate & olive oil mousse with cherries and spiced almond brittle, gooseberry & almond tartlet with amaretto custard and spiced caramel, and strawberry pavlova with passion fruit syrup to name a few) we desisted and ended up strolling back to the hostel. Once there, I'm rather ashamed to say that we fell promptly asleep.

Aran Islands and Cliffs of Moher

On the road again, and another spectacular day. We continued to enjoy the wonderful scenery that Connemara had on show, and dreamed about what it would be like to live in such a magical place... then we reminded ourselves that this was certainly not the norm in these parts - we didn't have to experience the dark, cold, rainy times that must surely make this area depressing and forlorn. Stark hills slowly gave way to rolling green hills as we passed from County Galway to County Clare.

View from the top

Jolene mentioned, at the beginning of the drive, that we would pass through a place called the corkscrew. The road ascends, as the name would suggest, like a corkscrew in a series of hairpin turns up the 198m hill. I admit I had some trepidation, but it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be and we were rewarded by a fantastic view at the top. Other than that, the drive was quite uneventful and we made it to the village of Doolin at around 5. 

The hostel we were staying in was a 300 year old cottage that has been restored. It looks quite idyllic on the bank of the gurgling river Aille. To add to the tableau there was a donkey munching on grass in a neighbouring field. We dropped off our things and walked through the village to stretch our legs. 15 minutes later, including a stop at the tourist office and the local gift shop, we were done. This is a very small town, its only claim to fame being its proximity to the Cliffs of Moher (that's pronounced mo-HERR; not MO-er). By providence or luck, our stroll ended in front of the pub. Well, it was pint-time! 

Jolene decided that this was the place where she would try her Guiness - as you may have heard, Guiness allegedly tastes different in Ireland. I had a sip of someone else's while we were in Letterfrack, and this night had a sip of Jo's. Admittedly, its been close to 30 years since last I tried it in England, and well...it wasn't as repulsive as I remember it. 

We sat outside enjoying the late afternoon sun discussing what the plan of action would be the next day. Choices included: Driving to and walking along the cliffs (of course); going to one of the Aran Islands; forgoing both and driving the ring of Kerry before heading to Cork.

We began chatting with an English fella who was also outside to see what he had done and what his opinion was. He had both walked the cliffs and seen them from the ferry and said that although nice from the top, the view from the water was far more impressive. The hitch - the ferry left from Inis Oirr (one of the Aran islands) at 2pm. He assured us it was not to be missed, so the choice became a ferry boat to Inis Oirr and then a ferry ride to the cliffs or a day of driving - scenic perhaps - but driving nonetheless. The ferry won. We would take the 9:00 ferry to the island, have a look around and then take the 2pm ferry to see the cliffs.


At the docks the next morning we saw a dolphin hanging around the bay, swimming in leisurely circles...although a little bit overcast, the day was starting well! 45 minutes later we were on Inis Oirr. This is the closest island to the main land and there are 2 others: Inis Mealin and Inis Mor. This group of islands has remains of Bronze and Iron age forts, and was later settled by the Irish during the 17th century when Catholic Irish were told to go "to hell or Connacht" (which is Western Ireland - where only rocks and moss grow). As a result the folks that still live here speak Irish Gaelic first and English second.Jolene and I rented some bicycles* and rode around the island. 
 
We visited the graveyard on top of a hill, which has both new and ancient graves. There was also the remains of a 10th century church. From our perch on the hill we looked out into the wide expanse of the Atlantic. We rode on to a 15th century fort and castle. Our high position showed us the stone walls that crisscross the entire island; stone, wind, and sea. What a hard life those first settlers must have had.


We saw the light house (which is privately owned so we couldn't get too close) and then to the other side of the island to see where the fisherman plied their trade. We stopped there for a quick lunch that we had packed, which we shared with an old sea dog. 






At 2 we were back on the ferry to see the Cliffs of Moher. 

That English fella was right.

As we approached the mainland we could see the massive 200m wall rising from the sea. The closer we got the louder the birds got. The cliffs were teeming with sea birds (they estimate 30 000) which includes the Atlantic puffin. Occasionally we would see one of these sea birds "flying" under the water to catch some fish - fantastic!
We could also see the ant-sized people wandering at the top and marvelled at the size of these cliffs.







* I've rented bicycles a few times in my travels - they're always painful.

Cold Water Diving

Cold water diving requires a lot of neoprene! Putting on all the gear took some time...

• sleeveless, fleece-lined neoprene thermal top - check
• 7mm long-sleeved wetsuit - check
• 5 mm shorty wetsuit with hood - check
• boots - check
• mask and snorkel - check
• fins - check
• BCD & tank - check
• gloves - check

By the time I put all that gear on I was sweating. Then, into the water we went. At first I didn't feel the cold at all, but by the time the water level got to my hips...a cold tendril crept up the back of my legs.

I was diving with the dive master at ScubaDive West, Breffni, and a fella from the states who had, like me, never tried diving in water this cold. We went through some re-fresher drills and then off we went into the depths. Visibility was about 2 - 3 metres so we had to stay relatively close together.

There were no brightly coloured fish, no coral, no turtles, no sharks...and I feared that I wouldn't enjoy this dive because I've been lucky enough to see some magnificent things in the short time that I've been diving; perhaps I've been spoiled. But no, the underwater world never ceases to amaze. Alas, none of us had an underwater camera.

In the bay there's a 14 foot sunken trawler, very eerie when you look at it as a ship condemned to a watery grave. But when you see the population that uses it as a home, it's aspect changes dramatically. We saw the crotchety lobster telling us to get off his lawn with upturned claws as we shone a light in his hidey-hole at the prow of the ship. There were nudibranch eggs, which resemble delicate tissues folded into roses (nudibranches are little sea slugs that come in many different shapes and colours - do a search...they're cool).
Breffni picked up a scallop the size of his hand...it looks like a clam, but flatter. It didn't like being man-handled so it chattered away looking very much like a pair of plastic teeth chomping - it shot out quite far too! Apparently this is it's only defense against the deadly starfish...you think they're all nice and innocent, but they're not. We also caught a couple of big crabs indulging in some afternoon delight -  they probably didn't appreciate the flashlights. Ooops, sorry guys...carry on!

As we made our way slowly back to shore we spotted a Plaice, which is a flat fish, so it looks like a ray hiding in the sandy bottom. Up close it's got a squished face, that looks like it's been wiped from one side...weird. There were heaps of other weird and wonderful things, and now I would really like to learn now how to do drysuit dives - coz even though I had 12mm of neoprene, I was cold. Y'all know I don't like being cold. Perhaps I'll have to come back here to do that!

I could have gone for another dive, but it was already 1:30 and we had a fair bit of road to cover, again on small secondary winding roads...including corkscrew hill - well known to motoring enthusiasts

Oot and Aboout

The next morning we went in search of ScubaDive West. When I was researching the area, I followed a link that brought me to this Diving centre...who knew there was diving in Ireland?

We drove down a small road towards the Atlantic; saw the beach that the old fella wanted us to come visit and we kept going. We turned onto a tiny lane that lead to another beach. It was packed. Apparently the local football team was practicing there that morning. Somehow their giant bus had made it down that tiny lane....how it was going to turn around and go back was a mystery!

The cove

We were told that the diving centre was just a little farther down the lane, so we left the football team to their practice, and kept going. The small lane ended as the peninsula ended, and there was ScubaDive West. Most places train new divers in a pool; these guys had their own sheltered cove in a spectacular location. There was one small draw back, surface water temperature: 17°, underwater temperature: 14°. Yikes!

I spoke to the dive master and arranged to come the next morning for a dive. He told me that there was another diver keen on going out. How exciting! We drove back slowly, appreciating the fantastic country side and the crystal clear waters.  

At the hostel we packed a quick lunch and we were soon off again to hike up Diamond Hill in the National Park. We walked to the park and in the visitor's centre the lady there told us that the hike to the top was about 7km all up and that most of it was a gentle climb, except for the "nasty bit near the top."

Yet again, it was a spectacular day...we had packed all that rain gear for nothing! We never lamented that for too long, however. Again and again we were blown away with the stark beauty around us. There were many people walking with us that day, but when you  turned away from the path and looked out, you were alone with the place.

We got to the top at around 2 and the wind was quite brisk up there (and yes, that bit at the end WAS nasty).We hunkered down behind some rocks that seemed to be pushing themselves up through the thin layer of turf and dirt...there wasn't much growing in these parts. We pulled out our lunch of carrots, cucumber, chick peas and....remember those hard biscuits from Donegal? They'd had time to soften up a little, and although a little dry without butter, they were still delicious.

We sat and watched people pass. After a little while there was no one, a lull. We weren't very high up, but it was like we were on the top of the world. This isn't part of a mountain range so the earth just fell away on all sides, and we could see for miles in all directions. The rough contours of the coast on one side and the rumpled green hills dotted with white craggy scars to the other. 

There appeared a dark cloud on the horizon, with the wind blowing it in our direction, we decided that it was probably time to go back down. The wind was getting chillier and more insistent. As we walked down the lee side of the hill we were more protected, but once we hit the bottom we could feel the heaviness. It was going to rain.We made it back to the hostel just as it started, but it was only a half-hearted attempt and it soon dissipated.

 This was our last night in this beautiful place. We would have gladly stayed for a month here. But tomorrow I had a dive in the morning and another long drive to Doolin, by the Cliffs of Moher.

Coming into Connemera

The Connemara region is on the western coast of Ireland and is also the largest Gaeltacht region in Ireland - that means they speak Irish Gaelic.

Over the course of our journey we told many that we were headed to the Connemara region, and everyone we told had the same response. Their faces would break into a knowing smile full of pride..."AAAAHHHH" they all said, "You're sure to love it there...so beautiful"

When I was doing the research into where to go - I had read the same thing, so we were staying for 2 nights in a tiny village called Letterfrack. It is also right next to the Connemara National park...handy!

To get there we had to get off the main road and get onto some secondary roads.Now, the main roads are narrower than I'm used to, but they're comfortable for two cars to pass.The secondary roads, however....well, lets just say that there were a few, "Holy SHIT" moments in there!

At some point in our journey, by this time it was late afternoon, we began to notice a change. The relatively flat landscape gave way to rocky outcroppings and low rocky hills. We began to pull over periodically to take pictures. After an hour of winding through these beautiful hills rounded by time, wind, and rain, we thought that perhaps all the picture snapping was impeding our progress! We decided to stop stopping. Then the Atlantic began peeking through here and there...such a tease!!
 
Have you ever shown your holiday photos to others, and they just never do justice to the place your photographing? It doesn't matter how many pictures you take. The beauty, and majesty, or even the sheer vastness of the place cannot be captured - at least not with a little camera like the ones we had. This place is wild and lonely and absolutely breathtaking.


We arrived at our hostel, The Bard's Den, at around 6....dinner time!
This hostel is attached to a restaurant and we had to go in to collect our room key and check in. Did I mention it was dinner time? The smells coming from the kitchen were mouthwatering. Jolene and I looked at each other and simultaneously decided that after a long day on the road, surely we deserved a well cooked meal!! After all, tomorrow involved a hike...we needed to gather our strength.

That night we went to the pub across the street, for a pint and some music. Shortly after receiving our drinks, an older gentleman - about 65 -70 - began to chat up Jolene. Oh he was smitten and suggested that we come to the beach the next day for a dip...he lived right in front of the beach, don't cha know. He was very difficult to understand, partly because of his thick accent and mostly because he was very very drunk. At one point he asked me to convey a message to her..."I'd like to roll in the sand with her! You tell her and let me know what she says." I tried to tell him that she was happily married, but he kept telling me that there was no way the husband would find out!
Oh my. Unfortunately for him Jolene was not interested....poor fella.

 

On the way to Connemara

We both enjoyed the luxury of the pool the next morning and then enjoyed a rather large continental breakfast buffet. We discreetly pocketed a couple of hard biscuits and some slices of oat bread for later. What?? I'm sure you would have done the same.

Afterwards we wandered over to the castle, which we had spotted the night before. This was Saturday and there was a small local market selling arts, crafts and other sundry items...and for some reason, entrance to the castle was free! Cool!

The Donegal region was once part of the kingdom of Tir Chonaill, which was lead by one of the most powerful families of Ireland from the 5th to the 16th century. Perhaps you know a descendant - the name is O'Donnell.

The dining hall

The castle was built in 1474 on the inside of an elbow of the river Eske. It was once regarded as one of the finest castles in Ireland. Hey, this castle has an indoor toilet! The waste chute drops into the river and is angled so that an enemy archer could not get someone unawares. It also has a right handed ascension with uneven stair to trip up enemies. Its well protected location and high walls could not help them keep it indefinitely though.

In 1607, after the nine years war, the O'Donnells left (read: were chased from) Ireland and their castle was taken over by an English Captain called Basil Brooke. Brooke added a Jacobean style manor to the castle.  It stayed in the Brooke family until 1898 when it was donated to the Office of Public Works...by then it was mostly ruined.

On our way out through the market, Jolene bought a small framed painting from a local artist and I bought a small cupcake to support the local RSPCA - I miss my dog.

We walked along the Eske river through the small town of Donegal; had a wee chat with an elderly Irish lady who was feeding the birds from her front stoop (didn't understand too much of what she said though). Then it was back to to the car direction West towards Connemara.

On the map it didn't look too bad perhaps 3 hours...but there was a reason people said ''Ooooohhhh Connemara....'' whenever we told them we were going there.