Wexford strawberries

At last, authentic Wexford stawberries, without having to buy 5Kg of Queen potatoes at a roadside stall.

And Ireland showed its more conventional summer colours. It started with drizzle as we looked at the Black Abbey in Kilkenny.




By the time we set off on the motorway to visit Shan, a grade 1 from my class, Dymphna and her Mam, it was bucketing down. We travelled to Campile, a little village near Waterford. It was the only place in Ireland bombed during WW11 -- by the Germans, though the road signs were ambiguous on that point.




The memorial was a joint creation by a German and an Irish artist.




Shan is turning 7 on Friday.




We had a lovely meal including some Wexford specialities -- salmon and strawberries. Her aunty Lola cutting some birthday cake.

Dymphna and Shan showed us some of the sights. We went to Hook Head lighthouse (the oldest working lighthouse in the world) and took a tour. Shan was in trouble with a shark, until the pirates rescued her...










Views from the lighthouse, follow, the first lazily lolling sideways ...













We took advice on where to spend the night and settled on Avoca, a little village about two hours north. Just got there before the pub stopped serving dinner.

In response to unrepeated requests, a special food posting is being cooked up. Try not to salivate.

- Posted here at the meeting of the waters, where the wild wifi runs free

Christians and castles

We sent off on a long trek to find Clonmacnoise. The NavFree seemed to send us the long way around, but perhaps it was the diversion half way there.

We found out about Ciaran née Kieran, young miracle worker who founded the joint, but died of the yellow plague (malaria??) before it was really built. Never mind, it had 200 years to be built at this centre of the Irish midlands before it was sacked by Munstermen, Vikings (from Dublin) and then the Norman English (weren't they Vikings from Normandy anyway?)

Anyway, lots of celtic crosses, both standing or carved into tombstones. Also ruins of churches and the like ...













We were rained upon properly for the first time. Don in denial about the weather refused to take his raincoat and had to run for cover in the cafe. Good choice as soup was on with the ubiquitous brown bread.




We passed a town having Scarecrow festival. We followed some of the trail as we passed through. We particularly liked this one!




On our return to Kilkenny, we toured the castle.




No photos as it is all dressed up in 19th century garb, thanks to creative reconstruction. And we saw the rose garden before moving on.



After our castle self guided tour we soaked up the atmosphere in Kilkenny.



That is, we went to a posh pub, and Don tried yet another local beer. Score out of ten?



- Posted prandially

Sovereign Hill?

THE ANGLICISATION OF PERFECTLY GOOD IRISH NAMES means some strange -- or cute -- place names. Bunratty Castle. (Where is mole, I hear you ask? Over in North Wales, with badger.)

Today was all about Shannon Heritage, and seeking value for money, as we departed Ennis for some serious tourism and a solid drive south.

Bunratty Castle and folk park has a 13th century castle, purchased by wealthy English codger for £1000 in 1954 and restored, surrounded by a park where 19th century Irish life is recreated (shades of Sovereign Hill).







Far more bed space than a boutique hotel!




Huge Irish elk heads found in the bogs.




And a kitchen with enough game hanging to excite Josh's interest.




Don had to keep ducking when going up or down the stairs, although why he chose to lie down while doing it ....










So much for the 19th century. At a parallel park at Craggaunowen, we went back to the neolithic and iron ages ...





Medieval castle, again rebuilt by wealthy enthusiast and then handed over to the nation...




A Crannóg- a dwelling on a lake.







The wild woods




A Ringfort with Don brushing up on his thatching technique and explaining why the Aboriginal people didn't make thatched cottages.

Not shown: a speculative reconstruction of how a 9th century Irish monk might have visited Newfoundland ...

- Posted before seeking soy

Inishmor

THE THING ABOUT A BOUTIQUE HOTEL, apparently, is that it is small.

Five things we never expected, however, were:
1. A hotel so obscure that it didn't actually have its name on the front, due to heritage restrictions etc etc
2. A hotel keeper who rang to tell us where it was, when we were clear we must be both lost and confused.
3. A hotel keeper who was Australian.
4. A hotel keeper who was so apologetic about the size of the room -- yes, Peter the bed was good, even though Don's feet hung off the end and went out the window if he got out the side -- and thanked us for being such good sports, so understanding etc.
5. Leaving the (literal) keys when Don went to shift the car and had to wait outside for half an hour calling for Sue to let down her hair from the third floor ....

So, after a rather sleepless night ( 21st party below until about 2), we grabbed takeaway coffees and sped along Galway bay to get the 10.30 ferry to the largest of the Aran Islands, Inishmore.







Don decided to ride around the island while I took the bus.









Others took a pony trap.




There is so much rock. The farmers made drystone walls to enclose their fields and to clear them of rock.










There is so little soil they need to bring seaweed, sand and whatever mud they can up to their fields. I saw the ruin of an ecclesiastical study centre from the 7-8th century.







These are three memorial stones of Romans who died here. The fort Dún Aonghasa is built right on the cliff.










Sorry, sideways viewing only here.




There are four seals hidden in this picture. They looked like slugs on rocks.

Then motorway driving off and on to Ennis.


- Posted as we pack up

Ireland rocks again

WE SET OFF from our Raddison Blu hotel to the Céide Fields, northwest of Ballycastle. The world's most extensive neolithic monument is still mainly hidden under layers of bog.




This large tree, recovered from the bog, is in the Interpretive Centre.




A local man in the 1930s, while digging peat in the bog, found piled up stones buried beneath the bog. His son, who became an archaeologist, led extensive exploration of the area in the 1960s and realised that these stones were the remains of stones walls that had been covered by the ever-rising bog.




Because they couldn't dig all the fences etc up and the geophys didn't work, Tony, they opted for the simpler method of just probing the bog and mapping the bottom, marking the landscape with bamboo sticks.



The rest of the day was taken up by driving through amazing scenery. Esturies, mountains, bogs where peat was drying, small islands in rivers or lakes.













We ended up in a 'boutique' hotel in Galway in a tiny room -- smaller than Anna's filled with a double bed and a tiny en suite.




We seem to be in the St Kilda type of area of Galway. A fun park, Casinos, and loud people outside in the early morn...






- Posted before breakfast