On Ireland: Part 1
Time to write about that little Ireland trip that I went on. This is going to be a fairly lengthy post, and it will get rambly and uninteresting at times, which is why you have a Page-Down button. For reasons that will be explained later, there are some sections that will be light on photographs.
This trip began nine years ago, when three college freshmen showed up a week early to learn how to fix computers for a work-study job. After nine years, Shane decided to get married in Ireland and invited me to join. I was originally planning on declining, until I got a couple timely bonuses from work and found myself thinking “Why not?” Later, when I was chatting with Helen on IM, I somehow invited her and she somehow accepted. What started off as a weeklong circuit on the eastern coast became this trip. “Go big, or go home.”
Helen and I are not experienced bikers. Before we started planning and training, I don’t think I had ever ridden more than twenty kilometers, or with any kind of weight. Neither she nor I have done a bike tour either, and I’m certainly no expert traveler. I’ve never been to Europe, or really out of the country. So to say that I have some apprehensions is an understatement.
Training wise, I started riding between 50km and 100km on the weekends. I got a bike trainer and rode it while watching nature documentaries, making a point to gun it whenever there was a nice predator-prey chase sequence. I also started bike commuting. Helen started doing some riding as well. By the time the trip date rolled around, I felt reasonably confident that I’d be able to do the route. Helen later told me that she had some doubts about her biking ability, but didn’t let it show too much.
I upgraded to a Bianchi Volpe shortly before the trip, and consider myself a satisfied customer. I also picked up a pair of Ortleib panniers because it rains from time to time in Seattle, as well as Ireland. I passed on the fenders to save a little weight, figuring that my stuff is waterproof enough. I packed a decent amount of synthetics, wool, and padded cycling briefs. For some reason, I packed a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt, thinking that there would be times when I should “look nice.” I also brought a suit for the wedding, but did not plan to take that on the cycling portion of the trip. Electronics-wise, I brought my phone, Zune, Kindle and netbook, which meant bringing four separate charging cables. Boo. Camera-wise, I brought my 40D, 24-70L, 200-400 (in vain hopes of any wildlife photography), flash, big tripod and little tripod. I was glad we decided not to camp, so I could spare another 10lbs camping gear.
Bike, packed up and ready to go
Wool socks, very important
Helen and I did a lot of planning. We took a few weekends and planned out the entire route, booked lodging (which turned out to be unnecessary) and spent the next few months getting psyched. This was an especially big deal for me since I have never really traveled internationally, aside from day trips to Canada and family trips to India. This would be the first time I’d really get to explore another country, and experience their culture.
Packing the bike took two tries to get right. Eventually, I was able to put that monster in and had enough room to pad the sides. Everything was zip-tied pretty securely, so I felt pretty confident that my bike would make it in one piece. Those zip ties where very useful and I now consider a necessity for packing stuff. My other stuff was packed pretty quickly in one suitcase. I tried to sleep that night, but didn’t really get any and figured I’d get some sleep on the upcoming 8AM departure.
Scott was kind enough to bring me to the airport at 6AM and I got to the United check-in counter. I was shocked to see a massive line this early in the morning, but I guess a lot of people had plans. I had a large suitcase and bicycle, and had to drag my stuff through the line.
The flight to Chicago may have been eventful, but I don’t remember much of it. I was in a semiconscious state for most of it. I can rarely get any kind of satisfying sleep on a plane. It is about as restful as dozing off in a lecture, where your head is tilting forward and snapping backwards every fifteen minutes. Ordinarily, I can just power through periods where I don’t sleep enough, but the physically demanding nature of this trip has given me cause for concern.
In Chicago, I proceeded to get lost in the tunnel network of O’Hare trying to get to my terminal. For the record, seeing the departure gate board read T5 does not make you think “Terminal 5” but “Gate T5.” Eventually, I made it there and met up with Emma, another friend of Jin and Shane who was also planning on cycle touring the Ring of Kerry and Beara Peninsula. She wouldn’t be with us, but we exchanged a good amount of information.
I was awake for most of the evening flight, and spent it reading some books on my Kindle and just mulling things over. Around 430AM, I looked out the window and saw another plane speeding along parallel to us. It isn’t easy to take a picture out the side of an aircraft, but I did my best here. I think I watched us fly next to this plane for a good half hour before we overtook it and left it in our vapor trail.
I watched random things that were on the inflight broadcast. I particularly remember a recording of a Celtic Woman concert at Kilkenny Castle. I determined that Kilkenny was not nearly as spectacular as I had thought from some guidebooks and axed it from the itinerary. I also noticed that music video directors can’t stay focused on a subject for more than three seconds without cutting away to a new shot. Stop doing that! Those of us who have not have our attention spans ruined by music television deserve a nice shot of an attractive Irish diva for a good 30 seconds.
First glimpse of Ireland
I got off the plane, waited in a long passport line and was asked “business or pleasure” by the passport official. I was tempted to reply “Cycling is my main business!” but decided that it would not be a smart way to enter the country. There would be many future opportunities to embarrass myself.
I turned on my phone and was a little annoyed to see that Helen was running two hours late. I grabbed my luggage and bike box, and found a spot to hang out. I was horrified to see though, that the fork had punched through the bottom of the box. I made a note to better pack that next time, fixed the box and settled in with my book and some tea to wait for my partner.
Helen and I have known each other for nine years, and become close friends over the past two, but our relationship has been through the phone and instant messenger. So it was really wonderful to see the woman behind the keyboard after so long. We were both pretty nervous about this trip, and when I returned from a trip to the bathroom, I saw her praying for a safe journey. We had to wait a bit for a coach to Durrow, and were slightly worried that we were on the wrong bus for a bit, but eventually came to a stop outside Castle Durrow. We unloaded from the bus, and the Irish weather welcomed us with a brief torrential downpour. I ran in to the castle lobby to see if anyone could loan us a cart. Luckily, one of the bellhops had a car and we threw all our stuff in there for a drive to our room. A couple bellhops helped us get a net total of six bags and two bicycles in to our room.
Castle Durrow isn’t a medieval stronghold, but more of a villa built around what was once a small castle. We showered, decompressed and snacked on a couple scones that Emma was kind enough to have sent to our room. Then, we had some time to kill before the welcome barbecue so we explored the grounds and walked through the gardens. I briefly entertained the thought of playing tennis on a grass court, but it was time soon time to eat.
I got to meet a Reid, an old friend from Penn at the reunion and learn more about Shane’s dark and sordid past. I also got to meet his dad, who I have heard crazy stories of involving Indonesian revolutions, cross-country skiing with a keg of Guinness and the fact that we both want to Socotra Island someday. I was unable to partake in the Korean barbecue but was told by Helen that it was “gooooooood.”
Helen and I also drank our first Guinness in Ireland. Many people say that Guinness tastes better in Ireland, and it’s more than just legend. Reasons include:
• Bartenders know that pouring a pint is a long process, and a smart one at a party will have a few pints that have already settled.
• Guinness has quality-control representatives that ensure that the tap lines are cleaned out every three weeks.
• The longer the beer is in the keg, the more the taste will degrade.
• You having a total blast and everything tastes better
Strangely enough, this was the first beer I’ve had with Reid and he seemed to take it as an opportunity to “beer-mentor” me. Helen and I also downed two pints of Bulmer’s Cider, which puts most of our bottled and canned cider to shame. At this point, I felt the need to join in with the karaoke and joined the chorus of “Bohemian Rhapsody.” Fatigue and jet lag soon got the better of both us, and we went and crashed.
I woke up at 5AM the next day and snuck out to wander the grounds some. I erred in not bringing my camera, because there were a couple nice shots of horses in the mist. I read for some time in the drawing room, found Helen and walked more of the grounds before breakfast. In a sign of things to come, we ate a large amount of toast, and I rediscovered that jam is really freaking good. Helen got the infamous black and white pudding, which prompted a couple at an adjacent table to say “You know what that is, right?” She was a big fan of the black pudding and I wolfed down the eggs.
Next, since it was still morning, we started assembling our bikes. My concerns about the fork were unfounded, and both of us would have been ready for a test ride in less than half an hour, were it not for a gentleman named Eugene. Eugene is the groundskeeper, and also a great source of advice and craic. We talked about the surrounding area, what we can anticipate up ahead, and the wonderful burden of a father about to see his daughters about to be married. He threw out our boxes, and left after an hour. Helen and I took a short ride out of the town and through a couple rolling hills. Everything checked out, and after a constitutional and change of clothes, we were off to the wedding.
I’ve never been to a conventional Catholic ceremony, although I’m not sure if this was 100% traditional. The priest, Father Joe gave a very nice speech on Shane and Jin, and the ceremony had a lot of music and incorporated some Korean traditions. Father Joe profusely apologized for his Korean pronunciations, but I don’t think anyone minded too much. I also remember him criticizing the church for passing harsh judgment on people who have remarried. Mostly, I remember the couple beaming at each other.
Aside: I’d like to put together a guide for non-Catholics on how to conduct themselves during a Catholic Mass. If I hadn’t been previously advised, I would have taken the Eucharist which is a serious faux pas. I also didn’t know what was with the “peace be with you” part. Any priest reading this, please get in contact with me. Really, I think this could be done for any religion. So, any priest of any religion interested, let me know.
After the wedding, there was plenty of good craic at the reception. Helen and I got earfuls of stories and advice on what to do, what not to do and encouragement to drink various things. Pimms was the big hit of the afternoon. Some of Shane’s cousins were at our table; two of them came close to convincing me that we should stay in Howth instead of Dun Laoghire. There were wonderful toasts, but I wish they had warned me there would have been multiple ones so I wouldn’t have downed my glass with the first of many toasts to the happy couple. After a few hours of conversation and drinking, it was time for bed.
The next day, it was time to depart. After breakfast, we packed up our stuff and started saying goodbyes. Shane, his dad, and I all talked about this hypothetical Yemen trip that we’d all like to go on and promised to keep in touch. I mailed my extra things to Dun Laoghire, gave Eugene the empty suitcase and got ready to ship out. I made the hard decision to leave the Gitzo tripod behind, as there was no easy way to put it on the pack. Any metal-worker, please contact me if you would be interested in helping me manufacture a bike rack that will support a tripod. Easy money. Sadly, the photograph of Helen and I at the start of the trip has not survived. Suffice to say, it’s the two of us grinning silly with loaded bikes and fresh with the feeling of being at the beginning of something grand. A few more good luck wishes and goodbyes, and with that, we were off to Cashel.
Helen would later tell me that she was nervous about keeping up with me on the trip, but I think she lost that sensation after about ten miles on our way to Cashel. I hadn’t anticipated the wind to be as strong as it was, or my burden to feel so heavy. I also made a big mistake when I put my telephoto lens in my backpack, because after an hour, I felt it dig in to the nice fleshy spot above my kidneys and started to feel a fair amount of back pain. This, along with some expected headwinds and unexpected leg cramps had me inching along at a pathetic 8mph for a good chunk of the journey, making it an inauspicious start. Helen was pretty high on life though, reminding me about every fifteen minutes that we were ACTUALLY IN IRELAND and the trip was no longer in the planning stage, but the execution stage.
Sunny South East my foot
Helen and I were very distressed at the amount of advertising we saw for lousy American beer.
Eventually, we started to get rained on and pulled over to put on our rain gear. Oddly enough, that’s when I started to find my rhythm and stopped struggling so much. Eventually, I saw the rock rising over the plains of Tipperary and we rode in to town. The rain had let up when we were in town, but we were too late to see the Rock with enough time as well as find a nice place that was still open for dinner. We went to the hostel, which is adjacent to Hore Abbey and spent some time exploring it.
I found it really interesting that we were allowed to just wander all over this old and ancient site. Hore Abbey is about 750 years old, making it twice as old as pretty much every surviving structure in the US, so I’m used to treating old sites with a hands-off attitude. But here was a gorgeous ruin, unsupervised and free for both humans and cows to explore. We hopped a fence and walked up to the abbey. The lighting wasn’t exactly great; it would be about five hours until sunrise so we just wandered all over the abbey. I was surprised to see tombstones inside the abbey. Much later, someone explained that when a church or monastery or any holy site falls in to disrepair, it is usually converted in to a cemetery. The ground has been consecrated, so it might as well be used for something holy.
I was a little cheesed to see that the back scaffolding was under construction, but I suppose its better than the thing collapsing on our heads.
We hung out for an hour, then walked around looking for dinner and Cashel blue cheese. Most spots indicated in the guidebook were closed, and we weren’t adventurous enough to go for some pub grub, so we went to an Indian restaurant. The waiter was a fun guy to chat with, and the only brown guy I would see until we got to Galway. We discussed how he got to Ireland, places he’s lived and our mutual love for Lady Gaga.
Helen went for a run and I investigated boat packages for Killarney in the hostel, then we horsed around in the abbey around sunset before turning in for the night.
The next day, I woke up absurdly early and snuck out to wander that same Abbey. Like I said, I love ancient places. We then walked the town at 8AM, grabbed breakfast which for me was rhubarb pie and coffee, and made our way to the Rock of Cashel.
The Rock of Cashel is a fort that was occupied by the Kings of Munster. The dominant feature now is the cathedral, built in the 13th century. The Rock has a long and bloody history of wars and massacres, and is eerie to wander around inside. I highly endorse Rick Steves’ guide, because it gives a pretty good description of the interior. I remember a lot of the artwork had intentional inaccuracies to symbolize man’s imperfection, like drawings of hands with too many fingers or arches built slightly off-center.
The Rock also looks over the plains of Tipperary, and I looked at the next part of our trip trying to judge the wind and the weather. Mostly though, I just enjoyed the view.
After that, we grabbed our stuff from the hostel and headed off to Limerick Junction via Tipperary. When we exited Cashel, there was a sign that said warned of how many accidents there had been on this stretch of road, which wasn’t exactly reassuring. There were a few steep hills and a strong headwind towards the end, but we made it to the station in time for a train in the mid afternoon to Killarney.
Once there, we figured that the Black Valley wasn’t going to happen, so we found a spot to stay and explored Killarney for a while. Helen gave me a scare when she went about a roundabout the wrong way, and we spent a good 5 minutes trying to find each other after we had gone in different directions. There was plenty of light, so we walked for a few hours in the park on some nice trails. The ride to the park was great because it was the first time we could ride without panniers on. I had us going 20mph for a good stretch of that road. After dinner, we wandered through a fair and a concert, then went back and turned in.
Ross Castle
Boats tied up near the castle.
As we walked by this cannon, Helen remarked that "Guys always want pictures next to guns." So I had to oblige.
Helen decided to have some fun with long-exposure shots.
Summary of that days riding
This trip began nine years ago, when three college freshmen showed up a week early to learn how to fix computers for a work-study job. After nine years, Shane decided to get married in Ireland and invited me to join. I was originally planning on declining, until I got a couple timely bonuses from work and found myself thinking “Why not?” Later, when I was chatting with Helen on IM, I somehow invited her and she somehow accepted. What started off as a weeklong circuit on the eastern coast became this trip. “Go big, or go home.”
Helen and I are not experienced bikers. Before we started planning and training, I don’t think I had ever ridden more than twenty kilometers, or with any kind of weight. Neither she nor I have done a bike tour either, and I’m certainly no expert traveler. I’ve never been to Europe, or really out of the country. So to say that I have some apprehensions is an understatement.
Training wise, I started riding between 50km and 100km on the weekends. I got a bike trainer and rode it while watching nature documentaries, making a point to gun it whenever there was a nice predator-prey chase sequence. I also started bike commuting. Helen started doing some riding as well. By the time the trip date rolled around, I felt reasonably confident that I’d be able to do the route. Helen later told me that she had some doubts about her biking ability, but didn’t let it show too much.
I upgraded to a Bianchi Volpe shortly before the trip, and consider myself a satisfied customer. I also picked up a pair of Ortleib panniers because it rains from time to time in Seattle, as well as Ireland. I passed on the fenders to save a little weight, figuring that my stuff is waterproof enough. I packed a decent amount of synthetics, wool, and padded cycling briefs. For some reason, I packed a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt, thinking that there would be times when I should “look nice.” I also brought a suit for the wedding, but did not plan to take that on the cycling portion of the trip. Electronics-wise, I brought my phone, Zune, Kindle and netbook, which meant bringing four separate charging cables. Boo. Camera-wise, I brought my 40D, 24-70L, 200-400 (in vain hopes of any wildlife photography), flash, big tripod and little tripod. I was glad we decided not to camp, so I could spare another 10lbs camping gear.
Bike, packed up and ready to go
Wool socks, very important
Helen and I did a lot of planning. We took a few weekends and planned out the entire route, booked lodging (which turned out to be unnecessary) and spent the next few months getting psyched. This was an especially big deal for me since I have never really traveled internationally, aside from day trips to Canada and family trips to India. This would be the first time I’d really get to explore another country, and experience their culture.
Packing the bike took two tries to get right. Eventually, I was able to put that monster in and had enough room to pad the sides. Everything was zip-tied pretty securely, so I felt pretty confident that my bike would make it in one piece. Those zip ties where very useful and I now consider a necessity for packing stuff. My other stuff was packed pretty quickly in one suitcase. I tried to sleep that night, but didn’t really get any and figured I’d get some sleep on the upcoming 8AM departure.
Scott was kind enough to bring me to the airport at 6AM and I got to the United check-in counter. I was shocked to see a massive line this early in the morning, but I guess a lot of people had plans. I had a large suitcase and bicycle, and had to drag my stuff through the line.
The flight to Chicago may have been eventful, but I don’t remember much of it. I was in a semiconscious state for most of it. I can rarely get any kind of satisfying sleep on a plane. It is about as restful as dozing off in a lecture, where your head is tilting forward and snapping backwards every fifteen minutes. Ordinarily, I can just power through periods where I don’t sleep enough, but the physically demanding nature of this trip has given me cause for concern.
In Chicago, I proceeded to get lost in the tunnel network of O’Hare trying to get to my terminal. For the record, seeing the departure gate board read T5 does not make you think “Terminal 5” but “Gate T5.” Eventually, I made it there and met up with Emma, another friend of Jin and Shane who was also planning on cycle touring the Ring of Kerry and Beara Peninsula. She wouldn’t be with us, but we exchanged a good amount of information.
I was awake for most of the evening flight, and spent it reading some books on my Kindle and just mulling things over. Around 430AM, I looked out the window and saw another plane speeding along parallel to us. It isn’t easy to take a picture out the side of an aircraft, but I did my best here. I think I watched us fly next to this plane for a good half hour before we overtook it and left it in our vapor trail.
I watched random things that were on the inflight broadcast. I particularly remember a recording of a Celtic Woman concert at Kilkenny Castle. I determined that Kilkenny was not nearly as spectacular as I had thought from some guidebooks and axed it from the itinerary. I also noticed that music video directors can’t stay focused on a subject for more than three seconds without cutting away to a new shot. Stop doing that! Those of us who have not have our attention spans ruined by music television deserve a nice shot of an attractive Irish diva for a good 30 seconds.
First glimpse of Ireland
I got off the plane, waited in a long passport line and was asked “business or pleasure” by the passport official. I was tempted to reply “Cycling is my main business!” but decided that it would not be a smart way to enter the country. There would be many future opportunities to embarrass myself.
I turned on my phone and was a little annoyed to see that Helen was running two hours late. I grabbed my luggage and bike box, and found a spot to hang out. I was horrified to see though, that the fork had punched through the bottom of the box. I made a note to better pack that next time, fixed the box and settled in with my book and some tea to wait for my partner.
Helen and I have known each other for nine years, and become close friends over the past two, but our relationship has been through the phone and instant messenger. So it was really wonderful to see the woman behind the keyboard after so long. We were both pretty nervous about this trip, and when I returned from a trip to the bathroom, I saw her praying for a safe journey. We had to wait a bit for a coach to Durrow, and were slightly worried that we were on the wrong bus for a bit, but eventually came to a stop outside Castle Durrow. We unloaded from the bus, and the Irish weather welcomed us with a brief torrential downpour. I ran in to the castle lobby to see if anyone could loan us a cart. Luckily, one of the bellhops had a car and we threw all our stuff in there for a drive to our room. A couple bellhops helped us get a net total of six bags and two bicycles in to our room.
Castle Durrow isn’t a medieval stronghold, but more of a villa built around what was once a small castle. We showered, decompressed and snacked on a couple scones that Emma was kind enough to have sent to our room. Then, we had some time to kill before the welcome barbecue so we explored the grounds and walked through the gardens. I briefly entertained the thought of playing tennis on a grass court, but it was time soon time to eat.
I got to meet a Reid, an old friend from Penn at the reunion and learn more about Shane’s dark and sordid past. I also got to meet his dad, who I have heard crazy stories of involving Indonesian revolutions, cross-country skiing with a keg of Guinness and the fact that we both want to Socotra Island someday. I was unable to partake in the Korean barbecue but was told by Helen that it was “gooooooood.”
Helen and I also drank our first Guinness in Ireland. Many people say that Guinness tastes better in Ireland, and it’s more than just legend. Reasons include:
• Bartenders know that pouring a pint is a long process, and a smart one at a party will have a few pints that have already settled.
• Guinness has quality-control representatives that ensure that the tap lines are cleaned out every three weeks.
• The longer the beer is in the keg, the more the taste will degrade.
• You having a total blast and everything tastes better
Strangely enough, this was the first beer I’ve had with Reid and he seemed to take it as an opportunity to “beer-mentor” me. Helen and I also downed two pints of Bulmer’s Cider, which puts most of our bottled and canned cider to shame. At this point, I felt the need to join in with the karaoke and joined the chorus of “Bohemian Rhapsody.” Fatigue and jet lag soon got the better of both us, and we went and crashed.
I woke up at 5AM the next day and snuck out to wander the grounds some. I erred in not bringing my camera, because there were a couple nice shots of horses in the mist. I read for some time in the drawing room, found Helen and walked more of the grounds before breakfast. In a sign of things to come, we ate a large amount of toast, and I rediscovered that jam is really freaking good. Helen got the infamous black and white pudding, which prompted a couple at an adjacent table to say “You know what that is, right?” She was a big fan of the black pudding and I wolfed down the eggs.
Next, since it was still morning, we started assembling our bikes. My concerns about the fork were unfounded, and both of us would have been ready for a test ride in less than half an hour, were it not for a gentleman named Eugene. Eugene is the groundskeeper, and also a great source of advice and craic. We talked about the surrounding area, what we can anticipate up ahead, and the wonderful burden of a father about to see his daughters about to be married. He threw out our boxes, and left after an hour. Helen and I took a short ride out of the town and through a couple rolling hills. Everything checked out, and after a constitutional and change of clothes, we were off to the wedding.
I’ve never been to a conventional Catholic ceremony, although I’m not sure if this was 100% traditional. The priest, Father Joe gave a very nice speech on Shane and Jin, and the ceremony had a lot of music and incorporated some Korean traditions. Father Joe profusely apologized for his Korean pronunciations, but I don’t think anyone minded too much. I also remember him criticizing the church for passing harsh judgment on people who have remarried. Mostly, I remember the couple beaming at each other.
Aside: I’d like to put together a guide for non-Catholics on how to conduct themselves during a Catholic Mass. If I hadn’t been previously advised, I would have taken the Eucharist which is a serious faux pas. I also didn’t know what was with the “peace be with you” part. Any priest reading this, please get in contact with me. Really, I think this could be done for any religion. So, any priest of any religion interested, let me know.
After the wedding, there was plenty of good craic at the reception. Helen and I got earfuls of stories and advice on what to do, what not to do and encouragement to drink various things. Pimms was the big hit of the afternoon. Some of Shane’s cousins were at our table; two of them came close to convincing me that we should stay in Howth instead of Dun Laoghire. There were wonderful toasts, but I wish they had warned me there would have been multiple ones so I wouldn’t have downed my glass with the first of many toasts to the happy couple. After a few hours of conversation and drinking, it was time for bed.
The next day, it was time to depart. After breakfast, we packed up our stuff and started saying goodbyes. Shane, his dad, and I all talked about this hypothetical Yemen trip that we’d all like to go on and promised to keep in touch. I mailed my extra things to Dun Laoghire, gave Eugene the empty suitcase and got ready to ship out. I made the hard decision to leave the Gitzo tripod behind, as there was no easy way to put it on the pack. Any metal-worker, please contact me if you would be interested in helping me manufacture a bike rack that will support a tripod. Easy money. Sadly, the photograph of Helen and I at the start of the trip has not survived. Suffice to say, it’s the two of us grinning silly with loaded bikes and fresh with the feeling of being at the beginning of something grand. A few more good luck wishes and goodbyes, and with that, we were off to Cashel.
Helen would later tell me that she was nervous about keeping up with me on the trip, but I think she lost that sensation after about ten miles on our way to Cashel. I hadn’t anticipated the wind to be as strong as it was, or my burden to feel so heavy. I also made a big mistake when I put my telephoto lens in my backpack, because after an hour, I felt it dig in to the nice fleshy spot above my kidneys and started to feel a fair amount of back pain. This, along with some expected headwinds and unexpected leg cramps had me inching along at a pathetic 8mph for a good chunk of the journey, making it an inauspicious start. Helen was pretty high on life though, reminding me about every fifteen minutes that we were ACTUALLY IN IRELAND and the trip was no longer in the planning stage, but the execution stage.
Sunny South East my foot
Helen and I were very distressed at the amount of advertising we saw for lousy American beer.
Eventually, we started to get rained on and pulled over to put on our rain gear. Oddly enough, that’s when I started to find my rhythm and stopped struggling so much. Eventually, I saw the rock rising over the plains of Tipperary and we rode in to town. The rain had let up when we were in town, but we were too late to see the Rock with enough time as well as find a nice place that was still open for dinner. We went to the hostel, which is adjacent to Hore Abbey and spent some time exploring it.
I found it really interesting that we were allowed to just wander all over this old and ancient site. Hore Abbey is about 750 years old, making it twice as old as pretty much every surviving structure in the US, so I’m used to treating old sites with a hands-off attitude. But here was a gorgeous ruin, unsupervised and free for both humans and cows to explore. We hopped a fence and walked up to the abbey. The lighting wasn’t exactly great; it would be about five hours until sunrise so we just wandered all over the abbey. I was surprised to see tombstones inside the abbey. Much later, someone explained that when a church or monastery or any holy site falls in to disrepair, it is usually converted in to a cemetery. The ground has been consecrated, so it might as well be used for something holy.
I was a little cheesed to see that the back scaffolding was under construction, but I suppose its better than the thing collapsing on our heads.
We hung out for an hour, then walked around looking for dinner and Cashel blue cheese. Most spots indicated in the guidebook were closed, and we weren’t adventurous enough to go for some pub grub, so we went to an Indian restaurant. The waiter was a fun guy to chat with, and the only brown guy I would see until we got to Galway. We discussed how he got to Ireland, places he’s lived and our mutual love for Lady Gaga.
Helen went for a run and I investigated boat packages for Killarney in the hostel, then we horsed around in the abbey around sunset before turning in for the night.
The next day, I woke up absurdly early and snuck out to wander that same Abbey. Like I said, I love ancient places. We then walked the town at 8AM, grabbed breakfast which for me was rhubarb pie and coffee, and made our way to the Rock of Cashel.
The Rock of Cashel is a fort that was occupied by the Kings of Munster. The dominant feature now is the cathedral, built in the 13th century. The Rock has a long and bloody history of wars and massacres, and is eerie to wander around inside. I highly endorse Rick Steves’ guide, because it gives a pretty good description of the interior. I remember a lot of the artwork had intentional inaccuracies to symbolize man’s imperfection, like drawings of hands with too many fingers or arches built slightly off-center.
The Rock also looks over the plains of Tipperary, and I looked at the next part of our trip trying to judge the wind and the weather. Mostly though, I just enjoyed the view.
After that, we grabbed our stuff from the hostel and headed off to Limerick Junction via Tipperary. When we exited Cashel, there was a sign that said warned of how many accidents there had been on this stretch of road, which wasn’t exactly reassuring. There were a few steep hills and a strong headwind towards the end, but we made it to the station in time for a train in the mid afternoon to Killarney.
Once there, we figured that the Black Valley wasn’t going to happen, so we found a spot to stay and explored Killarney for a while. Helen gave me a scare when she went about a roundabout the wrong way, and we spent a good 5 minutes trying to find each other after we had gone in different directions. There was plenty of light, so we walked for a few hours in the park on some nice trails. The ride to the park was great because it was the first time we could ride without panniers on. I had us going 20mph for a good stretch of that road. After dinner, we wandered through a fair and a concert, then went back and turned in.
Ross Castle
Boats tied up near the castle.
As we walked by this cannon, Helen remarked that "Guys always want pictures next to guns." So I had to oblige.
Helen decided to have some fun with long-exposure shots.
Summary of that days riding
posted by Mehal at 6:24 PM
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