Ireland 2019

[Dr. Ivor Yeti]

Indeed.

[Greg]

Do people still send postcards?

[Drunk Monk]

Do people still send postcards?

Oh hell yeah.  It's a little pricier than a sitonmyfacebookgram post, but tangible and a far more targeted way to gloat.  Didn't I send you one from Dublin?  If not, I should've...Because I wanted to gloat.

[Greg]

Truth be told, I was actually planning to send postcards from this trip. Already planning the list.

[Greg]

I'm on a plane!

[Drunk Monk]

I'm on a plane!

free wifi?

[Greg]

Ha! How do you expect airlines to survive by giving away wifi?

[Greg]

It's 2:45am local time and I am wide awake. So, wide awake. Never going to sleep again awake.

[Drunk Monk]

Well then. Tell us about your adventures today.

So we can be jealous.

[Greg]

You asked.

Ireland: The Approach

Oh my god did we make good time on the the drive to the airport. Time enough to stop for lunch at the Casa De Fruta. And we still could have made a good thirty minute stop in Milbrae to chat with the Yeti if Victory fencing was still in Milbrae. There was no in the line at the check-in desk. TSA was a minor inconvenience at best. And the Queen because of her major travel skills got us a pass into the United Club despite the fact we weren’t flying United. We got to wait in the United Club lounge in the comfy chairs with free snacks and drinks  for the three hours.

After the experiences on Aer Lingus, I wish we had flown with United. 

Aer Lingus was always the gold standard to fly to Ireland. They always treated me well  and the service was great. It doesn’t hurt that my first flight to Ireland 40 years ago was in Business Class. Yes, I did the math (It was really tricky math using a function called ‘subtraction’) and figured out it was 40 years ago that I first went to Ireland.

So, I booked the flight on line. And the way things are now with airlines, it’s all about the add-ons. I added on the bags. I paid extra for a seat up front. There was even a section where I could pre-order meals. Which I did despite the fact they were horrendously expensive.

My first mistake was booking out seat right up against the bulkhead instead of one row back from the bulkhead so I could have some leg room. We started to watch our movies, of which where they were plenty I wanted to see. But there was something wrong with the headphones or the jack, they supplied us, because all I could hear was static. And I had to hear it at full volume or I wouldn’t be able to hear anything.

After a lot of fiddling with the plug, the sound got minimally better. But I had to press on the plug to actually get any sound. I found out that if I just the right ear plug and not the left ear plug, I would get less distortion. It was a crappy way to watch the musical ‘Yesterday’

They brought us our expensive dinners during the movie. They were marginal at best. The Queen was happy that wine came with the meal. But it came on china with real silverware. But while I was getting my overpriced meal, everybody else was getting their meal for free. Sure, there wasn’t china and silverware, but it was basically the same meal.

On the bulkhead in front of our seat was mounted a monitor to give the flight status. It showed the wind speed, distance traveled and where in the world the plane was at the moment. I like seeing that map because it gave me a sense of how much longer I would have to spend with my feet pressed up against the bulkhead.

I got about 3/4 quarters of the way through John Wick 3 before I started to fall asleep. I found another pair of ear buds that I didn’t have to push against to make work. I still had to use only side and at full volume to avoid the static.

I turned off my monitor and prepared to get a couple of hours of sleep. 

Yeah, not so much. The status monitor in front of us constantly changed brightness levels every few seconds as it cycled through the information it was sharing. Even through my closed eyelids, I could see it flicker. When it showed the map, it was incredibly bright. It was like a torture device sitting right in front of my face.

I was able to move to an empty seat a few rows back but the flickering of the monitor was still visible.
One of the other reasons for the seat up front was to be near the toilet. The first thing the air crew did was to put a sign on the door informing us we had to go to the back of the plane and use the toile there since this toile was now the exclusive use of the first class passengers.

To sum up, Aer Lingus made me sad.

On the plus side, when the flight was over, we were in Dublin.

The Queen was in charge of renting the car. Yes, it’s a stick. Yes, the stick is on the left side. So, suck it to all the people  who brag about their prowess driving a manual car. Come back and we’ll talk when you can do it with the opposite hand.

We got a nice Kia Sportage. The man at the desk said it didn’t have Apple Airplay but it did have built in navigation. Cool.

The first thing the dashboard screened informed us was that Sat/Nav was not available. Not Cool.

Our first stop for the night was going to to be the Rock of Cashel which is about a 2 hour drive south of Dublin. Unless you are going to be making stops. Guess what? We would be making stops. What could be better than a couple of sleep deprived people driving on the wrong side of the road for a couple of hours? It seems like a very sensible plan

About ninety minutes into the drive, I started to get panicky about whether we were on the right path to the Bronwshill Portal Tomb, our first stop. Which coincidentally, was one of our first stops when I brought the Queen to Ireland for the first time back in 2001.

I plugged in my phone to start charging it. I instantly got a message that asked if I would like to unlock Apple Airplay for this car. Yes. Yes, I would. Suddenly, I had maps and podcasts and the world was good.

The Dolmen was completely unfamiliar except for the sign in the car park. But it was still an awesome chunk of rock. It is supposed to have the largest capstone of any Dolmen in Ireland. We met two nice people, both of whom were characters. We met a man coming in who wanted to know where we were going. When he asked us about Trump, I said we were Canadian. He laughed.

We met a woman coming out of the park who had a Queen magnet in the form of a dog named Rupert. She gave us Ruperts’ full history from being a rescue dog until the time we met.

We went to a restaurant called Toughers for lunch. The place was called Toughers. We had to go there. The food was really good and I knew I was back in Ireland when they gave me potatoes with my potatoes. I had mashed potatoes and chips with my chicken.

Our next stop was the Dunmore Cave. Legend has it the Vikings massacred a 1000 people in the cave. They found a lot of remains but not quite that many. We were the last tour and it was just the queen and I. We saw a bunch of softies complaining about the 700 stairs coming up as we headed down.

Our guide through in local folklore along with the geological history. We were told to look for fairies and the ghost of a witch from Kilkenny. The cave was small but just the right size for a quick tour for the sleep deprived.

On the way to Cashel, we got to drive through some very narrow lanes due to the fact that there was a town on the route that had blocked all access through the town. No one could go to Freshford. There were road blocks all around us. We drove into many hedgerows to allow cars to navigate passed us.

We probably could have stopped a million times to take pictures of odd places. I regret tremendously not getting a picture of the sign for Prumplestown. All the local communities advertised lotteries to raise money for their GAA sports clubs. Every town had their flags for the upcoming matches.

Cloud cover and exhaustion made our stop in Cashel a non-starter. The Rock of Cashel looked great as we drove by but it was too dark to take photos.

At this point, the satellite gave up and wouldn’t give us the map to our B&B for the night, Tir Na Nog B&B in Dualla. But I remembered just enough of it’s location to find it.

We are the only guests for the night. Our host Timothy would have sat and chatted with me about Irish sports all night but we needed to get food in me and the Queen before she passed out. 

We dined back in Cashel at Bailey’s Cellar Restaurant. We only had to wander around a little bit before we found it. We ate there at the recommendation of Timothy.

And then we want back to Tir Na Nog and fell asleep. Only to awake at 1:30 and couldn’t get back to sleep.

Tomorrow, we drive to Cork.

[Drunk Monk]

Bummer about aer lingus. I have fond memories of flying with them a few years ago.

Jealous of the rest though, except the potato overload. That cave sounds really cool.

[Greg]

Day One - Cashel to Cork

I finally managed to get a few hours of sleep after I went back to bed. So much so, that the alarm woke me at 7am. I’ve heard rumors of 7am but this is the first time I woke to that time.

Sun up in Ireland arrives 8:15, which for me is halfway through the day. But The Queen and I opted to go back to the Rock of Cashel to get some sunrise pictures. Although the sun was up, it hid behind plenty of clouds. We did what we could. We didn’t stay as long as we could, because told Tommy our host at the Tir Na Nog B&B that we would be back at 8:30 for breakfast.

Breakfast was the usual Irish experience. We both made the mistake of asking for full Irish to which I also added oatmeal. I wasn’t thinking. I admit it. Full Irish means sausage, bacon, eggs, black pudding, white pudding, mushrooms, beans and half a tomato. Too much food by a long margin. You could have the eggs any way you want them as long as they are fried.

Tommy opted to join us so we could talk about everything. The main topic of discussion though was GAA sports. We made side trips into the greatness of Oman where his daughter works teaching English. Of course there was mention of the state of Irish politics. I think if Tommy didn’t have things to do and we didn’t have places to go, we’d still be in the breakfast nook solving the world’s problems.

Our first stop of the day was the Gaulstown Dolmen. Google Maps was kind enough to lead us right to it. If we didn’t have the Google, we never would have found it. The Dolmen was way off the beaten path. And a good thing too. Because the space to see it was tiny. It was on a farmer’s property and they fenced off just a small area to see it. If a tour bus had shown up, it would have been a nightmare. But it was just The Queen and I. And Mr. Sun who peaked out from behind the clouds and lit up the glade where the Dolmen resided.

Our next stop was Bunmahon in County Waterford. There is a geopark there for a scenic drive along the Copper Coast. They dug a lot of copper out of the ground there. Only one little problem. There was no cell or internet connection at the Gaulstown Dolmen. There was no way to refresh Google Maps to get directions. And we far away from even the second or tertiary roads.

I managed to retrace our steps through the narrow lanes and past the hedgerow cutter(what an awesome piece of machinery) to get back to the sign pointing to Bunmahon. That was the last sign we saw to Bunmahon for quite awhile. We did get to drive through Kill on our lost wanderings.

At this point, deep in the heart of trackless County Waterford, the Queen announced that if we didn’t find a bathroom soon there was going to be trouble. I kept figuring we had to be close to Bunmahon and the Geopark Visitor center. Eventually, we did pop out onto to a road that had signs for the Geopark.

You know what happens during the off-season in Ireland? They close most of the remote visitor centers during the week. The Bunmahon Copper Coast Geopark was no exception. The look of dismay on the Queen’s face was not something you wanted to see.

We sped back down to the town in quest for a shop or a gas station. Bunmahon was too small to have any of those niceties. But they did have a beach. And the beach had public toilets. The public toilets also had locks, locks that are opened on weekends.

We raced down the coast to the next town of Stradbally. There was a sign in the city center pointing to the public toilets. They must be right proud of those toilets to have a sign pointing to them. But like Bunmahon before, the Stradbally toilets were also locked. I was coming to the conclusion that people in this area only went to the toilet during the summer months and on weekends in the off season.

We sped down the coast passing numerous sites that begged to be photographed. Dramtic coastlines. Ruins. Hundred years old bridges. They all vanished quickly in the rear view mirror.

Fifteen kilometers later in Dungarvan, The Queen found relief in Kimmy’s Kitchen. We also had quite a nice lunch there.

We pushed onto Cobh (pronounced cove) in order to do the Titanic Experience, see St. Colman’s Cathedral and take a photograph of a colorful group of houses called ‘The Deck of Cards’

Rain started to pick up during the drive. The Queen spent a lot of time checking her eyelids for holes. The trip into Cobh was problematic due to road closures and diversions. By the time we pulled into the carpark behind the Cathedral, the rain was coming down in a pretty good clip. We briefly stopped into the cathedral for some snapshots.

The Titanic Experience is in the building that used to be the dock and ticket office for the White Star line. Bits of the deck are still there. Probably the most fun part of the tour was that we were each given a ticket of a person who sailed from Cobh on the Titanic. At the end of the tour you got to check the records to see if you lived or died. I was given the ticket of a doctor who was the only male first class passenger to sail on the ship. The Queen was given a young woman down in steerage. Naturally, she lived and I died.

Afterwards we went to the heritage center to learn more about Cobh. Learning the trick from the Titanic experience, the Cobh Heritage center also gave us a card with a name of someone who had sailed from Cobh. Once again I died and Cindi lived. 

In the driving rain we climbed up to the Deck of Cards and took the picture everyone takes. It must be like living on Lombard street for the people on that street with a constant parade of people.

At the heritage center I got some wifi reception so I was able to load in a map back to our guesthouse in Cork. It would have taken us a lot longer to get there if I hadn’t. Even still Google hates us and took us down some of the narrowest two lane streets in the world. I use the words ‘Two Lane’ generously. In a couple spots, there was barely room for my car and I had cars coming towards me.

We are spending the night at the Gabriel Guesthouse on Barrow Lane. It’s on a slight step overlooking the train station. No elevators, so we had to schlep our bags up three flights of stairs to the second floor. It was worth. We seem to be in a corner room. We have this big bay window that looks out to who knows what.

For dinner we ventured into Cork for dinner at the Oliver Plunkett Bar. It was quite the tourist place. Upstairs was the Frisky Whiskey Bar. They were setting up the stage to play live music. We didn’t last that long.

As fate would have it, the Cork Jazz festival is going on this week. Most of the pubs and bars seem to have some sort of musical act performing as part of the Jazz festival. It’s sponsored by Guinness. Too bad this is a Beamish town. Supposedly for the jazz festival they are supposed to cover up all the bar taps that aren’t Guinness products.

We hiked back across the Lee River and up the hill to our Guesthouse. I was asleep by 9am and back awake at midnight. Jetlag sucks.

[Drunk Monk]

Mmmmm Irish breakfasts.  

RE: Your bathroom quest.  Did you not learn anything in Yosemite?  Cat holes, brother.  Dig a cat hole.  You like cats.  Be a cat. 

[Greg]

All Day in Cork Thursday Oct 24

All Day in Cork

It’s hard to schedule things with the sun coming up at 8:15. I have stuff to do and I want start doing them at my normal time of 5:30 or 6. Stupid sun. And since the sun comes up late, they don’t serve breakfast until late. I do spend a lot of time cursing these horrible conditions. What’s a tourist to do. 

Originally, I was going to go to Blarney at 9am, the Cork Gaol at 10 and then be at the Cork City Walk tours at 11am. From what I know now, that is just insanity. Especially when you look at the road in front of the Gabriel Gueshouse and see a line of cars backed up forever, waiting for the world’s shortest traffic light at the bottom of the hill.

I came to my senses and decided we would just hang out until 10 and go into Cork for the 11am Walking Tour. We could get out to Blarney in the afternoon. We had been to Blarney before on our first trip and we had kissed the stone, but we had been driven from the castle grounds by hordes of screaming children. Plus, it had been overcast and the pictures we took were poor.

As a bonus to the Queen, she got to hang in the room and read for a couple of hours without being dragged around. As for me, sitting around when there are things to see never sees to happen.

The day started foggy but it was a nice change from all the rain we experienced in the journey into Cobh. We had a great breakfast in the spacious dining room of the Guesthouse. I learned later that all the eggs came from chickens living in hutches just outside the building in the garden area that fronted the Guesthouse.

After breakfast, Cindi opted to read in the room. I figured to use the time by going to see Christian Brothers Cork Secondary School. They were the biggest rival to my school in Limerick, Crescent College Comprehensive. I wanted to see where the enemy lived. It was near the Gabriel Guesthouse up some street called St. Patrick’s Hill.

When they said hill they weren’t kidding. Climbing all the stairs to the top reminded me of San Francisco. Plus, the schools were all starting at the time of my hike and there must have been a dozen schools in the area, so I was surrounded by school kids the entire time. I didn’t feel like a creepy old man at all. Not even a little bit.

I was having school flashbacks as well because they were all in uniforms that looked just like the uniforms all the kids in Limerick would wear. Although the phones and earbuds showed me some things had changed.

I completely missed the entrance to the school the first time. All it was was a doorway in a 100 year old grey cement wall. The kids were all going through, but it didn’t look any school. Google decided since I was walking, I should go to the walking entrance instead of the drive in entrance much further down the hall.

What can I say, Christian Brothers Cork was just another big preparatory academy much like you find in the states.

Since I was out, I headed back into Cork proper to see what I could see. I went by the Cork Opera House. I saw the famous English Market. And best of all I went to Eeson’s Book store. Eason’s is the book chain in Ireland. They are in all the major cities and they have books. And newspapers. And they let you just wander around browsing books. I haven’t done that in so long. Although, I did have the sad thought that there will probably come a time when Eason’s is no more. All Ireland needs is a fleet of brown vans.

Most of the heart of Cork is retail. Tons of shops. It was like being in mall surrounded by statues of dead guys.

By the time I got back to the Guesthouse, the fog had burned away and the sun was shining. I took the opportunity to explore the garden. That’s where I noticed the hutches with the chickens, geese, and turkeys. After I got the Queen from the room, I took her down to see the fowls. Their keeper was there and he showed us his birds. He even gave us an egg which was still warm from the chicken. 

Our tour guide was Jack and he had information bursting from all his pores. Which was a good thing. We learned a ton of stories. Most of which will be gone by the time the trip ends. What I thought would be a quick 90 minute tour turned into an exhaustive 3 hour stroll. And we didn’t cover all that much ground. Looking back, it seemed we just wound our way through just a couple of streets. But we learned so much.

The big thing was that Cork, much like Venice was built on several island in the Lee River and over the course of time the island were all connected and the waterways and marsh covered to make the modern city. The streets all conform to the waterways that still flow below them. When the remnants of Superstorm Sandy left the east coast, it came to Cork and did 300 million dollars worth of damage.

The big thing going on at the moment in town is the Cork Jazz Festival. It’s just by coincidence we are here at the same time. But Jack gave us a lot information about the festival and the best pubs to see the musicians. Since most of it starts going at 9pm or later, we are not going to be seeing a lot of that.

We toured the English Market which is one of the oldest fresh food markets in the world. It’s so popular even Queen Elizabeth stopped in for a visit. The fish monger who led the tour made the Queen laugh and has been invited to Buckingham Palace three times because of that.

Jack took us to the Imperial Hotel where Michael Collins spent his last night before being killed in ambush at Beal na Blath in West Cork. It’s also the hotel were Frederick Douglas stayed when he was in town. The ladies of Cork were so taken by Douglass, they all chipped in and gave him money so he could by his freedom when he returned to the United States.

There is a social divide between the North and South sides of the cities. The South was wealthy and the tenements were in the North. Don’t call them Nories. It’s a perjorative. Oddly, our Guesthouse was in the North Side, but in one of the richer neighborhoods.

So much information. My brain felt full at the end of it.

By this time, we had walked about five miles, so we took a cab up to the historic Cork Gaol. it was an old Gaol. It didn’t have the stunning architecture or history of Dublin’s Kilmainham, but it was an interesting old building. Since the sun was out, it photographed well. They had recreations all over the jail and the audio guides told us the tales as we walked through the prison. Eventually, I want to crush those audio guides beneath my heel.

Tour Guide enthused so much about the Honan Chapel on the grounds of the University College Cork, I felt compelled to drag the Queen. And by drag I mean took another taxi. Both taxi drivers were both very garrulous. I wonder if they have to pass a talkative test to get the job.
The Honan Chapel was a non-denomination chapel built by the the wealthy Honan family to honor their son killed in World War 1. It caused quite the stir back in the day since it eschewed any particular religion. The Catholics were particularly displeased by this ungodly place. As churches go, it was fine. The mosaics and stained glass windows were all quite nice. But I’ve seen other churches that were more stunning.

We headed back towards town in order to go by Cork’s main Cathedral, St. Fin Bar’s. It was very cathedrally. My main reason for going was to see the canon ball they had found in the walls during a 19th century remodel and now hung in the cathedral.

While we walked the aisles, the organist practiced for the upcoming masses. As The Queen pointed it’s a good thing he was in there practicing.

For dinner, we dined at El Padrino’s Italian restaurant on Cook St. It was one of the thousand restaurants tour guide Jack pointed out that we actually remembered. The two Sicilian men that ran it took their mafia heritage to heart. Good food, too.

Now, I’ve really wanted to stay up late and hear some traditional music at one of the local pubs. And one of them was supposed to be doing just that at 6:30. I could stay up for that. Except by the time we got to the pub, we were informed the music would be starting at 9. I’m a wimp and can’t stay up for that.

We returned to Gabriel’s Guesthouse and were in bed by 9pm. I was back awake at midnight. My brain hates me.

[Greg]

Day Three Cork to Castletown-Berehaven

Day Three - Cork to Castletown-Brere

Cheese and rice we are covering a lot of ground. I may have been a little too ambitious with the tour plans. Plus, I think I’m killing our Kia Sportage.

Having seen all the traffic in front of the Gabriel Guesthouse, I wanted to get as early a start as possible. Which meant pushing the Queen out of bed at 6am. Unlike the day before, rain was already falling and it was forecasted to rain all day. The only snag in the plan was that breakfast wasn’t supposed to be served until 7:30. But I had seen people in the breakfast room as early as 7:15 the day before, so I had hopes.

I dragged all the bags out to the car in the rain and was ready to go by 6:30. We probably should have foregone breakfast, but it’s very hard to pass up an Irish breakfast especially with the really fresh eggs from the garden hutches.

I made the Queen go down to breakfast at 7:10. Our receptionist told us the breakfast wouldn’t start until the actual time. When I mentioned that we were trying to get on the road before the traffic, she relented and let us start breakfast. I am pushy that way.

Google Maps indicated a line of red outside the Guesthouse by the time we said goodbye to the hotel. I tried. I also tried to kill the car.

The driveway out of the hotel was a sharp turn up an incline on wet pavement. I thought I could make the turn without reversing and hit the side planters. I reversed just a little but the wheels were still turned and they fought with the slick pavement for a good few seconds before gaining any traction. The smell of burnt rubber was thick in the car by the time we gained enough traction to make it up the driveway.

We got in line with the rest of the cars heading down the hill to the traffic lights at the bottom of the hill. It went pretty fast and before we knew it we were heading through Cork to get to the other side.

This whole trip I’ve fought with Google Maps on Apple Carplay. I don’t know what it is but so many times when it looks on the map like I should make a turn in a particular direction and then I make the turn in that particular direction, it’s so many times the wrong direction. It could be my nascent dyslexia or it could be Google Maps is just fucking with me. There’s a lot of swearing involved.

There was a lot of swearing involved getting out of Cork. If there was a wrong lane to be in, I managed to get in it. I know I had to go around a roundabout again because I was in the wrong lane. My Cork fellows were kind enough with their horn blasts to show their displeasure as well.

Our first stop was Béal na Bláth, the ambush site of Michael Collins. You might know the story from the Liam Neeson movie. Anyway, the free staters staged an ambush to take out Collins on his way back to Cork. It’s all about death sites and megalithic sites on this trip.

Google only led me astray once on the way. We took a lovely drive up some steep hills to obviously the wrong ambush spot. When we drove back down the hill we spotted the sign we missed that pointed in the right direction.

The ambush memorial was basically a cross by the side of the road and a map showing the spots where the ambushers were hiding and where Collins was shot. It rained steadily as we took a few snapshots.

Now, I had preloaded all the stops into Google maps so the map was still good for our next destination which was the Drombeg Stone Circle. 

More missed turns. More yelling at Google. At some point, the Queen trying to be helpful touched the screen and made the blue line of our journey disappear from the map. We couldn’t find away to get it back. More swearing. Although the turn by turns continued, so we kind of knew where to go.

Here’s the trick to knowing what type of road you on. The smaller the number of digits in the road number the bigger the road. Single digit roads are the motorways where you can go eighty miles an hour. Double digit roads allow you to go pretty fast and there is room for two cars to pass comfortably. Three digit roads are a problem. The sigh says you can go 50 but be prepared to slam on the breaks and pull into the hedgerow on your left if you see a car coming at you. Don’t get me started on four digit roads. And if there is no number, most likely there will be grass in the middle of the road and you best creep along in 2nd or 3rd gear.

The road to Drombeg was a three digit road with an occasional four digit.

The field around the circle flowed with water. The challenge was to find some areas not sodden to walk through. I had thought earlier as I was getting ready for the day, that it might be good idea to wear my trail shoes to get some more traction. I didn’t listen of course and paid the penalty.

As I was making my way down a gentle slope, my feet slipped out from under me. I landed on my ass in what could only be described as a major river. I was instantly soaked to the skin. But because I’m a professional, no damage came to the camera. I turned to look to the Queen. Her eyes were big as saucers in worry. I assured her the only thing damaged was my pride.

The rest of my trek around the circle was much more gingerly. I hate falling and I seem to do it a lot. Mud is my nemesis.

Drombeg is miles from nowhere and whatever had happened to the maps coupled with a lack of cell service made our route to our next stop unavailable. Fortunately, Mizen Head, our next stop was listed on a street sign many miles back. I just needed to find our way back to that sign.

The trip to Mizen Head, the most southerly point in Ireland, was enjoyable and clearly marked. We passed through the delightful town of Leap which was all dressed up for Halloween. There were dozens of mannequins by the road dressed in horrific costumes. There were ghosts hanging from the trees. I stopped to take a picture of one with an axe in his head.

At some point the cell service kicked in and the Google Map of our route reappeared. We stopped at the Altar Wedge tomb because we saw the sign. We ate lunch in Goleen because it was the only restaurant we found. And it had a parking lot in the town. Something the bigger town of Schull did not have. Also there plenty of flags urging us to support our Goleen lads in an upcoming GAA County final match.

Mizen head is the signal station at the edge of the country. It sits on some dramatic cliffs overlooking the Atlantic. There is also a bridge hundreds of feet over a deep blue cove you must cross in order to get to the Signal Station proper. 

As you walk to the bridge and the signal station there are plenty of side paths to get views of the cliffs, water, and caves. The signal station I think was important because Marconi did some of his wireless experiments there. There were displays and placards with note probably giving a fuller picture that I ignored.

It rained the whole time we were there but it was still an amazing place. Despite the weather, we took all the side trails. Off in the distance we could just make out Fastnet Lighthouse. It’s known as Ireland’s Tear because it was the last bit of Ireland that emigrants sailing out of Cobh saw. From the one display I did pay attention to, it must have been a pain in the ass to build.

So, that should have been enough for one day. I should head over to the hotel in Castletown Berehaven. I was getting text messages from the hotel asking when would I arrive.

Nope. That’s not how I make a schedule. We had one more big stop for the day.

At the bottom of Ireland is a series of peninsulas, long narrow sticking out into the Atlantic. Mizen Head is the most southerly. Above it is Sheep’s Head Peninsula. And above that is the Bera Peninsula. We would be spending the night on the Bera Peninsula but our next stop was on the Sheep’s Head.

It was a long drive full of gorgeous scenery. The roads eventually became four digit roads. I believe my fingerprints are permanently embedded in the steering wheel. My knuckles will always be white from now on.

At Mizen, it was only a five minute walk to the bridge. At Sheep’s Head it was a kilometer and a half to the lighthouse. It drizzled a little. We were a little tired. We almost bypassed the off shoot path to Akeen loch because we just wanted the hike to be done. But we took it and were rewarded for our efforts. It was a great view point of the loch. Sunlight would have made it better.

The Queen found some cliffs to stand at the edge of. We harassed the sheep who were all about. Their poop was all about as well, so a lot of time was spent looking where you walked. We almost gave up seeing the lighthouse because it didn’t seem like we would ever get there.

I went on ahead and found a spot where I could see it. I took my picture. The Queen ventured down as well. It would probably have been better for us if this was the only adventure for the day but it was our fourth.

It was getting late. I wanted to get off these narrow roads before complete darkness fell. Along with open toilets, the Irish don’t believe in street lights. At least it was only a ninety minute drive to Castletown Berehaven.

I might have driven a little faster than safety required but I was ready to be done with this drive. Fortunately, the roads improved as we left Sheep’s Head and made our way to Beara. And no matter how fast I drove, there was always an Irish driver coming up behind me going faster.

We didn’t see much of Castletown-Berehaven on the way in. We just wanted to check in. This required calling Rebecca to lest us in. Our rooms are above the restaurant which is the main concern of Lynch’s on the Pier. Yes, I chose the hotel because of the name. And it did have good reviews, but yes, the name.

I’m going to come right out and say it, Castletown-Berehaven probably isn’t going to win awards for most scenic place. Our hotel is probably in the least scenic place in C-town-B. From our window, we can see the gas storage tanks of the petrol station across the lane. The building next to ours is empty. On the other side is the pier and we can see the fishing fleet.

For dinner we went to Murphys. It could be the only decent restaurant in town. It was really good and the wait staff was very friendly.

We were in bed by nine and I was up at 4 to get some writing done. Got to keep my streak going.