A camping trip brought me to Eire along with three of my friends. An interesting mix of half-half people: we had 1,5 Germans, 1,5 French, 0,5 Swiss and 0.5 English, all conversing in German... go figure.
The island had a lot of scenery to offer. Whether in Wicklow National park, in Cashel or in Kerry, we were always amazed. Our easy accomodation also enabled us to the most expensive views. But when it started to rain in the tent, it was time for a hostel.
After this powernap, we were all ready to visit Wicklow and its green hills. As we discovered, there is hardly anything else than green hills in Wicklow, but we were glad to be finally away from civilisation. After stopping at a old monastery somewhere near Tinahely, we drove to our stop for the night, lost on a little road near Carnew. We asked an adorable old lady whether her field could be our home for the night. After checking with her son, she agreed. As the sun set we ate our delicious soda-bread sandwiches with some Australian wine.
The next morning as we went to thank our host, we couldn't get away. We made her repeat many a sentence, as her Irish was quite a challenge for our untrained ears. She showed us how they made butter in the former times, told us about her family and talked about the only flight she had ever taken: to Lourdes in France on a pilgrimage.
After a long goodbye, we were off to Bunclody for a breakfast, met a charming young man at the petrol station who helped to find our way to Kilkenny. Again a lovely but tourist-y town awaited us. Colleen and I weren't impressed with the castle - we've seen too many castles in France.
Off we were on the road again, to Cashel, where magnificent castle ruins awaited us. The panorama was breath-taking and the history of the castle really interesting. Even the Frenchies were impressed! Next stop, for some food shopping, was Cork. We didn't stay in town too much... If there ain't scenery, we ain't staying.
We were on the lookout for a new spot to put our humble abode. As it was already getting quite dark, our diplomatic mission went to talk to a houseowner, who offered us a space on a field overlooking the sea. The wake-up with such a view was quite an amazement. Although Selina had gone lost, we didn't quite worry until her courteous saviour brought her back by car. Off we were, in the plan of reaching Skelligs Island by the end of the day. We drove along beautiful roads, stopping at a sports centre, where the caretaker generously let us take a shower. After Glengariff, Kenmare and Sneem, we arrived at Ballinskelligs to realise at 5pm that Skellig was open only between 11am and 4pm. The last boat to the island was leaving at 12pm.
The next target we had was Killarney. We had been warned that there had been a huge Gaelic football match that day but we didn't imagine such traffic jams, in every direction! We turned around, and off we were to the Lake. We drove on and on and suddenly arrived in the Gap of Dunloe. As it was starting to rain and getting late, it was getting darker and darker. The eerie atmosphere didn't really inspire me. Constantly stopped by sheep, their businesses and rocky surfaces we continued towards the Black Valley, where we asked at the last house for a tent space. The lady saw our despair and showed us a little space nearby the small stream. On the moss we had a lovely bed... until at 3am we realised, we were lying in water - mostly me. After my whimpering and the first drops that fell from the ceiling, we decided to leave. In the rain, under the attack of midges, we quickly put everything into the car and drove to Killarney before 6am. At a petrol station we organised our bagpacks and waited to give the car back. Then we went to find a hostel and figured out what local attractions there were. After a good shower and some food, we were off to Ross Castle. The 3km walk was quite relaxing and the castle was quite beautiful. The lakeside was really nice. Back in Killarney, a visit to the pub was unavoidable. First we apparently crashed a birthday party in a pub full of Irishmen. A random drunk woman came up to us until her sister and her 'on-and-off-boyfriend'(in her words) saved us. Next pub, a beautiful live music enchanted us, as they were singing about love, cliffs and girls. (the cliché about Irish music turned out to be true).
Next adventure on the list: a walk to the black valley. Supposed 4 hours of walking turned with our stupidity or our yearning for the waterside (John's theory), into seven and a half. We took wrong turns, didn't see the signs etc... But we made it in the end. We also had the help of American Alice, who drove us a bit nearer our target. The last 3-4 miles were the most beautiful ones and we were glad to arrive in the lost hostel. We were all alone and played cards, drank wine and read the future...
After a good night, we went back to Lord Brandon's Cottage and took the boat to Ross castle. A beautiful but cold journey with a guide/ navigator with a hilarious laugh... slightly terrifying. The journey continued by foot to Killarney then by (very modern) train to Dublin (thank you EU).
Dublin, 11.30pm, Pub: A Guiness for each of us. After a nice encounter with an Irish drunkard, we were off to our hostel. We quickly left our things and were off towards Temple Bar. We landed in the Mezz, where we met some Irish guys, with whom we spent the rest of the night, drinking, singing and dancing (:?). A great insight into some real Dubliner's life.
Last day: Dublin. With a lack of sleep and grey weather, the city didn't really enchant us. It was nice. Nicer than Birmingham anyway. After Trinity College, the walks around old little street, the castle, we looked for the supposed (and later confirmed) Calatravas bridge.
At 8pm, we sat in our plane we nearly missed (my fault, I have to admit). Grey Birmingham awaited us. The real life could start again. The fellowship was dissolved.
And I have miles to go before I sleep...
And I have miles to go before I sleep...
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