What a Conclusion!

We awoke to a chamber-of-commerece-day--blue sky, warm sun and a gentle breeze. The previous night we decided to devote our final day to Dingle. Perfect decision. 

How to describe the indescribable? God's creation blossomed before us as dramatic cliffs met the surging, blue-green Atlantic Ocean with hundreds of stonewalled pastures thrown in for good measure. Just as we exhausted our adjective account in Paris, the sights on the Dingle Peninsula captured the soul. No picture can do justice to the breathtaking beauty of this part of the world. I can't imagine there is anything comparable. 

One of the enjoyable parts of the Ireland adventure is actually seeing the sights we've been hearing about for more than 30 years of listening to Irish music. Today we went through the village of Castlemaine that proudly displayed a sign declaring it was the home of "The Wild Colonial Boy."

With a final shopping stroll in Killarney (the tin whistle family increased by one) and a return to Danny Mann's (the band didn't know "Rambles of Spring"), this phenomenal journey ends. We have made a significant addition to our lifetime memory bank.

Back to reality now, enriched by all we've experienced during the past three weeks. 

Roads Less Traveled

How to describe this day? Let's just start by noting we experienced sights seen by few tourists and all because Ronnie took a part of his day to lead a tour. During the pizza gorging last night, Ronnie happened to mention that Dundalk was the home of St. Brigid. Julie and I immediately were overwhelmed by this information and explained how St. Brigid rose to the top of our "Lent Madness" bracket only to fall by an handful of votes to Francis of Assisi in the final ballot. We just had to see St. Brigid's shrine. 

So after Ronnie finished cooking breakfast for all his guests, he escorted us through town and out into the country. There St. Brigid welcomed us to a tranquil setting among the pastures of rural County Lough. Brigid was born in the area around 450 and served God and the less fortunate for decades. Many walk and pray the ten stations highlighting her life and ministry. This was quite a moving experience. 

And we were only getting started. Ronnie led us down the narrowest path yet, barely wide enough for a car let alone a van. Tom exclaims in alarm, "Erin, we're scraping rocks on this side." And Erin repiles with equal alarm, "And I'm scraping rocks over here." We thought Ronnie may have been playing a joke, leading us down this cow trail. Imagine our delighted discovery that this was also Ronnie's first time on that path. 

Our next treat came at Mystery Hill. Ronnie stopped his car ahead of us at the bottom of a small hill. He instructed Erin to put the van in neutral and take his foot off the brake. We immediately began to roll backwards, seemingly UP the hill. Tom claims it was really downhill, but it sure looked uphill to the rest of us. 

Over the next hour, we zigzagged in and out of Northern Ireland with views of sparse mountains and the ever present green pastures and grazing animals. Each of us left a "good luck" rock on the grave of the mythical 7' tall woman (The Long Woman's Grave) who married the 7'3" tall Irishman. She died of disappointment upon seeing for the first time the land of her new husband. 

A final stop at Ronnie's inn for bathroom breaks (and to retrieve Erin's dropped passport) sent us down the road to Killarney. 

At a fuel/bathroom stop, I was surprised to hear Clancy Brothers' music playing in the convenience store. I was further impressed by the sound system in the bathroom because, looking around, I couldn't find any speakers. Approaching the clerk to pay for my Magnum ice cream bars (YUM!), I asked her if they always played Clancy Brothers music in the store. A who-is-this-crazy-American look overwhelmed her face. "Excuse me, sir?"

"I'm hearing Clancy Brothers music and was wondering if it's normal to play that in your store". (Are three weeks of drinking wine and Guiness catching up with me?)

"Sir, I think that music is coming from your pocket."

Totally embarrassed I pulled out my iPhone and, sure enough, the Clancy Brothers were gloriously singing away. Muttering a red-faced apology, I slithered out of the store comforted somewhat by the fact that I left the poor young lady with a wonderful story to share--"You'll never believe what some American bloke did in the store today."

The topography definitely changed as we drove southwest. Gentle rolling hills and some flat land gave way to more severe slopes and finally mountains as we entered Killarney. 

Love this town. Killarney obviously caters to tourists but in a quaint way. Pubs with traditional music dominate the streets. Upon recommendation of hotel staff, we settled in at Danny Mann's and swayed, clapped, toe-tapped and sang the night away. 

How old can you go?

Ireland traces its history to 8,000 BC. We touched part of that ancient history when we squeezed (literally) our way into the oldest covered structure in the world, the burial passage at Newgrange. Constucted around 3,000 BC, Newgrange is several centuries older than the pyramids or Stonehenge. Intricate carvings decorate many of the stones which somehow were transported several miles, probably up the River Boyne, and then dragged up a high hill to the building site. But the most impressive thing is how these Neolithic builders constructed the entrance so the winter solstice sun would shine through the 30 foot passage and light the burial crypt. Despite the 19th century graffiti, the chamber staggers the senses. Intricately stacked stones culminate in an immense capstone creating a shelter that, in all the Irish rain, has not leaked.

 We struggled to stand against the ferocious wind but relished the picturesque Irish countryside from the top of the hill. White sheep dotted the stone walled and hedged emerald green pastures painting a scene exactly as one imagines to find in Ireland. The fast flowing, majestic River Boyne completed the scene. 

Countinuing our pursuit of Ireland's backrounds we proceeded to the town of Trim, home of the Trim Castle. Townspeople are very proud of the fact that Trim Castle and other historical sites in the area were used as locations for filming of the 1994 movie "Braveheart". After a pint and lunch we headed to the castle gates for a tour only to find them locked. Rattling the gates brought no response so we settled for a walk about. 

And what better way to end our day than with a pizza feed provided by our wonderful host Ronnie Carroll. Ronnie regaled us, as only an Irishman can, with countless stories of his life. He obviously is a successful entrepreneur who, among other things, owns the Apache Pizza franchise in Dundalk. We were treated not only with Ronnie's stories but with a visit from his dad Tom. 

And the beer and whiskey flew

Having survived seven hours in the Rosslare ferry station, we raced between rain storms to the train stop and immediately boarded the Dublin train--a milk run it turned out. But who cares how long the trip is when there is a party to be had. With approval of the rail authorities (bless their souls), we held our nightly reception, this time with Irish music accompanying the slosh of wine. Two New Hampshirites who had been traveling in Europe for the last 30 days joined the party. The train ride up the coast line gave us a taste of the glorious Irish countryside. 

Upon checking into the hotel, we hit the streets seeking a classic Irish pub. The first place (recommended by our cab driver) drove us out with loud rock music. Pub Two had the real Irish music, but not a seat to be found on three levels. So in our first night in Dublin we settled for a traditional, authentic...........Italian dinner. Very good though. 

To get a sense of the sights, we rode a complete loop on a tour bus, about two hours. All that did was show us how much we wouldn't be able to see because of our limited time. With the clock ticking we beelined to Guiness Brewery to make sure we could check that off our list. What a time! Erin had already secured a table by the time we reached the tap room at the top of the building. Turns out our table mates were four guys from England who fancied themselves as the four wayward friends in the "The Hangover" movie. They had even "done" Las Vegas last year--their first trip to the US. Talk about a fun time listening to their stories. We certainly did our bit for US/British relations. 

We followed a successful stroll through the Guiness store with a ride to the Jameson Irish whiskey distillery. And not just any ride, but one involving a horse and carriage. How cool it was to hear the clip-clop of hooves on the cobblestone streets as Dublin leisurely passed before our eyes. One of the Dublin treasures we saw from the buggy was the oldest pub in Dublin. And as luck would have it, we had a ninety minute wait for our Jameson tour, so we set our sights on the Brazen Head pub, an establishment that traces its roots back to the 1400's. With an ambience that reeked Irish pub, the Brazen Head very nicely served the time-filling role. Oh yeah, we enjoyed the Jameson tour and tasting. 

But our pub experiences were not over. Erin told us about a place near Jameson's where we headed after dinner. The sounds of real Irish music and a throng of beer drinking enthusiasts greeted us as pushed through the Cobblestone Pub's front door. Locating a table in the back, we secured one beer for our table of four people. Then ensued a delightful conversation with the couple next to us who traveled what they called "The Music Trail" in the US--Nashville, Memphis, Natchez, New Orleans and Lafayette.  Our new friends did point out that it is not customary in Ireland to order a beer with four straws. 

With a few hours left in our Dublin experience, Erin, Julie and I attended the early service at St. Patrick's Cathederal. The building dates back to the 12th century but a church has existed on the site since the eighth century. They even have found evidence of activities on the grounds from hundreds of years earlier. Handmade needlepoint kneelers grace every seat. 

Our sprint to the finish included a visit to Molly Malone, a tour of the Book of Kells at Trinity College (incredible), a stop at Walton's Music Store (another tin whistle joins the family) and lunch at Leo Burdocks Fish and Chips. While the Book of Kells was phenomenal, the old Trinity College library was a treat unto itself with floor to ceiling (and we're talking 20 foot high ceilings) stacks of extremely old volumes housed in a barrel vaulted room. 

Can't help but mention another aspect of Dublin that became apparent during our carriage ride--the colorful doors that welcome guests on seemingly every house. And not just in Dublin. Homes in small villages also boast beautiful doors, many brightly colored, some intricately decorated. We even saw a calendar that featured photos of Dublin doors. 

Loading the newly rented van, we hit the road north about 45 miles to Dundalk. The short trip was not without adventure as six backseat drivers helped Erin navigate his way along the backroads. An hour and a half into the drive that included going through the same town twice, playing chicken with other cars on a narrow country path, brushing the passenger side mirror on the hedgerow next to the road and backing out of the wrong toll booth lane, Erin responed to the toll booth lady's, "Have a nice trip" with a guttural, "Hrumph!" But here we are safely ensconced in a 1901 Edwardian house owned by a person Erin met on his 2012 pilgrimage to Ireland. Life couldn't be better. 

On the way to Dublin

Traveling patience points are piling up as we hone our waiting skills. After a quick tour of the Bayeaux tapestry and a peak in the cathedral, we dutifully marched to the train station for the short ride to Cherbourg. Turns out the ferry to Ireland didn't leave until 8:30, giving us about six hours to experience the Cherbourg ferry terminal. Fortunately the terminal had a bar/restaurant and two bottles of wine there made the downtime bearable. 

Boarding the ferry and seeing our accommodations dissolved the hardship of waiting. The rooms were spectacular. Each of us had a two room suite stocked with complimentary beverages and snacks. Following a wonderful dinner, we spent a peaceful night rocking on the waves to Rosslare, Ireland, (about 75 miles south of Dublin) arriving an hour ahead of schedule in a driving rain. Welcome to Ireland. Now we endure a four hour wait for the train to Dublin without a bar or restaurant to sustain us. 

D-Day Memorials

A somber and sobering day. There are no words to express the courage, sacrifice and valor that young men, many still teenagers, exhibited on the beaches of Normandy almost 71 years ago. The entire Operation Overlord boggles the mind--the planning, execution, luck, improvisation, skill. It's one thing to watch a war movie or read a book about the landing, but to actually be on the beaches, to look down from the German bunkers and to hear from the people who were there brings a sense of incredulity to the entire effort. 

Our day began in the sleepy seaside village of Arromanches, site of one of the greatest enginneering feats of all time. Within three weeks of June 6, 1944, an entire port was assembled off shore in the English Channel, allowing critical supplies to quickly reach the front lines. Without this impossible effort, the entire race to Berlin would have bogged down and who knows what the human cost would have been. 

The American Cemetary at Omaha Beach was our next stop. Sadly, I didn't have enough time to see everything, specifically the beach. Standing to view the 9,387 grave markers with the English Channel in the background chills the soul. The French people were awestruck that these young men would offer the ultimate sacrifice so far away from home for people they didn't even know. It was heartwarming to see so many French school children there to maintain the bond with America built on the blood of so many. 

Pointe du Hoc was our final destination. A stategic point with sweeping views of the English Channel, this was a key objective of the Army Rangers on D-Day. To see the cliffs the Rangers had to scale with Germans shooting down at them, puts the exploits of the Rangers in the "beyond belief" category. 225 men started the assault. Two and a half days later, only 90 were still able to fight. A strong wind whipped as we walked the path and viewed the bomb craters left from the allied effort to soften this target. We stood in the German observation bunkers and saw their gun implacements. Heroic effort doesn't begin to describe what happened here.