Scoil Cheoil an Earraigh

In February there is held in Ballyferriter, Ireland, near Dingle, the Scoil Cheoil an Earraigh, the Springtime School of Music. It’s a small annual festival of traditional Irish music that includes a week of classes and concerts hosted by some impressive names.

 

Inch Beach Motorhome Park

Every year a group of lads from the Monk’s pub in Thurles carpools the four hours or so just for the weekend. They’ve been doing this for years, and five years ago I became one of the lads. They rent the same two-three apartments behind John Benny’s pub right in the center of Dingle, overlooking the harbor. 

They drive the 20 minutes or so from Dingle to Ballyferriter on Friday night then again on Saturday afternoon for music sessions in the pubs. Then Saturday night they go to O’Flaherty’s in Dingle and join a session there. The tradition was interrupted by Covid, and last year Dixie and I spent February in America. But this
year we were finally able to resume the ritual. And this year, we went in the motorhome.

Siobhán, the tv weather lady, stood by her previous forecast that the weather in southwest Ireland was going to be “cat”. Her competence has been affirmed! We arrived Thursday evening to a cold, bitter mist blizzard. We drove straight to Ballyferriter rather than stopping in Dingle.

With every trip, I am becoming more fond of the moho. In fact, I’m developing a level of comfort with its idiosyncrasies and enigmatic behaviors. When the fridge starting chirping like a bird, Dixie, in his Irishness, said “no worries, ’twill be grand”. And he was right, apparently it was nothing. He had a motorhome long ago and just doesn’t get rattled by vehicle rattles. When the water tap stopped working, I was sure it was broken beyond repair. Turns out, our water tank had gone empty. Pretty easy fix.

We (okay, I)  have decided to name it. That’s what people do. They animate objects in their lives that evoke emotions so they can develop relationships with them and interact with them on an emotional level, positive and negative. Am I right? My classical guitar was called “The Baby”. I loved that guitar. When I sold the baby I felt shame and self-loathing. Who would sell their baby?

 Ballyferriter

  But I digress.

The model of our motorhome is Avantgarde. It’s written in big letters across the side. So I’m naming it the AvantBard. May it be a source of music and merriment and bring smiles to many faces for years to come. From now on I’ll just refer to it as the Bard. And I’m proclaiming it a boy Bard so it is a he. Now back to my story.

I had actually never paid much attention to the road between Dingle and Ballyferriter even though I had driven it more than once as a designated driver. It was always dark or I was lost in conversation. Now, driving in the afternoon with Dixie, I noticed that we were on Slea Head Drive.

When we bought the Bard, I read a lot of advice from the Facebook Motorhome Group. One thing I noted was the warning to NEVER take a motorhome on Slea Head Drive. I was puzzled because I couldn’t remember anything particularly treacherous about the drive and didn’t notice anything now. Maybe someone had just had a mishap there or something. I’ll circle back to this story later but you know something’s coming, right?

For now, I’ll say we arrived without incident and found that we could park overnight at the Ceann Sibéal Hotel. Like many other large hotels in Ireland, it has been closed to the public and is now open as temporary housing for Ukrainian refugees. Little Ireland (about the size of Indiana) has taken in around 75,000 Ukrainians this past year. There is understandable controversy about how and where to put them, but mostly agreement that turning them away is not an option. 

So the large car park was all but empty. There would have been a beautiful view as it overlooks Smerwick Harbor. But alas, the mist and fog were growing ever thicker and messier, like my porridge when it cools too long in the bowl.

We freshened up then moseyed over to the pubs to get a feel for the crowds and see what was going on. In the first one, some teens from the “schoil” were having their own little session. We had a coffee and listened to their accordions, whistles and singing. 

We had not been there ten minutes when an attractive woman about our age with long gray/blond hair sheepishly approached us. “Are you Dixie?” She remembered him from over 40 years ago when he used to play his music in Dublin. I was gobsmacked once more!  She was joined by her sister who also remembered him and his brother Paul as well. The Irish have astounding memories.

   

We soon walked back to the Bard and heated some soup and made sandwiches. Then it was back to the pubs with fiddle and guitar in hand to try to catch some action. 

The first two pubs we tried were very noisy and crowded. But in the third, Tigh an tSaorsaigh, there was a handful of musicians playing a few tunes and taking turns singing. They welcomed us to join them. Another friend of ours from out of town came in later with his accordion and completed our band. We stayed there sharing songs til after midnight then slept well.

There are three lovely pubs on the main street of Ballyferriter. Their names are all beautifully written in cló Gaelach (old Irish script). All signs are in Irish (but mostly Roman script) here because this is a Gaeltacht (Irish speaking) area. It isn’t unusual to hear Irish spoken on the street or in the shops. 

The next morning we wanted to drive back to Dingle to buy some groceries and have a nice restaurant lunch. Instead of retracing our path, we decided to continue straight because on the map the road forms a loop that we thought might be scenic and land us back in Dingle. It was still overcast and hazy but not too bad.

As we rode along, I could tell we were climbing but couldn’t really see anything. The fog seemed to thicken with the elevation and squeeze the road narrower and narrower. It soon became one winding, curving single lane going both ways. 

Before we knew it, giant jutting boulders were taking swipes at our left while the invisible sea raged below the cliffs on our right. We met a few cars blowing toward us but miraculously managed to dodge each one. I thought we should have slowed to a snail’s pace, but Dixie didn’t seem to have a care in the world. 

We were on Slea Head Drive for sure and it was really fun in a scary kind of way. We were glad the Bard was just a small lad compared to some. He maneuvered well and brought us safely back down to town. We’ll have to take him back on a clear day because I have a feeling the views would be stunning.

We met the lads back in Ballyferriter late that afternoon and found a perfect niche again in Tigh an tSarsaigh. We played and sang for hours with other musicians and singers joining in. Heaven!

Saturday morning was still cold and rainy. We slept late then took our time getting ready for the day. Since there was no electric hookup I had to use the heat vent by the floor to train my bangs down. A girl does what a girl has to do, right?

Tigh Bhric 

The three main pubs were awfully crowded by the time we made our way into them. So we all decided to drive back toward Dingle and stop by Tigh Bhric and West Kerry Brewery on the way. I’m glad we did. It was practically empty so we had it all to ourselves. It’s a gorgeous old stone pub and I loved the craft beer!

OFlaherty's

That night in Dingle, we went to O’Flahertys and joined in another amazing session. There’s a lad there who plays Irish trad music on a cello. I remembered him from last time. Fergus, the owner, remembered the song I sang last time I was there. I sang it again.

Dingle Harbor

 

We spent Saturday night in the car park on the harbor… the one that says no overnight parking! The lads left the next morning but we weren’t quite ready to roll home. We made our way about 30 minutes down the road to Inch Beach where we knew there was a moho park with electric hookups. Like Cobh Aire in Cork, we were the only ones there. It felt great to rev up the heat and use a hair dryer... and the microwave. 

Inch Beach

We walked on the beach where I stuffed two fist-size rocks in my pocket. It seems every beach has a different geological history and has a distinctive menagerie of stones. It was really windy so I found a sheltered spot in the dunes where I stretched out, relaxed and watched the various fiddle, accordion and banjo formations in the clouds. Dixie opted for a brisk walk.

We ate our fill at a quirky Italian restaurant at a nearby hotel. The next day we drove home and into the glorious sunshine that Siobhán had kindly forecast for the east. 

To The South

After spending the holidays in the states, we were anxious to go camping again but the weather was “cat” (that’s the Irish word for awful). We used the
downtime to research and buy good sleeping bags and folding chairs. Our moho doesn’t have a fixed bed and making one up every night was going to be a chore. So we both agreed to sleep on the two couches which were the perfect size for us. So many advantages to being short! 

Siobhan, the tv weather lady, finally offered a break in the clouds for a couple of days in a few spots (which is all we could hope for) and off we ventured again.

We were very relaxed in our preparations this time, considering ourselves experienced campers now (after our one night out in November). We took our time getting ready to leave and it was 2:30 before we left home. 

I’m a member of the Irish Motorhome Group on Facebook and found that the town of Cobh (cove) in Cork has a popular Aire. An Aire (from the  French Aire de Service) is basically a parking lot where motorhomes or caravans are welcome to stay the night. The limit in Cobh is 48 hours and there is no electric hookup. It’s by the water and a short walk to the amenities of the historic little town, which I had never visited. 

Cobh sounded okay but what we both really wanted was a private, isolated little nook off the beaten path, preferably overlooking a beach. There should be lots of these, right? Ireland is an island after all. I asked the Motorhome Group for suggestions near coastal Ballycotton which isn’t too far away. I got no response.

 

After five years I’m still in the mindset of finding the “hidden Ireland”. When we bought the moho I was imagining our own wild and secret getaway spots, including undiscovered beaches for exploring, shelling and rock collecting. I saw myself falling asleep beneath the skylight staring at the moon and stars, with the pounding of waves absorbing us into the energy of the universe and melding us together, heart and soul, with our ancient Celtic ancestors. I know what you’re thinking.

I’m not sure Dixie saw it this way but he did fancy the idea of peace and quiet. We left home full of anticipation and optimism, not sure where we’d end up. Not ten miles down the road the tire pressure gauge light comes on. Really? We pulled over and Dixie checked all the tires which looked fine. We stopped again at the next service station and he topped off all the tires. Gauge was still lit! 

At this point we were NOT happy campers full of anticipation and optimism. It would be getting dark soon and we didn’t really know where we were going. I felt my blood pressure rising. We decided to ignore the tire pressure gauge. My blood pressure rose some more. 

We put Ballycotton into Google maps and hoped for the best. It was well after dark when we saw signs for car parks (parking lots) along the coast. At last, we could unwind, have a little dinner, have a little wine, take a peaceful walk and let the camping magic begin. It was not to be so.

Cobh Aire

The first car park we passed looked perfect, with tiny glistening whitecaps heralding the sea beyond… and only a few cars in sight. But there was a height barrier to keep out the riffraff (like us). We were crushed and a little worried, but on we drove. We passed a couple more car parks but with the same barriers. So we made the decision to forget the feckin’ idyllic seaside paradise and just soldier on to Cobh. 

We were there in half an hour. I’d seen photos of the Cobh Aire on Facebook and it looked the same… a regular car park with a long line of extra wide spaces along a railing by the sea. I think there were 30 spaces. Surprisingly (and suspiciously), we were the only ones there!

Farther down, there were parking spaces for cars and that area was almost full. Since it was dark we couldn’t tell which way led to town. We started walking toward the cars and met a couple who said we were on the right track... just a couple hundred more yards. Five minutes and we were there.

St Colmans Cathedral, Cobh

Cobh is now on my list of favorite places in Ireland. It’s a stunning midsize town set on a hill with gorgeous views and multicolored terraced homes. It’s very clean and charming (I wish I had taken more photos) and has a massive 19th century cathedral that could rival St Patricks in Dublin. The detail, inside and outside, is astounding. The carillon is the largest in Ireland or Britain with a total of 49 bells. They say the largest weighs 3.6 tons. Guess there's not much demand for a handbell choir.

Street in Cobh

We had a late dinner of traditional meat and potatoes at a lovely hotel restaurant then an early bedtime. We both slept great!

The next morning I opened my eyes and raised the window shade to the tiny spark of a sunrise just beginning to blaze on the horizon. Dixie went for an early walk and brought me a dreamy, creamy latte from a local coffee shop. He took a thermos and the barista filled it to the brim. We made a light breakfast on the gas range, went exploring Cobh, then set out for one more night’s adventure. 

Ballybrannigan Strand

I checked Facebook to find that someone had responded to my request for a camping site near Ballycotton. Should we chance it? Of course!

The beach (called a “strand” here) was called Ballybrannigan and Google maps had us there in no time. We had to turn down some narrow boreens (little
one-way laneways) until we reached the end of the line… a small paved car park atop a grassy bluff overlooking a wide lonely beach and lapping blue ocean. No phone or wifi reception. OMG Just what I had imagined!

And as if that wasn’t enough, there was a stream that ran past the car lot complete with a little waterfall spilling into the sea.

Ballybrannigan Strand

We walked in the sand, watched the sunset and speculated where it would rise in the morning. We had dinner (leftovers from the night before) then watched the International Space Station fly past the moon. We strolled along the beach again then settled into listening to downloaded music from Dixie’s phone. 

As I lay down to sleep, I couldn’t take my eyes off Castor and Pollux smiling at us through the skylight, lulled by the pounding of waves absorbing us into the energy of the universe and melding us together, heart and soul, with our ancient Celtic ancestors. I’m going to like camping in Ireland!

Next weekend we're going to the Scoil Cheoil an Earraigh (Don't make me say it!) with "the lads" from the Monks pub as we do every February when there's no pandemic. It translates as the Springtime School of Music and is held in beautiful Ballyferriter on the Dingle peninsula in the southwest. Siobhán warns us that the weather will be cat, but we're going, cat or shine! 

 

Maiden Voyage

So we bought a tiny house that has wheels. I don’t want to leave any standing stone in Ireland unturned nor any landscape unsavored. 

I've never been much of a traveler, but there is so much of Ireland I want to see. I forged a brief love affair with adventure when I first came here but, now that I've settled into small town life, that flame has softened into a warm glow. I'm feeling the need to throw on a few logs and see some sparks fly. So, with this little rolling house, we anticipate many years of blissful headaches as we pack the guitar, fiddle and a few incidentals into its tiny closet and take off. 

We bought our motorhome (RV) in November (or was it October?) and at that time I was just planning to keep a private diary of our travels. But I changed my mind and decided to create this new blog so I could share with you. Only one small excursion so far, so easy to catch you up. 

Besides documenting where we go and what we see and do, I hope I can convey a little of the quirky and indomitable spirit of Ireland that continues to inspire me and draw me in… the character and the characters, there’s no end to it. I am still as enchanted as ever.

To me, Ireland is beautiful everywhere. Yes, it’s always green, just like they say. The highways are adorned with noble castle and monastic ruins minding herds of sheep and cows who are oblivious to their remarkable surroundings. (I've met a few Irish folks who are the very same). There are the stone bridges, stone towers, stone walls and just lots of spectacular stones everywhere. 

The nerd in me has actually started a rock collection. I'm just trying to remember which came from where because some day my children will be thrilled with this priceless inheritance (not). 

The small towns/villages are all unique with colorful shops and pubs, historic structures of all kinds and ridiculous traffic and parking arrangements. The cuisine is generally bland but I hope to run across some more interesting morsels along the way and I'll let you know what to avoid. 

And then there's the people... yes, the people... hmmm, the people. People are people everywhere, right? All kinds! I do notice there's a gentle nature to the culture here... a way of living in the moment with contentment and gratitude. Maybe that's why the arts flourish here. I can't wait to join in some new music sessions and meet some new friends.

The weather had been totally uncooperative in November, but we decided to take the maiden voyage anyway, with all the anticipation of two excited but dubious Titanic passengers. We crossed our fingers for safe and happy travels!

We decided to go to Wexford Town, about two hours away, because that’s the only area Siobhán, the TV weather woman, said held a prayer for clear skies. We stopped on the way in New Ross because that’s where we got hungry. The good thing about moho-ing is you don’t have to plan so much. We pulled up in the first parking lot we saw on the harbor and made sandwiches. I noticed we were right in front of the Dunbrody Famine Ship… maybe a bad omen?

I had heard of this ship and really didn’t know where it was. We ate our fill staring at it out the window because it was so windy and cold outside. The irony of that experience was not lost on me. 

The Dunbrody Famine Ship is an authentic reproduction of an early 19th century vessel that sailed back and forth from New Ross to Savannah Georgia (of all places, since I’m from Georgia), carrying thousands of emigrating (starving) Irish to a new life. There are monuments and tributes to the millions of famine victims all over Ireland. The period is beyond tragic and sorrowful because there is so much more to the story than just diseased potatoes… the history they don’t teach you in school.

From New Ross we traveled on to Wexford Town and checked into the Ferrybank Motorhome Park, my first motorhome park ever. It was a nice spot on the water although there was a big fence surrounding it that interfered with the view. The moon was full and Siobhán's prediction proved correct as we walked over the bridge and into the town for supper.

We settled on Rob’s Ranch House which has a “Cowboy and Indian” theme. The burgers were great. I wish I had taken photos, but at the time I wasn’t planning to blog so didn’t see the point. It was a real bucking bronco ride back into the 60’s when TV filled us with images of Stetsons, bandanas and dangling scalps. At Rob’s, you can watch the old Westerns while you eat. Not sure it would pass the politically correct test in the US,
but I’d like to go back.

We slept pretty well although I did wake once in the night wondering if I had accidentally slipped into a giant washing machine. I was sure the wind and rain were going to jiggle through and give us a good dousing, but we stayed dry and warm. We woke up early (for us) to gray skies and drizzle. We had a simple breakfast (porridge and toast) and got ready to pull out.

So here we were miles from home, basking in our new experience and anonymity. Only a few people in sight on this cold, dreary, stay-at-home kinda day. Dixie stepped outside a moment and saw a fellow camper walking her dog. 

“Hello,” she calls. “Weren’t you in Jesus Christ Superstar about 20 years ago?” I don’t believe it! He had no idea his King Herod had made such an impression. As I’ve said so many times, everybody in Ireland knows everybody else. If we’d lingered longer, the two of them would have surely figured out how they’re blood related. 

But since the weather was deteriorating by the minute, we decided to leave quickly and turn towards home. But we took the scenic route just because it seemed a shame to go straight home.

We went back through Waterford which I’m sure we’ll go through many more times because it’s scenic, there’s lots to do there, and it has the closest beach to Thurles. This time we didn't stop. We went through the village of Dunmore East and found a fabulous spot to stop for lunch and watch the weather continue to blur our views. Then we rambled home in the pouring rain.