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| The Merriman Hotel |
Fortunately, we were set to go in the Bard. We left late Friday morning so we could arrive early afternoon and have a good chance of finding a nice spot to park up for the weekend. There are no local rv parks so we were prepared for four nights of “wild camping”, i.e. being totally self sufficient.
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| Pubs in Kinvara |
When we arrived, there were only a couple other rv’s in town. One was parked along the harbor road and another was alongside the small marina. The other spots along the marina were filled with cars, but we had our pick of places along the road. We chose a spot at an intersection with another road because it gave passing traffic a wider berth to get by. It was the perfect spot! It was going to be a little nerve wracking hearing the buzz of traffic whizzing past, especially in the night, but the setting was gorgeous.
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| Our first perfect spot |
We walked down to the marina and of course I saw a sign that, in a roundabout way, said no overnight parking at the marina or harbor road or else. I was sure I remembered rv’s being parked there last year, but it still gave me a twinge of discomfort, like when you rest under a tree where birds are roosting….and just when I was feeling so settled.
By chance, we passed on the street someone Dixie recognized right away. She was the daughter of one of the pub owners. Dixie mentioned to Collette that I was a little nervous about where we had parked. She said she owned a field just on the edge of the village, a few hundred yards away and we were welcome to park there.
We decided that would be a good idea. She gave us directions and we unparked and drove off. We followed her directions, left right left right whatever and, when we reached the place, we saw there was a field on each side of the road. Did she say left or right? I was sure she said right. Dixie wasn’t so sure. Fortunately there was a lock on the gate to the left, so she must have said right, right? We opened the gate and Dixie backed in just far enough to clear the gate because the grass was high and we weren’t sure how firm the ground was underneath.
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| Our second perfect spot |
It was the perfect spot! Again, I jumped out and immediately started taking pictures. The view was spectacular. The field was strewn solid with white dandelion puffs that gave the impression we had just missed a dandy of a hail storm. The back of the field sloped downward but the void was filled with a border of trees and a blue mountain surging upward like a frozen tsunami wave.
Now we had found our quiet haven and home for the next four days. I was exhaling and feeling very satisfied.
Then we noticed a car stopped in the road just in front of us. A gentleman stepped out and asked if we had been given permission to park there. We explained about Collette and he explained that Collette’s field was across the road and that the lock on her gate didn’t actually work.
He said we would need to move before evening because he was moving some cows into his field (or hay or something). We apologized, the men stood chatting for a while then we went to move. But, as you may have suspected if you are the worrying type, the wheels only spun and we were stuck fast.
The farmer was very kind and offered to get some plywood to help us get unstuck. He returned a few minutes later and we tried but the wheels were in too deep to mount the plywood. He said he’d come back in the morning with his tractor and pull us out.
In the mean time I trudged the circumference of the pasture and enjoyed the tranquility of being just outside of town. I wasn’t sure if I was feeling lucky or unlucky. It was very unlucky to be stuck in a field but if the farmer hadn’t happened by and been so polite and understanding, it could have ruined our weekend.
When I opened my eyes the next morning Dixie was staring at me. “I have an idea,” said he. I don’t like it when people who are in trouble say that. Things can go from bad to worse. I voted to just wait for the farmer to pull us out.
But Dixie’s idea was practical and successful. He jacked up the front wheels, one at a time, and placed the plywood underneath. Then we rolled right out the gate and into the street. We discussed moving over to Collette’s field but it was a very short discussion. No!
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| Our third perfect spot |
By now the harbor road and the marina parking was filling up. We saw the perfect spot at the marina and took it. And it turned out to be the really perfect spot. I loved watching the people walk past as the wind drove ripples of shadow across the water. I sat on the doorstep and sipped my lattes, mesmerized by the castle in the distance. Did I mention that it was perfect?
By late afternoon the sessions were well underway in the pubs and we spent the next two days going in and out, sometimes participating and sometimes just having pints and listening.
Dixie is a phenomenal guitar player and he made eyes light up when he joined a session. Trad guitar is a specialized art and he has mastered it. I, on the other hand, am still a beginning trad fiddler. I think I started too late.
There are thousands of tunes out there and I only know a small fraction and then I’m not a strong player. So in a large session, I sit on the periphery of the circle and noodle around until I recognize a tune I can play.
In the main Saturday session, where I counted 14 fiddlers, I took a purse full of chocolate and consoled myself as I sat waiting for an easy jig. It’s all good craic as they say, and I left feeling inspired (and a little queasy).
By late Monday afternoon things were slowing down and we decided to head for a final session about five miles out of town at a pub/restaurant on New Quay. We parked out back for the night. Before the session, we walked around the rocky beach where I found a big eggplant-size stone speckled with fossils that my geologist friend, Linda, says are called Rugosa from coral. Always have to bring home a rock.
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| My Rogosa Fossil Rock |
When we left Tuesday morning the weather was beautiful and we didn’t want to go straight home. We moved in the direction of home but through unexplored territory off the main roads. The map showed a round tower along the way so we wanted to check that out.
Turns out it was an amazing monastic site called Kilmacduach. We learned it was founded by St Colman Mac Duach early in the 7th century. They say it has one of the finest collections of monastic buildings in Ireland. Besides the round tower, there were several other building ruins including a cathedral and three smaller churches. Unfortunately, there were pad locks on the gates keeping us from walking inside each building.
I spied a man cutting grass and another one spraying and I fell into a conversation with the sprayer. I expressed frustration that the gates were all locked. He said I could get the key from the caretaker who lived across the street. What???
I was on it. I rang the doorbell and a tiny little woman covered head to toe with white flour answered. She seemed a little irritated and said, “I’m doing me baking.” She handed me the keys and told me which unlocked what and said to just leave them on her doorstep when I left.
I was elated. As I was practically skipping with joy toward the smaller church I heard a voice behind me yell, ”Wait up”. A young couple had just pulled in and Dixie, who was still at the Bard, had told them I had the keys.
I waited and asked where they were from. Florida! Their Irish vacation had begun the day before. We browsed around the church together and by the time we were ready to leave for the next building, others had arrived. I was in a slight predicament, not wanting to lock anybody out but not wanting to lock them in either. I waited for them but then a tour bus arrived and by the time I had opened all the locks on
all the buildings, the site was crawling with tourists from all over.
I found myself scurrying about, locking and unlocking gates and feeling a little like Bilbo Baggins hosting "an unexpected party". I didn’t think turning the keys over to anyone else was a solution. It would just be passing the predicament to someone else. So I made sure everything was unlocked and everyone was having fun and I returned the keys to the baker with a note of explanation. Then we left the party.
We were home long before dark, we unpacked and started planning our next road adventure. Thanks again for coming along. You’re always welcome.
