Catching Up

I think my muse has had Covid or something. She won’t move. I’ve tried coaxing her into some kind of action but she just makes moaning sounds and goes back to sleep. Imagine, calling yourself a muse and then just lying there like a dead horse. I’m exasperated. 

So I’ve decided to go it alone. I’m going to get this blog post out before my trip back home next week. We have taken the Bard out three times since I last posted and I do want to share it all with you, especially those friends who have inquired.

But I don’t feel inspired to write. I’d rather practice singing Jolene which I just learned, work on the four parts of Trim the Velvet on my fiddle, try out the recipe for Graham crackers somebody posted on the Americans Living in Ireland FB page, watch another episode of Dark on Netflix, read another chapter of Life After Doom by Brian McLaren (it’s a downer), prune the overgrown geraniums in the front garden, FaceTime with a grandkid (or you), do a respectable workout on the rowing machine (it’s too rainy for a walk), pay my bills (ok, that’s a lie), or almost anything else.

 

But since I’ve started writing I feel the muse stirring a little, so maybe I’ll be okay. I’ll get her some coffee or something.

It’s been an eventful couple of months… as things go in my life. Eventful means I’ve gotten out of bed every day, gotten dressed and done something or gone somewhere. I used to harass my mother when she’d say she’d had a busy day and I’d ask what she did and she could only name checking the mail and laundry. Now that I’m in her shoes, I get it. Especially when the weather is windy and drizzly.

I have retired friends who say they’ve never been so busy since they quit work. Not me. I don’t sign up for things. I don’t make an effort to be social. I enjoy my own company more than being with groups of you. But I absolutely love having coffee with just you and having you share what’s happening in your life and how that makes you feel. I’m a one-on-one kinda person. 

Dixie and I are a great match! It’s a miracle really. When we got together, statistically we had a very small chance of surviving the first year or so. Both older, had former relationships and now set in our own independent ways. Dr. Phil would have given us little hope. 

But we are blessed with similar temperaments and he likes to disappear playing golf with his friends, having occasional “quiet pints” in the pub, reading a lot, and being comfortable with himself. And we both love all the time we spend together as well… taking walks, shopping, cooking, making music and going camping in the AvantBard.

Which leads me to our recent travels. (My muse is rolling her eyes that I have rambled so before even getting started on the travels. Her fault, she should have intervened).

So in late April we went back to the southeast, the area where the Normans first landed. That Norman history is so interesting to me. We parked at a church across from a pub in a little village called Carrick-on-Bannow and spent two nights undisturbed. The first evening, the pub owner played traditional Irish tunes on a mouth organ and he and Dixie had a little session together. I wish you could see the video but it won't upload. Suggestions welcome.

By day we visited ruins including 12th century St Mary’s Church in Bannow. We learned that in one year around that time 50% of the village residents died of the Black Death (Glad my muse just had the Covid... wouldn’t want to lose her for good). It’s hard to process the suffering back then… and in some places now.

St Mary's Church, Bannow

Who took the body???

After all this time you’d think the world would be a more hospitable, gentler place. But watching the news I see that things really haven’t progressed much. The strong still prey on the weak, power and wealth still corrupt, disease still happens, and the most vulnerable pay the price for the luxuries they never get to realize.

 

Jaysus… my muse better get into gear… I’m depressing myself!

Back to the road. While we were in the area we took the ferry to Saltee Island, just a 15 minute ride. It’s Ireland’s biggest and best bird sanctuary and we knew this time of year would be nesting season. There were only 10 or so of us on the boat and, being early in the season, this was the only run of the day. So we basically had the island to ourselves.

Since I’ve been in Ireland I’ve wanted to see a puffin. No need to have tea with one, just wanted to catch a glimpse. They typically nest in burrows near the water and on cliffs but only for three months or so then they’re gone. I don’t know where. Seeing a puffin has been on my bucket list.

When we landed on the island and walked a short way, I raised my binoculars in anticipation and sure enough, I thought I spotted one in the distance. I was getting really excited. Dixie called my name and I shooed him away with ”I think I see a puffin!” He called my name again and I could hear urgency in his voice. “For Pete’s sake, what is it? Have you broken your foot or something?”

I lowered my binocs and there at my feet stood a little black and white magician, looking at me curiously like he thought maybe I had appeared out of thin air. My mouth dropped of course. I stood like a statue and slowly raised my phone to get a photo. As the day wore on, I realized I needn’t have been so cautious. The puffins were everywhere and they were unafraid and unaffected by our intrusion.

 

We saw all kinds of birds I couldn’t name but especially gannets, razorbills and shags ( I looked them up)

 

I spent way too much time trying to get the perfect shot… took way too many pix. It’s been on my mind lately that when I take a photo, I’m really not living in the present moment but living in the future, when I can look at the pic or show it to you. How much more rewarding would it be to just breathe and let every magical moment imprint itself into my soul, even if my conscious mind doesn’t remember it all! I will be changed with each encounter and that should be more than enough.

I know it’s called living mindfully. It’s a popular topic nowadays because I think so many of us find it so hard to do and we want to do it. I’ve toyed with the idea of no photos but I’m just not ready for that yet. But I do want to savor my moments with nature as never before.

 

It’s starting to sink in that the climate crisis is real and it doesn’t look like there will be any significant solutions. When Americans say the economy is their most important priority I know we're in trouble. It’s become cliche to say The Earth Is Fragile and We Are Ruining The Environment. As Al Gore pointed out almost 20 years ago, it’s an Inconvenient Truth. I believe we are all in denial because it’s just too formidable and devastating and frightening to grasp. (That’s it… I’m firing my muse!)

Back to travel… in early May we went back to the annual Cuckoo Festival in Kinvara on the west coast. You can read about this festival in earlier posts. You might recall that last year we parked in a field and got stuck. Lordy, how inexperienced we were! 

This year we parked up right away on the harbor and had a fabulous time. One unexpected treat was an amazing old-time fiddler in the crowd. Look at the video. I felt a sense of nostalgia listening to the oldtime. It’s the genre that started me on the fiddle and I still love it.

In late May my brother Hal and his wife Lynn came to visit for two weeks. I was a little nervous about entertaining them for so long because Hal doesn’t really like sight seeing and is prone to motion sickness. He actually got queasy walking up the spiral staircase of a castle.

We went easy on him and stayed close to home, but had four fabulous music sessions that lasted almost til sunrise. He took Thurles by storm and we can’t wait for them to come back.

When they left, the summer sun rose up like the prodigal son who had been cursed for his absence but was now adored for his return. We were inspired to go somewhere we'd never been.

The Beara Peninsula is sandwiched between the more popular Ring of Kerry to the north and the southern tip of Cork to the south. We made no plans or arrangements. We just took off with enough food and water and comforts to last two or three days. You’d have thought we were heading into the wilderness.

As soon as we hit the peninsula we passed a road sign for Kinneigh Round Tower and went in search. It was an exquisite old abbey ruin with the round tower dating back to the 11th century. After exploring the tower, the church and the graves, we had lunch there in the camper.

This is cool if you can read it!

The scenery on Beara was breathtaking. At one point we found ourselves at a high elevation overlooking green fields, mountains, the sea and we could barely make out a beach in the distance. Then I could barely make out campers parked at the beach. We flew down and sure enough were able to camp in the field by the water.

See the beach way out there

We asked someone how to get to the nearest village and were pointed to a road. But the road forked and we, having a 50-50 chance, took the wrong fork. It turned into a long but impressive scenic hike and we had no regrets. Walking back to the camper was much quicker though.

The next day we drove all the way to the end of the peninsula where we took a cable car to an island just off shore. We walked a little ways there but mostly relaxed at the church ruin perched by the shore.

We spent the next night in a parking lot in Castletownbere, a fair sized port town. I was obsessed with finding a particular nearby stone circle I’d read about but we only found the way to it after asking someone on the street. All our maps, GPS, and internet directions had us going in circles (not to be confused with the stone circle we were looking for). But it was well worth the fuss.

Then heading home we zigzagged through two mountain passes. One took us north and the other brought us back south, almost where we started. The views were absolutely stunning and what’s more… the whole area was practically deserted. Not a single tour bus and very few vehicles at all. 

The surrounding peninsulas are highly publicized, marketed and cater to the crowds. We prefer the solitude and quaintness of small villages and towns where you assimilate with the locals and feel at home. The Beara Peninsula is a hidden gem of a place and we intend to go back. 

If you’ve read this far, you are a saint! This blog is mainly a personal journal to help me keep track of where we’ve been. It makes me very happy to know that someone back home actually reads it. Irish people often ask me how I landed in Ireland. I say I came for a short visit and got carried away by the fairies. 

Sometimes it feels like I am detached from America and yet not really Irish of course. It’s a quirky in-between place that isn’t really lonely but is strange. I am so grateful for friends like you on both sides of the pond. You are the real muse! Thank you!