Wicklow Mountains

I don’t know about you, but my phone and laptop know me better than I know myself. It seems every time I even think a thought (let alone speak a word), there the topic appears on my screen... with details I didn't know I needed to know. I wish my devices could be my lovers. I’d never have to ask for anything again. They would just know. 

Whenever I’m admiring pix of your grandkids on Facebook, seductive things pop up in my view… like megalithic tombs or sandy beaches. I always fall prey and abandon your grands for further Google searches to satisfy my lust for more Irish adventures. 

A couple of weeks ago an ad appeared for The Ballinastoe Woods Walk in County Wicklow. I believe Tolkien’s name was invoked to dazzle people like me into packing up the AvantBard (our rv) and heading east. We had just returned from a long weekend in the southwest (see post last week), but Siobhan, the weather lady, was calling for sunshine and I was feeling the spirit.  So what could we do?

Because we do have some commitments here at home, we planned to just be gone for one night. The Wicklow Mountains are about a two hour drive away.

Siobhan didn’t let us down. It was a gorgeous Thursday and a beautiful drive. A camping friend of ours had recommended a B&B in the area which turned out to be more like a lodge. They were happy to let us park up for the night in their lot… but not before we had rambled through a nearby woods beside a river to find a really pretty triple waterfall. A group of four young people were getting ready to go swimming there. As we scuffled away from them, we heard blood curdling screams. Guess the water was COLD!

When we returned to the lodge we were famished and they were serving dinner. We took a table by the fire and I had the first steak I’ve had in a very long time. And, like God, I saw that it was GOOD…VERY GOOD… and inexpensive. And morning and evening were the first day.

But not until this: It just so happened that a trad session was scheduled to take place at the lodge later that night. Imagine… on a Thursday night! We were assured we’d be welcome and of course we had guitar and fiddle in tow because you just never know. 

It was a small group that had disbanded before the holidays and were reconvening for the first time in the new year. The first guy to arrive looked vaguely familiar.

We introduced ourselves and he asked where we were from. “You’ve probably never heard of it,” says Dixie. “Thurles in Tipperary.” The guy’s eyes popped open and his face lit up. He was from Loughmore which is a village of Thurles. His brother (who looks just like him) plays music with us at the Monk’s Pub every Wednesday night. Just shaking my head. It was a really nice evening.

The next morning we set out to find the spot I saw on Facebook that looked like Middle Earth. I’ll let the photos speak for themselves. It was a glorious little hike over the mountains. There’s a boardwalk path we followed and honestly, I never found the spot that was publicized although I know we were in the right place. But that didn’t matter at all because it was just so perfect of a day. The views did not disappoint! 

As we were driving away from the mountains, I asked Dixie to pull into a scenic overlook so I could take a few shots. As I was walking uphill and about to cross the road back to the Bard, something happened. I don’t know what. Did I trip? I was instantly on the ground… feeling a fierce pain shoot up my arm and hearing an alarming crunch. 

“Please God, let that sound be my wrist and not my iPhone!" Sad to say, I would be lost without my phone. It was, in fact, the edge of my iPhone case. What a relief! The phone and my hand were still intact, although the hand did swell and bleed a little but thank God it still works (to play Wordle and see pix of your grands).

I’ll be flying to Florida at the end of the month (first class and non-stop for a change). Can’t wait to see all my family. Thirteen of us gathering together, if no one gets Covid or breaks a hip. In the mean time Dixie and I will start preparing the garden for spring flowers, feed the birds, practice our music, watch as little news as possible and hope to see or hear from you soon.

 

 

Is It Spring Yet?

You may have noticed (or maybe not) that I haven’t posted in a while. We haven’t taken our rv, the AvantBard, out since before the holidays. The weather has been “cat” as they say, and I am on day 108 of what they’re calling “The Hundred Day Flu”. It’s a bad cold that’s going around and won’t go away. It’s slowly drifting away from my eyes and ears leaving just a little residue in my lungs. Springtime, where are you???

But this past week we started making up for lost time. We actually went on TWO camping trips. One to the west and one to the east.

As you may recall, every February we go to the Scoil Cheoil an Earraigh (Music School of the Spring) in Ballyferriter near Dingle in the beautiful southwest. This is a Gaeltacht area of Ireland meaning Irish is the first language there. 

The weather forecast is always a consideration when going anywhere in Ireland. Siobhan, the weather lady, cautioned it would be miserable in the southwest but what could we do? The festival wouldn’t wait.

We were surprised to drive the entire three and a half hour journey with not a trickle of rain. But we did notice the wind picking up the closer we got to the coast. We were expecting dark clouds and showers and were glad we’d be mostly inside for the weekend.

That evening Dixie unleashed his guitar at a little session in one of the pubs across from our usual parking spot. I relaxed and listened. Around 2 AM we strolled back to the Bard in a little drizzle, feeling like we’d dodged a bad weather bullet. We crawled into our cozy sleeping bags and settled down for the proverbial long winter’s nap (although they were calling it spring). 

When…. Whoa… what’s going on!!! I woke with a start feeling tossed about in a clothes dryer! Lashing wind and rain relentlessly swirling and pounding from all sides. We had our front wheels up on chocks for leveling, and I was certain we were going to be swept off and sucked up Wizard of Oz style. My head was spinning with dread as fast as Auntie Em’s unfortunate farmhouse. I had no idea where we’d be at sunrise. And where was Toto?

In spite of my fears, this was actually pretty exciting. I’m too old to die young so bring on the adventure, right? Once the storm began I never got back to sleep and I was even a little sea sick. It was definitely a rollicking night to remember. That Dixie slept through it all… too many large bottles of Guinness I think.

Next morning some shopping, beach combing and rambling around Dingle. It had all calmed down and the Bard was still on the chocks.

 

A big change from former years… two girlfriends to play with! Their husbands are musicians and they love to come along in their campers. I introduced the two of them and now we’re all tight. We’re already planning the next trip out in April.

By four in the afternoon our little entourage from Thurles (about ten of us) had arrived and sussed out a spot in a quiet pub. We began the long (eight hour!) session that would highlight the weekend. Full of confidence and anticipation I opened my fiddle case and… NO BOW!!! I’d left the %^&*(& bow at home! It was an easy mistake to make that involved changing fiddles and fiddle cases and bows the night before then changing back. Still, it was like I’d been hit over the head with a banjo.

Of course, disappointments come and go throughout life. I’ve had my share and I’m sure so have you. But it’s been a while since I slipped off the moon and hit the ground so hard. I know it was very inconsequential in the scheme of things, but nevertheless I was actually stunned for a moment. Can’t play without a bow. I’d just have to… sit and listen to trad for hours on end. Irish trad is great to PLAY but… eight hours suddenly seemed like a very long time.

I need not have fret (or is it fretted?) Immediately phones came out and pleas were extended. Within an hour I had a very nice bow to borrow for the weekend and all was well. I love these guys! They always have my back (and no one even mentioned the word ‘dementia’).

The next day we relaxed in the cool, calm, dry Kerry air then another session at night. You can see the video of me leading a small crowd in a couple of verses of Cill Chais which is a song I learned in Irish. Many Irish people learned it in school so they sing along. It’s about the sorrow from the felling of the forest surrounding Cill Chais castle. It was written as a poem in the early eighteenth century.

Before we headed for home Sunday, we returned the bow to it’s generous owner and stopped by Wine Strand, a nearby beach I’d never been to but seen signs for. Couldn’t believe my eyes as we drove down the narrow boreen to the beach and there in a farmer’s field overlooking the beach… three glorious standing stones. 

I wriggled under the barbed wire fence to get a closer look. One of them was an ogham stone which you will recall is a standing stone with the ogham alphabet carved along its edge. The ogham alphabet is a series of strokes across horizontal lines that was used from the 4th-9th centuries and, on the stones, was probably spelling out names.

Isn’t this the best kind of discovery… one you didn’t google or find on a website but just popped up unexpectedly out of nowhere? As C.S. Lewis would say, I was “surprised by joy” (although Lewis was referring to Jesus and I just saw three old stones).

We were home Sunday night and saw the forecast looked fabulous for the next weekend. With cautious optimism we started googling and looking at maps! Then on Thursday we were off to the Wexford mountains in the east. See you there in the next post.