There are a number of places on this earth for which I feel a deep kinship-Maine immediately comes to mind as do the Maritime Provinces of Canada. When I think about where I'm from-the dusty plains of the Texas panhandle-I realize that the places I feel most at home are far removed from my roots.
I have had the good fortune to visit Ireland 3 times and am increasingly drawn to it's gorgeous landscapes and sense of Spirit abiding throughout. I know I am not alone in this as the island has been attracting pilgrims since before Christ and I am just the latest in that lineage.
After my trip to Inis Mor last October I came home insisting that Bill take a trip with me to the west coast of the Emerald Isle. He had never been before and I knew he would fall in love with the pastoral landscapes. Even though he'd previously said that he was done with international travel I managed to twist his arm and designed a trip to allow him time for rest and relaxation.
Then it was time to pick up our rental car...gulp. Because of Bill's age I had to do all the driving, and, yes, that would be on the left-hand side of the road, with the steering wheel on the right, and stick-shift on the left. That's right, the car had a standard transmission and thank goodness I can drive one-with my right hand! Well, it wasn't too bad-I'm sure I was the object of many curses and I did run over a few curbs, but that's all. You might notice how tiny this car is-even the tires were not full-size. I was grateful for how small it was on the narrow roads, especially when passing a tour bus.
We had only a general schedule for each day and allowed time to ramble through the countryside. We stopped at many ruins and enjoyed a some delicious coffee breaks.
For the most part we stayed away from the guidebooks' suggestions, preferring instead to choose our own path. But we did attend a wonderful medieval dinner at Dunguaire Castle, above, thanks to Rick Steves. We climbed a narrow staircase to the large dining room and sat at long tables, family-style. Mead and wine were freely poured! After dinner we were entertained by the likes of James Joyce and William Butler Yeats, both writers who had a deep connection to Ireland's west coast.
We did have a general desire for the trip, which was to enjoy the landscape and experience the abundant antiquities. Ruins from the 7th century were not an unusual sight as we drove along the back roads and often a herd of cattle was grazing in the same field. Above you see Kilmacdough Abbey with it's notable round tower of over 98 feet tall.
You know the abundant hanging fuschia baskets found in garden shops in the spring? I've had one maybe once or twice and never successfully. This plant grows wild throughout Ireland- as hedges along the roadside or fields. Gorgeous! I could easily do an entire post of the flowers and blooming shrubs we saw.
We ended our trip in the town of Killaloe at the foot of Lough Derg, where we spent three nights at this charming B and B, Kincora House. This was where I had my greatest challenge with the car, trying to parallel park on a narrow street and steep hill. Our hostess Deborah finally just came out and did it for me! Deborah was the epitome of Irish hospitality, arranging a private tour of the nearby St. Flannan's Cathedral.
After stumbling around numerous ruins all week it was an enormous treat to walk into a 12th century cathedral still in use. Our tour guide let me play the organ (brought tears to my eyes) before marching us up the 130 steps to the bell tower where I played a phrase of My Shepherd Will Supply My Need on the carillon. From the top of the tower we had a bird's-eye view of the entire area.
Later that day Deborah took us on a drive high up in the hills to see peat being harvested. Bill very much wanted to see that as well as smell it being burned-so guess what Deborah did for him that evening?
I think this last photo is a good way to sum it all up...
