Wednesday, 04-18-18
In Cairbre House, Abbeyside, Co. Waterford, Ireland. 51 deg, 78%, SSE 23 g32, all cldy, dew point 45 deg, pressure 29.97”, 3 mile visibility. We were just across the River Colligan from Dungarvan, which we could see outside our second-story window. The sea’s fluctuations here are nearly 12 feet.
Breakfast was fab and filling in the company of a quartet of friends whose names we’d yet to hear. Sun came out at last and the rain ended, but the wind kept on. We set out around 1:00, crossed the bridge, and made straight for Hallahan’s Pharmacy. There we met Audrey, Jamie, and a couple other of Mimi’s cousins. They were warm, friendly, and outgoing as we related our journey and connection. Mimi’s dad and uncle were both born in the building.
Visited many shops and sites: visitor centre for map and brochures, The Local pub for soup and Guinness, art store, art centre, charity shop for a toast rack, Beach House for Irish art, EuroGiant for gripper, mall for Vodaphone help, and regular grocery for dinner items and more elixir. Learned in the history museum that Tyrone Power’s great-grandfather wore the same name and was also an actor.
Stopped at Minnie’s pub to inquire about live trad there. None was yet on the schedule, so we just enjoyed two more pints. At another grocery, I found potato crisps.
Our evening meal, served on a low bench positioned between our beds, consisted of salad, crackers, cheese, and a Guinness West Indies porter. Eased out the evening sipping Bushmill’s, then wrote until 11-ish.
Thursday, 04-19-18
Posted the Wedding blog at last and got ourselves off around 11-something. Driving west, we got to one headland, Helvik, but mistook it for another. Found a working harbour where a couple seamen saw to to their duties as we absorbed the scene. Got lost on local roads until I turned on my phone’s roaming and asked a friendly female pedestrian for directions. This is a Gaeltacht, or region where Irish is the primary language.
Sun broke through as we rolled into Ardmore. It’s pleasant with its beach and sailor carved from a tree. Found almost nothing open near the strand, but Quinn’s Grocery sold us tea. We ate cheese and crackers sitting on a diminutive gray stone bench aside our little rental car, which we called Black Irish. Hiked up the hill to the country’s oldest round tower and a 5th or 9th century oratory, the supposed final resting place of St Dunstan, who (not Patrick) brought Christianity to Ireland and the village’s patron saint. Climbed a wall stile to enter the holy grounds and see the church ruin and its everywhere graves.
Spoke to a pleasant older gentleman about floods and blizzards. Found a fast, more direct route back to Dungarvan.
Stopped at the mall for a car power converter, facilities, map, doughnut, frozen yogurt, and reorientation. Headed northeast, then north, following the Mahon River to find its falls. Skies were clear where we began, but got densely foggy as we gained elevation. Drove on one-lane roads to park at the trailhead, then bundled up against the cool and set out. In only a few meters did we discover that the trail was in fact a rivulet. With no water bars or drain dips such as in a well-built path, a stream poured down the path’s groove, rendering it impassable without rubber boots. We turned back in defeat.
Took another local road which, according to our official Ordnance Survey map, promised standing stones and fortified houses. These we missed, but discovered a St Bridget’s Well a few steps around a wide pedestrian avenue between high limestone fences. The well held no water, but graves and a ruined chapel surrounded the haunting spot.
Returned to our lodging and got ready for a night on the town. Ate a big burger, mushroom soup, and salad on a puffy pastry bed with beer at the Interlude.
Revisited The Local, our favoured bar, where a lively trad music session was just beginning. We sat on high stools with our pints directly opposite whistle, guitar, and button accordion players. Much audience participation ensued, with several town folk offering songs. The crowd even let me contribute a couple sea shanties—my first time to perform in a genuine Irish pub.
Home to crash.
Friday, 04-20-18
40 deg, 96%, S 2 g 3, clear! dp 39 deg, 30.27”,15 mi viz. 8:08. Was foggy and bright earlier, then brilliant.
Headed towards the Copper Coast on first wide then narrow lanes. Found Ballydowane Cove and Bay, where we parked and walked to the shore. Here our eyes were rewarded with cliffs, waves, huge offshore rocks, seagulls, and an equestrian. Our nostrils flared to salt air, and our ears delighted in the pulsing roar of endless ocean.
On to Bunmahon with its visitor center in a former church, exhibits about area copper mining, and a barefoot stroll on the sandy strand. Saw surfers and evidence of an ancient wall guarding one of the cliffs. Still couldn’t perceive any of the several promontory forts or standing stones listed on the ordinance maps. Fog streamed in of a sudden.
Tramore is beyond the official Copper Coast route and appears touristy-resorty. We ate our snacks overlooking a green and lagoon while watching folks’ dogs run free. An amusement park called Splashworld wasn’t open, but lots of pipple strolled the elevated walkway overlooking Ireland’s longest beach.
Tired of roller-coaster curves, we headed back to our town via N25, reconnoitered at Cairbre House, and stepped into the village to check out the purported food festival just beginning. Found none of that. Checked in with Rosie Hallahan at the pharmacy, thanking her again for the welcoming friendship. Wandered around seeking charity shops, but they were already closed. Found fried cod with mashed potatoes and a veggie burger at Shamrock Restaurant, a tame place compared to pubs. Ambled into St Mary’s church and graveyard, where we spotted the whistle player from the trad session the night before. Seamus pointed to where he lives across the bay near two giant wind generators. Found a remnant of the original town wall from centuries ago and zillions of daisies amongst the headstones. Sat to watch a lone sailboat in the placid bay, then photographed a bit of the still-closed-for-the-season King John’s Castle. Home for another rest.
Double-timed it back to the Local, were three musicians readied electric amplification for their performance. A handsome young feller with a beard was none other than John Clancy, son of one of the famous brothers. They got going, and we couldn’t sit still. Thus completed our Irish mid-coast pub experience.
Saturday, 04-21-18
Last morning in Abbeyside. 42 deg, 100%, SE3 g4, ptly cldy, dp 42 deg. 30.12”, 10 mi viz. We dressed and were mostly packed. Good coffee. Relished our 9:00 breakfast: smoked salmon and cream cheese on bagel.
Breezed out of Dungarvan with many blessings from Brian. He’ll be retiring in a year and seeks someone to run the place. Examined maps and planned a route to the capital’s outskirts, hoping to figure the rest later. Smooth sailing most of the way, ‘cept for one near-scrape with a truck around a bend on a bridge in Fearns, a fort town. Stopped for petrol there, paying € 30 cash. Freeways a dream to cruise. Glimpsed the eastern ocean once by Arklow and grazed the rocky Wicklow Mountains.
Next: Dublin and Newgrange