Inishmore – What a day!

I woke up on my second day on Inishmore to a wonderful breakfast at Cliona’s house. Then, I packed up my rain gear, camera, water bottle and snacks for my outing on my rented bicycle. It was a beautiful, warm day with a mix of sun and cloud and little wind. A great day for cycling!

My first destination was the “Worm Hole”, a remarkable pool made by nature in a perfect rectangle. It’s hard to believe that it is not man made! The pool became widely known when Red Bull sponsored a diving competition there (look it up on youtube!)

Cliona let me know how to find the pool which is on the western side of the island. First, I travelled on a rough, back road that crossed the island and then travelled northwards, towards Dun Aengus. There was not a soul on that road, and I couldn’t stop taking pictures of the fences and fields.

Looking south. The mainland and the Cliffs of Moher are far off on the horizon.

My route across the island, up and then over.

Looking north, with Dun Aengus in the far distance on the clifftop.

When the farmers want to move cattle from one enclosure to another, they just undo a section of fence, and then built it up again.

Look at all the stone, row after row of fences, and more stones in the fields!

Finally I arrived at this path to the ocean.

This is a storm beach of huge rocks and some boulders that are flung far back onto the land during Atlantic storms. I crossed this storm beach, and then travelled on the limestone shelves for about 500 m to reach the Worm Hole.

And this is it! The Worm Hole – a completely natural geologic feature!

There were two other people at the Worm Hole when I was there. With the person on the ledge, you can get a bit of perspective on the size of the size of the pool and rock ledges. In the Red Bull competition, the divers dive from the topmost layer of rock.

As I walked back, I looked more closely at the cliff face. (It is difficult to see, but in the photo above, the person standing on the lighter coloured rock has a huge amount of rock above their head.) The limestone cliffs are being eroded at their forward edge by the action of the sea, but also by rain which falls from above and seeps down the cracks in the limestone. Both physical and chemical weathering occur because as the rain mixes with carbon dioxide in the air, a mild carbonic acid is created which slowly dissolves the limestone.

When the rainwater finds a seam of weaker, softer rock, that rock erodes more quickly…

…leading to overhanging portions of rock which eventually give way catastrophically, as in the photo below. This geology lesso is important for later in the afternoon!

After recrossing the island to the eastern side, my next stop was Kilmurvy Beach, a beautiful, curving beach with soft white sand, lovely green and blue water, and a view of the Connemara mountains across the water.

I walked the length of the beach barefoot, tried out the very very very cold water for about two seconds, and then amused myself for awhile organizing limpets and a gull’s feather for some nature art. (At Dun Aengus, almost 8 tonnes of limpet shells were found during the excavations!!)

After my time at the beach, I cycled back south in order to go visit Dun Duchathair, the “Black Fort”. Unlike Dun Aengus which is protected and operated by Heritage Ireland, the black fort has no admission fee, no interpretive centre, and as far as I know, no geotechnical engineer vouching for the safety of the site for it too, sits perched on the edge of highly undercut cliffs.

There was about 3 km of very bumpy road to negotiate, and then the bike had to be left behind to walk on the limestone pavement alongside, and sometimes over, fence after fence.

I arrived at the cliff edge and this was the view to the north. Erosion, yikes! Is the piece of limestone I am standing on undercut?

The Black Fort was south of me, on a deeply undercut promontory.

It’s difficult to see, but the cliff is undercut by maybe 20 m at the water line.

As I walked over and around to the promontory, there was a jumbled field of upright rocks. This was also present before the outer walls at Dun Aengus, and is presumed to be the remnants of a sort of spiky line of defense against any oncoming invaders.

I got closer to the fort, but was wary about going out onto the promontory until I saw a family of 5, with three young daughters, come out from behind the wall on the left. If they can do it, I can do it…

Getting closer and heading towards the left.

This was the view as I came to the edge of the wall on the left!

It looks wider in this photo, but the distance to get around the wall was maybe 150 cm. I was holding my breath, hanging onto the wall with my left hand, thinking about undercut cliffs and catastrophic failure…A quick photo to the south…

A quick photo of the inside of the fort…

And then another quick photo before I slowly and carefully edged my way around the wall, and headed as carefully, quickly, and *lightly*, as I could away from the Black Fort!

Phew! What an adventure! I was exhilirated, but slowly getting tired too. I rode my bike to the main village, Kilronin, to pick up an easy lunch at the Spar grocery store. Juice, banana, a scone with butter and jam, and yummy Irish bacon left over from my breakfast. I rode again south of the village, around a beautiful sweeping bay edged with white sand to find a place on the rocks for my picnic.

A beautiful place, a beautiful summer afternoon that reminded me of that feeling you get on Hornby Island, and suddenly I missed my family so much. It was the first time I have felt lonely on this trip. I was just feeling so sad that they could not be here with me, enjoying this special island.

I cycled further to even more beautiful beaches, edged with sanddunes.

It was almost unbearable! Knowing that I had to leave the next day, with so much still explore, and yet tired from my big day. Here are a few other scenes from the beautiful Aran island of Inishmore.

Inishmore – An exhilirating first day!

I woke up early to hear rain falling on the sky light in my Doolin hostel room. It was a very gray, blustery, and wet day so, after my breakfast, I packed up, donned all of my rain gear, put the rain cover over my big pack, and started down the road for the 2 km walk to the Doolin pier to catch my ferry to Inishmore, the largest of the three Aran Islands.

I love this photo of the cracked limestone rock, looking towards the pier.

Here are ferries, waiting for their busy day of taking tourists to the islands or to view the Cliffs of Moher from below (although the Pirate Queen on the left looks like a fishing boat), and then my “ferry”, the Rose of Aran, a bit rusty looking!

What a crossing! The Rose of Aran loaded an alarmingly large number of passengers. Almost everyone squeezed into a seating area in the hull that had no windows, and I immediately decided to head back out onto the deck, despite the rain, as it felt somewhat claustrophobic inside and I didn’t want to be in close proximity to anyone who might get seasick! It was great on deck! I set myself up in a corner of the stern and hung on for dear life as we swayed up and down big swells, with waves crashing all around. It was a madly fun, rollicking, rolling ride, though the pictures don’t show it!

We got to Inishmore and the weather had mostly cleared up. I decided to take a tour bus (van) to the other end of the island to get the lay of the land and to visit a few places, and then the driver would let me off mid-island at my airbnb, Cliona’s house, which he knew because there are only 900 permanent residents on Inishmore. The principal source of income on the Aran Islands used to be fishing, but it is now tourism and up to 3000 people can visit Inishmore a day in the high season.

Bertie was our driver, and he was quite funny and boyish and fun. He grew up on the island and pointed out his parents’ house, and where he went to school. The Aran Islands are the eastern-most part of the Burren landscape of limestone pavement. The island is long, low, and rounded, and criss-crossed by a crazy maze of dry stone fences that divide the island into small, family-owned pastures for cows, horses, a few goats, and the occassional lovely donkey!

Bertie pointed out several of the last remaining thatched cottages on the island, and one in serious disrepair! There are many remnants of old stone cottages, as well other abandonded houses, left empty as some islanders emigrated and never returned.

We stopped at the peaceful ruins of St.Brechan’s Church, built in the 8th century.

And then we visited Dun Aengus, the remains of what was once a huge, circular, iron age stone fort. It is the largest such fort in Europe, and the site encompasses 14 acres. The fort is perched at the edge of the cliffs, 300 feet above the sea. Half of the fort has fallen away into the ocean as the limestone cliffs have eroded over time. Built around 1100 BC, there are the remains of at least four concentric dry stone walls, which are up to 4 metres thick in some places! In the centre, there is a rectangular stone slab platform, and it is a very scarey feeling to stand on it and near the edge of it, with the Atlantic waves crashing far below.

The dramatic cliff scenery began on the approach to Dun Aengus.

After entering from an external wall, here is a view looking up the the inner wall.

This is a view of the cliffs to the south taken from the edge of the inner wall.

I am on the central platform, looking back a the inner wall.

And I am on the central platform looking out at the Atlantic. I stayed for quite a while at the site, and you could clearly see the rain advancing, then clearing up, then advancing again.

These are the cliffs looking north from the inner wall.

Notice how the limestone often breaks off in a rectangular shape.

It was very exciting being up so high, and so close to such a precipitous edge. What a place to live! I can’t imagine any woman, even an iron age one, arriving at such a wild, windy, and rocky land and saying, “Oh, this is the place! I want to live here honey.” It was probably the men who just started stacking rocks!

Soon after leaving the fort, I climbed over the stone fence and headed closer to the sea. Look at that landscape!

The waves made a wonderful roaring sound as they crashed into and swirled around the deeply undercut cliff. I didn’t get too close to the edge, just in case!

Finally, this is the path leading down from the fort, back to the interpretive centre.

After my van tour, I met my airbnb hostess, Cliona, and her two lovely daughters. This is my room! There’s a view of the sea from my bedside window, as well as a view of the ruins of an 8th century church, dedicated to Saint Ciaran.

After settling in a bit, I walked the 2 kilometers into town to rent a bike for my next day on the island. I cycled back towards my accommodation along the lower coast road, and ended my exhilirating day by having a quiet moment at a beach that has a small colony of seals, and is backed by a small wetland.

Doolin, The Burren, and the Cliffs of Moher

Yesterday was a big travel travel day, with a little more than six hours of riding on the buses or waiting for connections, from Dingle to Tralee, then to Limerick, then Ennis, then Doolin. It was a grey day, with some rain, so it was nice to be inside the bus looking at the countryside and occasionally reading (I may do a blog later about the Irish books I’ve been reading).

I arrived at Doolin hostel at around 4 o’clock, thrilled again with my room and the facilities here (kitchen, cafe, lounge, breakfast included…). Best of all, the Doolin hostel is basically the starting point for a trail that travels up to and along the cliffs of Moher and beyond to Liscannor.

The distance from the hostel to the Cliffs of Moher Visitors Centre is 8 km, and my plan was to walk that distance and then return to the hostel from the Visitor Centre by the last Bus Eireen of the evening, at 7:10. So that meant I had to walk at a good pace in order to make it there in time to catch the bus back. I quickly gathered up the essentials and headed out, happy to be moving again.

Looking back towards Doolin, after walking just a minute or two up the road.

And closer. The trail will veer off to the left along the fence line and start to climb. There was a beautiful bird of prey, maybe a sparrow hawk or a merlin, on the fence post. Why do I keep forgetting my zoom lens in my big pack!

But, the weather was not cooperating. The wind was strong, and for the first two kilometers or so there was mist and some light rain, but it was still o.k. Then, as I climbed higher up, the rain really started to come down and the trail drew very close to the cliff edge. I wasn’t feeling confident about the cliff edge because of that whoozy feeling you get sometimes when you have spent a long time in a moving vehicle, and you feel like you’re still moving. So, I reluctantly turned back, but instead of feeling disappointment, I experienced a nice feeling of relief because now I didn’t have to get somewhere by a certain time, along a clifftop (!), and I could travel back slowly and really look around me, wet though I was! The limestone pavement below the cliff path was patterned and cut along interesting triangular lines, and remarkably square lines.

I was very happy to photograph blue campanula, and some pink sea thrift, most of which had finished blooming and was now a quite pretty brown, and some I found which were still pink.

Once I got back to the hostel, dried off, and hung up all my wet things, I used their kitchen to prepare a nice hot dinner of roast chicken and steamed baby carrots and broccoli (my fourth good meal, plus snacks, from groceries purchased for 14 Euro, which is about what one restaurant meal would cost). I had an early night, and a good sleep, and I woke up to a beautiful day of mixed sun and cloud, warm, with barely a puff of wind! Such a contrast from yesterday!

I decided to take the bus to the Cliffs of Moher as there is a Bus Eireen stop at the Visitors Centre, a very busy place where countless coach buses and cars arrive each hour to discharge tourists to see the cliffs, which is the number one most visited site in Ireland. But, it was still relatively early, and not too busy, and I had one hour to walk along the cliff top path and take pictures in both directions. Here are the famous Cliffs of Moher.

Upon my return to Doolin, I strolled around the tiny village, took a few pictures, and had a nice lunch before returning to the fabulous Doolin hostel to relax for a bit.

Then, in the mid-afternoon, I took another bus to travel 9 km north to the village of Lisdoonvarna to await a ride from Tony Kirby who runs guided walking tours of the Burren. The Burren is a unique landscape of limestone pavement that covers about 250 square km. It is unlike any other landscape in Europe, and is also special because of the unique diversity of its plant life. The limestone rock is aligned as cliffs and terraces, and the flat terraces have many cracks, deep fissures, and indentations which provide microclimates for a rare and unlikely mix of alpine, arctic, coastal, and mediterranean plants to co-exist. The area is also significant because of its archaeological sites, including more than 90 megalithic tombs, and some stone hillforts.

Tony provided an excellent tour and gave details of the geology, archaeology, flora, fauna, and human use of the Burren. He also recited several very moving poems that fit our surroundings perfectly. Our tour was on the western edge of the Burren, right beside the sea, and it was so nice to be near the ocean again.

Here are some images of the limestone pavement with its cracks and indents.

These plants have found a cozy niche, out of the wind.

Here are some other photos of plants and flowers we saw, with names like cranesbill geranium, sea campion, sea pinks, eye bright, and yarrow.

Our tour ended at an unexcavated megalithic wedge tomb, the western-most such site in the Burren.

It was, yet again, another day in Ireland filled with history, beautiful landscapes, and feelings of gratitude – for the sun and the sea, and for Tony’s tour and his gracious and generous sharing of his knowledge with us about a very unique place.

An easy Dingle day

I must show you my accommodation in Dingle at the Eask View Hostel, just a 10 minute walk from the center of town, facing the sea and flanked to one side and behind by fields.

Yesterday, after my arrival by Bus Eireen in the late afternoon, I bought some groceries, walked to the hostel, checked in, and then had several hours of just enjoying the hostel. No-one else was about, and it was fun to pretend that this grand old house was mine!

I prepared a healthy dinner of salad and store-roasted chicken in the kitchen.

I worked on my ipad in the parlour and at the table in the bay window.

I read in the sunroom entrance, and in my pretty bedroom, both with a sea view.

How lucky I am! Down the road, the Dingle Skellig hotel charges more than 200 Euro for a room, and here I can have all of the above, plus friendly young staff and a continental breakfast for 65 Euro a night. No wonder I spent the whole of yesterday evening, and a good part of my day today, just relaxing in this wonderful hostel.

This morning, I had booked an archaeology tour of the Dingle Pensinsula with Tim Collins. There was rather less archaeology than I was hoping for, but nevertheless the tour was a very pleasant way to see a good portion of the Dingle Peninsula around the famous Slea Head road. Tim picked me up first from the hostel, so I had a front seat in the van, which I almost regretted a few times as we travelled on the ocean-side of a narrow twisting cliff-top road, high up with the Atlantic just below.

But our first stop, before the cliff road, was to see a collection of Ogham stones, displayed on the grounds of the old Ventry estate. Ogham is a written script of Old Irish which was carved on upright stones from roughly the 4th to 7th centuries, often to mark territory, or on burial stones to record the name and ancestry of the deceased. The lines of various length and positioning represent the sounds of 20 letters in our current alphabet.

We made a stop to view and photograph Slea Head and the Blasket Islands. Slea Head is the western-most point of Ireland, and I had wanted to walk out to that point (as a complement to my visit to Cape Spear in Newfoundland, the eastern-most point in North America), but time did not allow for a walk out to the end of Slea Head. I’ll have to do that on my next visit to Dingle!

Slea Head is the low, rounded cape, just to the right of centre in the photo, with the Blasket Isands off to the left.

A view looking back to Slea Head once we’d travelled past it.

This was my favourite view of the day, of Clogher Beach, and a trio of small peaks, far back in the centre, “The Three Sisters”.

We stopped at the Reask Monastic site, which dates from the 6th century. A lone standing stone, inscribed with a cross at the top, and Celtic symbols below, which was half buried in the soil, marked the place where the remains of the settlement were hidden from view, buried beneath sod, until the 1970s when a team of archaeologists excavated the site over three seasons and revealed the foundations of walls, a rectangular oratory, and circular beehive huts which housed the monks. At least 23 similar sites have been found along the edges of the Dingle peninsula.

Our final stop of the tour was at the Gallus Oratory, the only remaining one of its kind in the world that it perfectly intact. Built in the 7th or 8th century, without mortar, it has a beautiful shape and is completely waterproof. It is aligned east/west, with a western doorway and an eastern window. It has been standing here for 900 years!

Our tour lasted almost three hours, with Tim providing commentary about the peninsula’s places, history, landscape, and plants. It was a very enjoyable and easy way to get to know a little more about this beautiful, western-most corner of Ireland.

Comfort, Romance, and Reality

Yesterday as I was walking down from the hill above Annauscaul Lake, wet, and with my feet completely soaked and squishing as I walked, I wasn’t too concerned as I knew that just a few hours away I would arrive to dry socks and shoes and an easy cup of coffee and food.

Being here, I have a tendency to romanticize the landscape, the castles, the monastic life, the farms and little stone houses with slate-covered roofs. But the reality for the people who have lived here over the centuries, and even millenia, is of an existence, until recent times, dominated by wet, cold conditions, hard work, poverty, hunger, illness, invasion, fear, superstition, and the hardships of losing loved ones to disease, war, famine and emigration.

The toughest of the tough have survived, and gone on to live their lives and raise their families in Ireland, and all over the world where the Irish emigrated and started new lives. So, as I enjoy the comforts and hospitality of this country, I need to be cognizant of what went on before, and grateful of all that is here now. I wish with all my heart for the continued peace and prosperity of Ireland and its people.

Giving thanks at Annascaul Lake

When I was planning my trip to Ireland, and researching walks in the Dingle peninsula, I came across an image on google of a beautiful little mountain lake in a steeply-sided valley. After further research, I found that the lake was called Annascaul Lake and that it was located 4 km from the village of Annascaul. I felt strongly drawn to that lake, and I showed the image to Brent, and later to my mom, and I said to each of them, “I am going to go to that lake, lie down on the road, look up at the sky, and give thanks to the universe for bringing me there.” And that is what I did!

I woke up to rain and cloudly skies (I guess “red skies at night” doesn’t work here!), but it soon stopped raining and cleared up a bit, and the day would continue to alternate between periods of light rain, heavy rain, cloud, and a bit of sun.

After an exceptional breakfast at the Old Anchor Inn, I packed up a day pack, and was able to leave my big bag in the parlour at the Inn. I headed down the street, past the South Pole Inn, and turned right up a country road.

There were wild flowers all along the road, including masses of small pink roses which made me think of my mother, Lise.

After about 3 km of steady walking, I was getting closer to the valley.

Then, after passing through the gates, the road descended down to the lake. Here are the first views, from the side, then as I got closer, backwards towards Annascaul, and then towards the headwaters.

And this is the view that I fell in love with, though the view I had seen must have been from the Autumn as the colours had been gold and brown, instead of this summer green. True to my promise, and with no-one there but me, I laid down on the road, looked up at the sky, and gave thanks to the universe for bringing me there. I lay in shivasana for awhile, grateful and happy.

Then, of course, the road carried on so enticingly and the valley ahead beckoned, so of course I kept on walking.

The road started to climb, up alongside a waterfall…

with great views back towards the lake.

Soon the route began to zigzag up the hillside along an old track, built in the 1930s, but it was very boggy and wet and soon my feet were completely soaked. It made me more strongly aware and appreciative of how lucky I had been to have had such dry, sunny weather on my Wicklow Way walk!

There were streams and water everywhere, and then it really started to rain.

The saddle was so tatalizingly close, and every hiker wants to see the other side of the mountain, so I kept going up. But, like a mirage, sometimes the summit recedes even as you get closer to it. “Another 15 minutes, and then I’ll turn back.” After I had said this three times, the summit seemed closer, but with no guarantee that the next 15 minutes would bring me there. Finally, I turned back, conscious that I would need to descend carefully on the loose, slippery rocks, and that I had to allow enough time for the walk back in order to get my bus to Dingle.

Here are a last few images of the lake and valley on my descent.

As I arrived beside the lake, there was an older couple, well into their sixties, heading out for a hike. They were expertly kitted out, with skookum rain gear, gaiters, packs and poles. They have hiked in this valley often and choose their own routes, sometimes up the steep valley sides, along gullies and up onto the cliffs. We had a nice talk about hiking and route finding, and we wished each other well. After they had headed off, I looked back and said another quiet and heartfelt “thank you” to the lake, and then I headed back down the country road, a little tired, a lot wet, and very very happy.

Today is Today, in Annascaul

Well, today is actually today, or tonight is actually tonight, as it is just past 10 p.m. Here is the view out the window of my room here in Annascaul. Red skies at night…

I am in real time now with this blog. But, I might head down to the South Pole Inn soon as they have music on tonight, Saturday night. But, then again, I might not. When I planned this trip, I imagined myself listening to wonderful Celtic music every evening, (actually I was also dancing), but I haven’t done so once as I cannot stay up that late! I am also not much of a drinker, and worry what I might do or say if I have more than one cider…

The only music I’ve heard here in Ireland, other than in shops, has been on the buses – usually modern pop tunes (please save me!), or easy-listening from the 70s and 80s, American-style (Lionel Ritchie is in town!). The radio sounds incredibly, annoyingly, exactly like back home, except for the Irish accents which improve it somewhat: traffic reports, celebrity news, urgings to see some kitten online, fast banter between the hosts, faster yammering on the ads…sheesh!

I had a big travel day today, leaving Cashel at 10:05 for Cork, then a wait before the next leg to Tralee, then another wait before the last leg to Annauscaul on the Dingle peninsula, arriving somewhat behind schedule at about 5:30. Now, I haven’t really been giving details about accommodations, but I can’t resist showing this photo of the Old Anchor Inn, my home for the night, and its lovely dining room and parlor.

Immediately after checking in, I headed off in the direction of Inch Beach, a place that I was very excited to see (having been missing the sea!). Despite its name, it is actually one of the longest beaches in Ireland at 5 km, and is backed by sand dunes. But, the walk there was farther than expected, with a very big hill to climb first, and I grew concerned about the limited evening hours left to get to the beach, actually spend some good time there, and have time to return before dark. So, after about 3 km, including conquering the hill and rounding the corner, I contented mself with just a photo of the beach and then I returned, just a little disappointed in myself, back to Annascaul.

But, on the positive side, I did get to stretch my legs after a whole day on the buses, and I did get lovely glimpses of Annascaul Lake, my destination for tomorrow, off in the distance, past the fields and between the hills.

The walk down the hill was much easier than going up!

I decided to splurge on dinner at the South Pole Inn, which is famous for having been owned by the Antarctic explorer, Tom Crean who sailed with Scott and Shackleton and who was awarded with three Polar Medals for brave and truly remarkable deeds and heroism.

Which brings me to wondering whether I should head down there to listen to some music. But, it’s past 11 now, and I’m quite happy here, so I’ll just say goodnight.

Cashel and Cahir Castle

I have had a very quiet day today, with a lot of rest, correspondence with friends and family, time spent just doing nothing, and time spent catching up on my blog. I’m almost caught up!

This morning, after my first “full Irish fry” breakfast of bacon, sausage, egg, toast, and white pudding at my very nice bed and breakfast, I headed out early to take a few photos of the very pretty and colourful town of Cashel.

One of my favourite buildings is Fahy’s where I had a tasty lunch yesterday when I first got into town…

and I had a nice fish and chip dinner at “The Brian Boru”. Notice the “Bookmaker” to the left!

After taking my morning photos, I caught the 10:05 Bus Eireen bus on the Main Street to travel 20 minutes south to another very pretty and colourful town, Cahir.

Did you notice the castle on the left in the centre shot? The Anglo-Norman castle at Cahir sits right in the middle of town, built on an island in the center of the River Suir. Begun in the year 1142, the castle underwent several expansions and renovations in the 13th, 15th, and 17th centuries. It is one of the few early Anglo-Norman castles in Ireland that is in not in ruins, having only once been taken, after only a 3 day siege, during the Elizabethan wars. The castle escaped destruction in 1650 when the Lord of Cahir surrendered to Oliver Cromwell rather than fight what would have been a losing battle.

I was blessed with a sunny day again, and there were few tourists at the castle so it was very pleasant to walk all over the castle grounds, up spiral staircases into the rooms of the keep, deep down to the musty well, and up to the top of a round tower. Again, there was an excellent, free guided tour by Heritage Ireland, a film recounting the history of Cahir castle and other Irish castles, and many interpretive displays.

Here are a few photos of the castle exterior.

As well as some photos from inside the grounds and some interior shots.

Partway up the wall you can see a cannon ball, stuck there since the siege in 1599!

In the banquet hall, there is a set of antlers from the extinct Giant Elk. Thought to be between 9000 to 12000 years old, the antlers were found preserved in a peat bog.

From atop a round tower one can see up one side of the main street, and down the other.

After my time in the castle, I strolled down river a little ways to where there was a flotilla of beautiful white geese, including five gostlings. I had watched three young teen boys earlier, up on the main street near the castle, looking like they were up to no good. As I was having my lunch by the river, watching the geese, the boys strutted by on the opposite shore, full of negative energy. Then one of them found some spilled grain which he threw at the geese rather disrespectfully and the other two joined in, but within a just a few moments their coolness and toughness and disrespect melted away before my eyes and they became young boys again, innocent and kind and gentled by the act of feeding the geese, wanting the geese to eat from their hands. It was something to see! When the grain was done, they put their toughness back on like jackets and sauntered off again. I felt sad for them, (though happy that they had had that moment, by the river, in the sun, being kind) and I wished with all my heart that this part of their growing-up years will pass safely and without harm for them.

I headed back to Cashel, and decided to have a restful, restorative afternoon and evening. Thank you for reading.

The Rock of Cashel, and Hore Abbey

On my day of departure from Glendalough, I woke early to catch the 7:15 St. Kevin’s coach bus from Glendalough to Dublin. It was very nice to just sit and relax and look at the green countryside and the small towns that we passed through on our way north, back to Dublin.

Dropped off at St. Stephen’s Green, I made my way on foot through the busy city center to the main bus station, Busaras, to catch a Bus Eireen coach bus (the Irish equivalent of Greyhound, but nicer!). Online, I had bought an “Open Road” pass for 6 days of unlimited travel out of 12 consecutive days, which worked out be a little less expensive than buying individual tickets to my planned destinations. Bus Eireen has routes all over Ireland to the major towns and many smaller ones as well. It is an excellent way to travel and eliminates the stress of renting a car and driving on the left!

After two hours of southwesterly travel, out of Dublin and its suburbs and into the beautiful, rolling, agricultural county of Tipperary, the bus arrived at the very pretty town of Cashel, dominated, of course, by the Rock of Cashel.

Built atop a mound of limestone rock that rises dramatically from the Tipperary plain are the ruins of five ecclesiastical buildings. Associated with the High Kings of Munster since the 4th century as a defensive fortress and a place of coronation and ceremony, the rock first became associated with Christianity in 450 AD with the conversion of the Munster king Aenghus by St. Patrick. In 1101, another High King of Munster gifted the land to the Church.

The oldest building on the site is the round tower, build around 1100 AD.

The second oldest building, begun in 1127, is Cormac’s chapel. It was built in the Hiberno-Romanesque style with rounded arches and painted frescoes. Unlike the other buildings which are made of limestone, Cormac’s chapel was built with sandstone which erodes more easily. The scaffolding on site has been in place to act as weatherproofing for the chapel during its repair, restoration, and protection from further damage by weathering.

The next building on site is the large St. Patrick’s Cathedral, built between 1235 and 1270 in the gothic style with high windows and pointed arches.

In the next photo, the tower is on the left, the cathedral in the center, and to the right of the cathedral is part of the remains of a residential castle built for the archbishops.

During a storm sometime in the mid 1800s, after the site had already been abandoned, this large piece of tower fell from the bishops castle onto the ground below. Thunk!

Here are a few other photos from around the site, and of the surrounding countryside.

And here is a collage of celtic designs carved on lichen-covered crosses in the cementary.

I spent quite a long time on the rock. There was an excellent, free guided tour as well as a film, both of which gave alot of historical context to the site. One visitor asked about the modern dates she had seen on some of the gravestones and the guide said that, when the site was given over to the state and deconsecrated in the 1930s, no more burials were to take place. But, the people of the town of Cashel were unhappy about that and negotiated the creation of a registry of their names, and their childrens’ names, whereby persons on the registry had the right to be buried on the rock. The guide added that there are currently only 3 names left on the registry, and so there will be only three more burials on the Rock of Cashel.

After my visit to the Rock of Cashel, I headed down the hill towards the ruins of Hore Abbey, a 12th century Cisctercian monastery which sits abandonded in a field below the Rock of Cashel, surrounded, on the day I visited, by grazing Irish cattle.

Henry the Eight ordered the dissolution of all the Catholic monasteries in his realm when he made himself the head of the Church of England in the 1530s. He rather conveniently confiscated their considerable lands, wealth, and treasures, and ordered that their buildings be ruined.

Here are just a few photos of Hore Abbey. I really like the first one which is of the center of a high vaulted ceiling. I had a quiet time sitting on one of the cloister walls as the rain came and chased away the few others visitors who were there.

Another day filled with history in ancient and beautiful Ireland!

An Spinc and Glenealo Hike – Truly Exceptional!

I had planned for two nights at Glendalough hostel in order to have a rest day after my Wicklow Way walk. But, on that “rest”day, I was still in the mood for walking so I decided on the 9 km, 380 m elevation gain, “Spinc and Glenealo Hike”. I am so glad that I choose this hike – it was spectacular!

The first kilometer to get to the trailhead was lovely and flat along the green road, past the lower lake, and on towards the upper lake. Rain had fallen overnight, and it was overcast and cool. It was also early when I set out, and there was no-one about. A huge contrast to the heat and the busy summer crowds of the previous day!

The route started to climb along a forest road beside the pretty Poulnass waterfall…

and soon zigzagged steeply up the road for a few switchbacks until the trail literally cut through the forest, somewhat spookily, as a series of timber stairs that would eventually number more than 600!

So I started climbing, and was soon wondering if perhaps I should have stayed in bed instead! But, all of that steady stair climbing resulted in the trail emerging from the forest high up on the mountainside, to reveal this view looking back towards the lower lake, and the beginning of the upper lake.

The views stayed marvelously open as the trail continued on boardwalk higher up the cliffs and towards the Glenealo valley and the headwaters of the upper lake.

Closer and closer to the highest point of the hike, “An Spinc”, which literally means “pointed hill”. Up until this point I had not seen one other hiker, but then looking way down below across the lake, I could see several small groups of walkers heading up the valley on the other side.

In the photo below you can clearly see the trail zigzagging down the opposite side of the valley from the pass. The white areas are tailings from lead, zinc and silver mines which operated in this valley for 150 years, beginning in the 1790s.

Looking back from where I’ve come. The upper lake is surprisingly long!

Then the boardwalk started to descend over blanket bog and heath.

The trail description had said that a large herd of deer are often seen here, and sure enough I saw several groupings of deer both above and below me. Most marvelously, I sat and watched a fawn drink milk from its mother! I need to figure out how to magnify the image below! The pair are just inside the upper right quadrant of the photo.

The boardwalk continued downwards…

until it finally ended and I was on a rough track heading towards the bridge over the river, trying to get there ahead of the encroaching mist and clouds.

This is the view from on the bridge, looking down the valley.

And now I’m on the other side, looking back at the bridge. Such an exciting place to be! So far, I’d only passed two other hikers, heading the opposite way, but as I made my descent, more and more hikers came up the valley towards me.

Here’s a good view, on the right, of An Spinc, the highest point reached by the trail.

The descent was very fun as it paralleled the boulder-strewn river.

A hiker travelling in the opposite direction kindly took my picture.

Still a ways to go! On some parts of the descent, there was almost a rough pavement of stones, perhaps made by the miners.

As I reached the large area of tailings, after skirting an enormous boulder field, the trail had finally levelled off, and the 3 or 4 km return alongside the upper lake along the miners road was flat, easy, and picturesque.

What a wonderful hike that was!

After a rest in the hostel, I walked through the monastic settlement once again, so happy that I had come to beautiful Glendalough!