We slept round the clock, waking about 8:00 am. It took me a while to figure out how to start the shower, since the process included pulling the safety cord outside of the shower stall. While Jack showered, I tried to figure out what I would need that day, so it would be accessible in the car. Between my riding gear and Jack’s golf clubs, we didn’t have a lot of room to maneuver once we loaded the luggage.
When I went out to the breakfast room, looking for coffee, the landlady asked me if we wanted the full Irish breakfast. I said sure, not realizing how much food you get with a full Irish breakfast. To start, juice, fruit and cereal seem to be set out as a standard. Then you get eggs, bacon (not the standard we get in the US, but something closer to what we call Canadian bacon), sausages, white and black pudding, potatoes, grilled tomatoes, and one or two types of bread or toast. After the first day, I always asked for a subset, since I wanted to be able to eat more than one meal a day without feeling guilty. The food was excellent, except for instant coffee and the sausages. I discovered that I don’t like Irish sausages any more than I like Australian or English ones.
Stuffed, we left the Hillside Lodge B&B about 9:30 or so. As we loaded our car, we saw a rainbow to the east. I had not expected the story book countryside that surrounded us. Although Mayo may be a tough place to farm, it is extravagantly green and beautiful, at least in the parts we saw. We decided to head back into Westport, since we hadn’t seen the town center the day before.
Westport has won lots of Tidy Town Awards, and in the morning sun it gleamed. I found a parking place near the shopping district, and parallel parked, sort of. (Finding parking places was fraught, because the Irish have a different set of rules, and we were never quite sure that we had found a legal place.) We wandered around for awhile, taking photos, and then found a small cafe where we got tea and coffee (brewed, fortunately). It was part of a grocery store, so we picked up some stuff to make a picnic lunch. We found a bookstore, and bought Pratchett’s Wintersmith as well as a good map of Ireland, one recommended by the bookseller.
We drove to Murrisk (Muraisc in Irish) and parked at the bottom of Croagh (pronounced “crow”) Patrick. Croagh Patrick is a popular pilgrimage: a place where Saint Patrick was supposed to have spent forty days in retreat. As a penance, some people climb to the top barefoot. Since the path up resembles a stream bed (complete with running water) more than a traditional mountain path, this would be a impressive feat. We climbed to the statue, but the treacherous footing made me reluctant to climb any further, since spraining my ankle the second day in Ireland seemed like a bad idea.
The view of the bay from even the foot of Croagh Patrick was beautiful, and I was amazed by the fuchsia hedges on the side of the path. We had a few showers while we climbed, but they usually stopped soon after we put up our umbrellas.
After our climb, we decided to cross the road and look at the National Famine Monument, dedicated to the victims of the Potato Famine of 1845-1849. The monument is an abstract representation of a coffin ship, complete with skeletons. (Jack’s grandparents immigrated from Ireland to Mayo in the 1920’s: the economy in Mayo never really recovered from the famine.) From there, we wandered to the ruin of Murrisk Abbey, which is still used as a graveyard.
We were surprised to find that we had spent nearly three hours wandering around Murrisk when we got back the car. We drove a little further west along Clew Bay, and then turned around and headed back to Westport and Castlebar since we had reservations at a B&B near Bushmills in County Antrim in Northern Ireland. We had spent enough time on our feet that I was glad to get back on the road.
Traveling north, we drove through Sligo, Leitrim, Donegal and Derry. The only way to tell that we had crossed into Northern Ireland was that the prices on the gas stations changed from Euros to Sterling, and the route numbers used the A prefix instead of the N prefix. (We were told later by Jack’s cousin that one used to be able to tell because the northern roads were so much better, but we didn’t see much difference.) On our trip, we crossed several small mountain ranges, and I was surprised how rugged some of the countryside appeared, especially in Leitrim and Donegal.
Despite what seemed to be a very slow trip, in which every road seemed to be under construction, we made it to Spring Farm B&B by about 7:00 pm. Spring Farm B&B was on a working farm, and we could hear the cows lowing when we got out the car, and even a faint sound of surf from the shore about a mile or so away. Since we would be spending two nights at Spring Farm, I was happy to see that the room was larger than the Westport B&B, as was the small bathroom. We quickly unpacked and went to one of the landlady’s recommended restaurant, the Smugglers Inn. It had a rather Pirates of the Caribbean decorating theme, but the food was good, if expensive.
On the way back to the B&B, we stopped in Lisnegunogue, at a pub which did not, on first inspection, appear to be open. Jack went into check, and was invited in by the Publican. There was one old guy who looked like he was surgically attached to his chair, and the publican and his small family. Jack and I had a pint while we chatted with the landlord. After we finished, Jack ran me back t the B&B, which was only a kilometer or so away. As we drove along, I told Jack, “Well, I understood about one word in three, how about you?” “Oh, about one word in two.” Despite this, Jack headed back to the pub. I read a little from Wintersmith, and barely awoke when Jack came back in the room.
Written Monday 2006-11-06
Elaine,
I really enjoyed reading your travel reminiscence. I will look forward to reading more.