Ireland A Seacht

I have returned to Dublin after spending the last month traveling the west and south coasts of Ireland. Along the way I met a few characters, saw a few sights and tried to soak up all the country had to offer.

My first stop was Bundoran, in County Donegal. I picked up a bed at the Bundoran Surf Co Lodge and besides a few hardcore Portuguese surfers, the place was empty. The staff there were great and hooked me up with everything a wannabe surfer could ask for - spankin' new wetsuit, booties, board, lesson, sunshine and rides to the beach and back. After my first day I went to bed thinking I could easily do that everyday. I woke up the next morning to gray skies, pouring rain, wind and 10 degree seas. It was a perfect day for a surf. Why? Because if you wait for good weather in Ireland, you'll never get anything done. The Atlantic ocean worked me over and came close to breaking me but at the end of the day it was Hennigan - 1. Atlantic Ocean - 0.

Two days in quiet Bundoran and it was time to move on. A couple bus rides and I was in the small village of Strandhill, just outside Sligo. Surfing was on the menu again, along with a hike up Knocknarea and a visit to Killaspugbrone Church and Cemetary, where it is said that St. Patrick tripped and lost a tooth. I made the trek up Knocknarea with a German couple - Sonja and Bertram, who were in Strandhill celebrating an anniversary of sorts. It's a very imposing "hill" that , on its summit, is home to a huge cairn (pile of stones), said to conceal a Neolithic passage tomb. A rare blue sky made the walk up even more worth while. As for St. P's tooth, no sign of it but the small graveyard and remains of a church were a sight to see.

From Strandhill I headed for Westport where I checked into an (empty) 18 bed dorm room. Three highlights to note:

1. Riding a bike out to Croagh Patrick but failing to climb it due to the weather (blaming it on the weather is a weak excuse!). 
2. The live, traditional music, song, story and joke at Matt Molloy's pub. I could listen to an Irish ol' timer tell stories all night long.
3. Meeting Pip, the "Fanny Trekker". This last one requires an explanation so here it is... 

As I walked into my dorm room, I met a guy from California. As he introduced himself I noticed he was traveling light; I could see no backback or suitcase near his bunk. I asked him what the deal was and it was at that point that I was introduced to "Fanny Trekking". That's right, "Pip" was traveling with nothing more than a fanny pack. A FANNY PACK. He wasn't a tree-hugging hippy or some sort of new-age minimalist (if there is such a thing), infact, he was more of a beer-chugging redneck who didn't think he needed much more than the clothes on his back and a toothbrush. I asked him all the questions you are thinking about right now and he had an answer for each and every one. Pip claims a backpack causes you to stand out... unlike a fanny pack and cowboy boots. To each his own! Here's his blog - fannytrekking.blogspot.com

Unsure of where to go next, I jumped on a bus to Galway. Once I arrived, I knew I didn't want to stay but didn't have a plan so, two minutes later, I climbed back onto a different bus headed for Ennis. Although I had been there before and there's really not much going on, I headed to Ennis because of the Rowan Tree hostel. It's the Burj Al Arab of hostels. As I was walking into town from the bus station, an ol' timer outside of a church stopped me, asked me where I was from and gave me a heart-felt "welcome to Ennis, we're happy to have ya, enjoy your time here". Made me think that I need to work on my greeting skills.

While in Ennis, I picked up a book - "Unsung Hero | Tom Crean - Antarctic Survivor". It was quiet on the west coast and I need something to kill time with. I had first seen the face on the cover of this book as a painting, hanging on the wall of Groggans pub in Dublin. After reading only a few pages, I knew I would be paying a visit to Tom's home town of Anascaul. More on this guy later.

Next stop, Lahinch. Lahinch is great for two things - surfing and nightlife. I focused on the first. On one typically poor day (wind and rain), I counted 60+ people, of all ages and abilities, surfing, kite-surfing and kayaking. Hardcore. On one of the nicer days, I decided to walk to the Cliffs of Mohr. You may recognize these cliffs as the "Cliffs of Insanity" from the Princess Bride movie. I passed the "Please do not go beyond this point" sign, and walked the entire length of the cliffs. Some sections of the path were a little wonky (hence the sign) but the views are worth a potential 400 foot fall. By the time I got back to Lahinch, it was time for a pint. Hey, how about a video about surfing AND the Cliffs of Mohr? Check it out:

Back to Ennis! Stuck around for a few more days, did some laundry, finished my book and then set out for the harbor town of Dingle. Dingle just so happens to be located on the Dingle Peninsula in County Kerry. I Rented a bike, packed a lunch and set off for a day of cycling "the ring". Stopped in at Dunberg Fort, Coumeennole Beach, Kilmalkedar Church and a hundred other places that needed to have their picture taken. This area is an absolute must see if you come to Ireland.

The next day I was keen on heading to Annascaul, home to the legendary Antarctic explorer, Tom Crean. Instead of waiting for a bus, I gave hitchhiking a shot for the first time in my life. I'm not the type to just sit in one spot and wait for a ride so I started the 18 km trek on foot. After hoofin' it for an hour along the narrow, shoulder-less N86, I set down my backpack to have a drink of water. A car pulled over. At first I wasn't sure if they had pulled over for me or for some other reason so I went up to the window to find out. Bingo, I had a ride. I told him I was headed to Annascaul to have a pint in the the South Pole Inn. Turns out the man behind the wheel was born in Ireland, lived the majority of his life in the US and returned to Annascaul to (semi) retire. Before dropping me off at the pub, he took me up to the cemetery where Crean, and his family, are buried. Here's a very brief overview of the man:

Tom Crean was born 20 July 1877, in the farming area of Gurtuchrane near the town of Annascaul in County Kerry. He spent more than half of his life in the British Navy and played a vital part in several expeditions to the Antarctic under both Scott and Shackleton. After retiring from the naval service, Crean returned to his home town to set up what is now the "South Pole Inn". From what I can tell, he was the type of guy who just got the job done - no complaining, pulled his own weight (and more) and put the well being of others before himself. More info.

A had a few hot whiskeys at the Inn before setting off for Inch Strand. After my initial hitchhiking success, I thought I would try it again. I started walking out of town and throwing out the "thumb" but wasn't getting any takers. I stopped at a small grocery story to make sure I was heading the right direction; I was not. In a very thick Irish accent, she told me to follow the dirt road that ran behind her store and up through the hills. "Go straight down the dirt road and when you think you should turn right, don't, keep going straight." That was it. Who was I to question her knowledge of the area? I reluctantly started walking up the dirt road until I came to a spot where the dirt road went off to the right and a muddy old footpath continued strait on. I thought to myself that I should definitely follow the road off to the right so I wouldn't get lost but then I remembered my instructions. This must have been the point the lady was referring to. I went straight up the foot path which slowly turned into little more than an overgrown escape route for rain coming down the hills. As a came around a bend, the path opened up and there was an ol' timer fixing a stone wall. I was the last person he expected to see there. I asked him if I was getting close to Inch and he said "keep walking, when you hit a road, turn left". Done! It was now starting to rain so I picked up the pace. It wasn't long before I hit the road and could see down the other side of the hills to what had to be Inch. There, I put in a day of surfing before heading back to Annascaul to catch a bus to Kinsale.

Kinsale is another picturesque little Harbor town. After walking in circles for a while, I found my sign-less hostel. "Hostel" may be the wrong word. It was more like some dude's house and he decided to let strangers stay over now and then. No complaints though, it had a bed and hot water. As is the norm, I rented a bike and spent a day checking out the town and surrounding area. The town itself is built for postcards and there are obviously a few well-to-do types who call it home. I stuck around for a few days and then headed for Cork where I decided on my next stop.

I made my way to Cobh on the recommendation of another traveler. Cobh is famous for being the last port of call of the Titanic, which anchored at the mouth of the harbor on April 11th 1912. There were no hostels in town so I popped for a hotel room. The only good thing about a hotel room is I can come out of the shower naked. I am struggling to write anything more about my time in Cobh. To be honest, I couldn't wait to leave, which I did, first thing in the morning. I killed a few hours in Cork while I waited for my buss to Kilkenny.

The 400 year old castle town of Kilkenny ended up being the final stop on my trip. I timed it right as The Cat Laughs 2011 Comedy Festival was on and the sun was out (more sun then I had ever seen before in Ireland). Highlight of the weekend - seeing the one and only Rubberbandits, live. They are a true gift to the Irish music scene. Met some cool people while I was there, including a Canadian guy that ended up giving me a lift back to Dublin. Good kid.

I had started my travels thinking I would work on the west coast but I didn't want to stay in one place long enough to make it happen. Near the end, I was actually starting to miss Dublin. So, I signed up for another month at Storm and moved back in with Rachael. It's almost like I had never left.