August 21st, 2007

Dublin - The Short Course

To sleep in a hotel instead of the insomnia generating Hostels of West Ireland was a great respite. Finally crawling out of bed around noon, I would put the comment, “Dublin can be seen in a day” to the test in half the time.

Venturing out in the dappled sunlight of the early afternoon, I cut across St. Stephen’s Green, a park complete with gardens...



... and constructed ponds.



Walking Grafton Street gave the feeling of so many European shopping districts. Cobble stone streets, lined with older buildings converted into trendy shopping outlets.



Peeking down a side street gave view to a classic church front.



Grafton Street tines into the fork of College Green, eventually blending into Westmoreland Street. At this intersection and across the street from the Bank of Ireland building is the entrance to Trinity College, founded in 1592 by Queen Elizabeth.



Although a historic institution, Trinity College is most known for its library holding every English and Irish published and copy written document since 1801. Eight buildings house more than three million volumes. Impressive in scope, still an endless line of visitors make the trek to Trinity College to view one particular volume, The Book of Kells.



The Book of Kells is actually a religious teaching document of the Four Gospels. What makes it so precious is that every page is covered in illuminated script or intricate depictions, often painted in gold. The Book of Kells was produced over one thousand years ago and has survived Viking conquests that left sixty-eight monks dead. The book eventually found a home in Dublin where it could be more aptly protected. (No pictures were permitted, so the picture below like the one above of the library, was taken of a display piece.) Examples of the style and type of illustrations line the bottom of this brochure.



Leaving the library there was a quick reminder that Trinity College is an actual educational institution and not only a relic repository. The local students were springing around the porches and walls of the old buildings trying to replicate the latest craze of dominating an urban obstacle course.



Safely after 2:00pm, I was a little beyond hungry and headed straight for the Temple Bar District that houses a huge variety of local and international eateries.



Kristen had suggested the locally famous Elephant and Castle Restaurant and the requisite Elephant burger, which is actually beef and topped with barely braised bacon and a curie/mayo sauce. The burger and a Coke Light will run you about twenty-two USD plus tip. Good, but not “that” good.



The final lap of the Dublin tour was a walk along the Liffey, on a single riverbank road with no fewer than five name changes on this stretch of pavement. The river is spanned by several bridges of varying sizes and ornamentation.



The sky was mixed and threatening upstream,



... in contrast to the breaking blue skies down river.



Walking the left bank, making a left turn and heading up hill under the Christchurch Cathedral Arch...



... brought me to St. James Gate and the Guinness Brewery and Storehouse.



The multi-block complex is filled with history. Arthur Guinness was so certain that his brewing formulation would be a success that he risked his entire 100 British Pound inheritance in 1759 to lease the existing and dormant St. James Gate Brewery for 9,000 years at a sum of 45 Pounds per year. The other historic date in the Guinness Company’s history was when it was decided to only brew a new form of popular darker brew named after the primary consumers in London, the porter.



The Guinness Company purchases two-thirds of all the barley grown in Ireland each year or approximately 100,000 tons. The roasted over abundance of roasted barley is what gives Guinness its trademark color and flavor, along with the "classic" secret ingredient process. (Two resting pints, waiting to settle and form a creamy head prior to topping. A good pour takes more than five minutes.)



Atop the brewery is the Gravity Bar that provides a dramatic 360 degree of the city.



The evening sunset brought a dramatic view of the Wellington Monument – built in memory of the Duke of Wellington who defeated Napoleon in the Battle of Waterloo. The green space behind the obelisk is Phoenix Park, the largest city park in Europe covering 1,760 acres.



The Guinness plant dominates and but somehow blends right into this working class neighborhood.



With the meandering streets of Dublin, the brewery was out of sight in only a few short blocks, as street after curving street of row houses channeled me back to the hotel.





I could tell that St. James Green was getting closer because the buildings were gaining elevation and then finally I was home.

August 20th, 2007

Galway to Dublin

I woke to a great surprise, the sun was shining brightly and there was only one thing left to do before leaving for Dublin, laundry. Laundry is the hidden obstacle course of traveling. Fortunately, there was a Laundrette a short walk from the hostel.



The laundry process is seemingly different in every country. In this particular case, roughly ten USD will provide you with a washing machine that you are free to load, then the laundry manager puts the powder and a token in the machine. This then frees you to do as you wish for a half-hour. My choice was one final walk around town.



Eyre Square looked crisp in the bright sunshine. There is a blend of contemporary design and traditional architecture. This may be epitomized by the jagged edged fountain, in front of row houses.



The row of traditional Irish clan names and their crest flags was a great recent addition to the north side of the square.



The city street plan for the old town of Galway is typical, without a straight street in sight, which makes for really interesting and carefully directed walks.



Looking down at the coble stones I noticed that even the utility street covers are a forged piece of work.



After an hour of lukewarm clothes drying, they were near enough to dry to fold and start the drive to Dublin. When the locals learned of my drive plans there was a consistent gutteral sigh of pity. On a good day the drive can be accomplished in around four hours. But, with construction at full tilt the roads were sure to be clogged with traffic, resulting in an afternoon filled with five and a half hours of clutch work.



Five thirty brought the city limits and a debate, “Can I find the hotel, drop my bags, and return the car before 7:00pm?” What the heck… go for it! The trick of Dublin is that you can simply forget about major roads entering the city loop and absolutely none of them are straight. My rental car map, that conveniently omitted many of the streets, was exceptionally impotent as well. Then to make things a little more interesting, the street names change by block in many occasions. So, if you have the address, life is not as simple as finding the street name and then following the numbers through the blocks until eventually meeting your destination.



In this case I knew the hotel was near St. Stephens Green, a one square block city park that has no less than nine street entry points. The plan was to find the Liffey River, then follow along the banks on Wolfe Tome Quay, Ellis Quay, Arran Quay, Inns Quay, Ormond Quay, Bachelors Walk, Eden Quay, etc., until finding the port and turning right. At this point I had no clue about the constant street name changes and the labrinth of one-way streets.



After fumbling around town and after the charm of exploration had worn off I pulled along side a motorcycle police officer and asked directions. The good news was we were positioned less than 400 meters from the hotel’s front door. The challenge was that there were no less than four turns to be executed and two one-way streets to successfully cross navigate before turning. Success.

Armed with the Door Man’s advice and a detailed city map, the fun of exploring the city returned. In spite of rush hour traffic the airport rental lot was only forty-five minutes away. The return was even easier. One Euro and ninety cents and the A16 bus swung through downtown, dropping me off at Cuffe Street with only a two-block walk remaining.

August 19th, 2007

Cliffs of Moher

Finally, the sun or at least glimpses came out and could be appreciated. Even the cormorants we excited to dry their wings in the speckled sun patches.



Armed with a map and a tourist brochure of a bus route The Burren area would be my touring destination today. Of course, I got a little lost in the streets of Oranmore and ended up on someone’s private estate and farmland. These mistakes are actually pretty welcome in Ireland because there is typically something worthwhile along the way, like this old estate building.



Back on track, the road skims along the coastline to Kinvara, a literal town. It seems that the local population hasn’t grown since these little towns were first constructed.



Kinevara is a very tidy little burg complete with harbor and Dunguaire Castle.



At Ballyvaughn there is a “T” fork in the road that can be easily confused with a bend in the main road that heads left. By now my directional radar was screaming that the single-track branch to the right was really the proper path and it was. Through town and along the coast the paved road is only one and a half car widths, even though it is center striped. If a bus comes, forget about it, you are in the weeds.



Blackhead point and the shore near the town of Doolin are very similar to Monterey, California.





There is even a surf school and legions of surfers eager to suit-up to chase the cold water “ankle bangers”.



Wandering along the coastline, I saw a turret with a car parked in front and thought, "Wow, that would be a great place for a view. I wonder how much the entrance fee is to climb the tower?" Driving closer, the realization struck that the answer was "Way more than I could afford." The old castle was a private residence and the car in front was the owner's. Nice digs...



There is a species of plant that is currently setting the roadside on fire. These deeply colored flowering grasses line many of the roads and in the little town of Doolin make for a fun picture with the local wandering pooch.



The prime attraction in The Burren Region is the Cliffs of Moher. Picture the Marin Headlands with a flat top or better yet the bluffs of the Mississippi outside of Alton, Illinois are a fair comparison.





The town, bridge, and beach of Usdoonvarna would be a great place to spend a day. There are many places to eat and shops to stroll through on the main street.



The beaches are broad and the shallow water looked fun for kids.



But, my favorite site was this old stone bridge as you enter town.



The last site of the day and the hardest to find was Poulnabrone Dolmen, a 5,000 year old megalithic burial tomb. To get there one must travel the narrowest roads yet and hope that everyone is going in the same direction. The upside is views of truly ancient farmlands. Some of the stone boundary walls in the area date back over three thousand years.



Poulnabrone Dolmen is one of many stone “round fort” archeological locations in the Burren area. What makes this particular site so interesting is that the main burial tomb is still in reasonable tact. This style of burial is called a “Portal Tomb”, as it marked the passage from one world to the next. Originally the portal door would have been buried under an earth cairn mound. Over the millennia erosion and weathering have exposed the entrance. Carbon dating of those buried in the tomb dates the site to between 4,200 and 2,900 B.C. or the Neolithic Age. The docent of the park mentioned that this part of Ireland is an archeologist’s dream, with over 500 known pre-historic round fort settlements.

August 18th, 2007

Connemara Region

The day started with high hopes and a break in the clouds. Heading back to the mainland the skies actually shone through with a little blue. After a real soaker yesterday, I was ready for the sun.



The territory north of Rossaveal is bog land. The ample rain provides lakes and streams, seemingly at every turn.



They are more black than blue and the streams foam a cappuccino froth color.



The earth is so rich with nutrients that when cut it is coal black.



Local bog cutters stripe the land with gouges into the thick rich layers. Once the peat is cut from the ground it is stacked for drying.



Once dehydrated, teams of men throw the chunks into a tractor bed.



Since peat is a source of fuel it is not surprising that the dried vegetation layer feels an awful lot like very light wood. Foot long sections weigh less than a pound each. In the last one hundred years the combination of overgrazing by livestock and harvesting have reduced the producing peat bog area to only 40% of the original acreage.



Peat is not a renewable resource, as it takes tens of thousands of years to build. The original organic material was from pine and deciduous forests combined with ground cover. The forests have long been harvested to extinction and the remaining ferns and grasses protect the underlying peat. What creates the burnable fuel, counter intuitively, is water. The heavy rains keep the soil and composite organic material moist, which retards decomposition. So the generational layers of plant matter pile one on top of the other, creating weight to compress and pack the lower level organics into a waiting fuel source.

The remaining threats to the existing bog ecosystems are obviously harvesting and not so obviously grazing. When farm animals eat the final cover layer of vegetation, then the soil is vulnerable to evaporation and with that organic decomposition begins.

Enough with the bog facts, Clifden was the first town across the miles of narrow country road. The directional signage in Ireland is minimally instructive at best and mostly obscured by a visual labyrinth of Bed & Breakfast and Restaurant signs crowding out the one needed direction sign. The other challenge in driving in Ireland is that every road is a paved horse path, so the size of the surface has relatively no bearing as to its importance. You could just as easily be on a recognized road as on an extended side road to nowhere. In my case, nowhere was the harbor entrance for Clifden and an eventual dead end into the lifeboat station.



Actually, there were no complaints from me. I was almost literally dead tired, so pulled into the five-space gravel car park and was asleep in almost moments. Two and a half hours later and I awoke to a hallucinating reality. I literally had no idea where I could be and was searching the car for someone. Youth Hostel sleep deprivation, combined with jet lag, dehydration, and a now unbelievably hot car had all combined to create my disturbing awakening. The good news was that the sun was shining brightly and once the seal of the car was broken my head began to clear.

So, I headed to Connemara National Park and what appears to be the highest hill/mountain in the area at a whopping 721 meters.



Longing for a good stretch of the legs Benbough was actually a reasonable challenge. The climb itself was little more than a simple “walk up” but the wind was the strongest I’ve ever experienced.



The gusts were literally strong enough to change the course of individual strides. Clothes were plastered to windward and luffing loudly to leeward. At one point I simply leaned forward into the wind and it held me in place. Working my way around the mountain, with the wind now to my back, it literally blew me uphill. Crazy…



A couple of nice surprises along the national park trails were a colt and mare from the prized Connemara herd...



... and this cute little guy (by the Visitors Center) who thought it was just about the perfect time to stop and play with stones instead of trudging on.



Just as I was getting ready to head to the car park, the skies cleared just enough for a clear view of the summit.



The stretch home brought me by the beautiful Kylemore lakeside Abbey. Ireland is great for surprises this way, as a beautiful lake or building may be hiding around almost any curve.



The clouds regained their strength and thickened on the winding path back to Galway.



Still lacking enough sleep reserves the hostel was a welcome site.



My continuing challenge is that “it is August in Europe” and that means hoards of partying vacationers. I slept great from one to three-thirty in the morning and then the revelers starting making their uncoordinated, boisterous, bunk bed rattling, staggered migration back to the dorm room.



Once settled into bed the chorus of wheezing nicotine saturated snoring insured that restful sleep was now finished for the night.

New Posts - Ireland and More

Hello Family and Friends,

It is funny that traveling once again has given me the time and dedication to get back to blogging. I loved seeing many of you while home in Michigan/California and spending time together just seemed the better use of time than blogging.
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So now that the world is once again my home there is more time and impetus to keep you informed. "Thank you" to so many of you who "bugged" me to get going again. It is great to know that you all are reading or at least looking at the pictures from the blog.

Along the way, I will catch up, filling in missing pieces, and will let you know the timing of the posts. For instance, a weekend climbing Mt. Shasta was just published along with a day of Ireland travels. Fortunately for this one (Mt. Shasta) you will only have to venture back about three entries to find the pics and story. When filling in later entries, I'll give you the date to search for in this "splash page".

Cheers,
Paul


(Many Summer "fish stories" to come.)