Goodbye to Beautiful, Sunny Ireland

As you tell, it's time to move on.  Tomorrow, I'm flying to Athens, on the way to Albania and other places that I haven't quite organised yet.  So it's goodbye to Ireland and, unfortunately, Guinness.  But also hopefully it is hello to slightly cheaper travel, good wine, great food and some exciting adventures.  It HAS been quite expensive here.  Next time you look at our fuel prices, spare a thought for Ireland who are paying nearly double.  Food is dear, eating out is very expensive and the only bright spot has been the price of a pint ... cheap!  So I guess I can see where the priorities lie.

After finishing the walk, Merran and I decided to be tourists.  We jumped on buses here, there and everywhere and ended up in some lovely places.  The first was Cobh (pronounced Cove) where, I kid you not, they have a different cruise ship visit EVERY DAY from April to October!!!  And they are enormous!  Luckily, most the passengers get put on bus tours but there are still hundreds that descend on the town everyday.  Aaaahhhh!

OMG!  That's what I call a financial deterrent!

Cobh was the last port of the Titanic before it hit its iceberg (it used to be called Queenstown then) and we did a very good tour of the White Star Line offices.  My god! that ship was huge (but not as big as the cruise ship on the second day)!  The town is also famous for its terraces of prettily painted cottages as well as a gorgeous cathedral.  It was a very pleasant place to stay (especially once the cruise people had gone) and we were even coping with the very steep streets.  But time to move on ...

We have become adept at finding the local pub for local people - The Rob Roy

Told you it was big!

Our next village experience was Wicklow.  Now, this was very different - there wasn't a tourist shop in sight!  It seemed just a lovely quiet normal place ... apart from the fact that there were more barbers and hairdressers and butchers than I have ever seen before in a small main street.  I looked but I couldn't say that the people of Wicklow seemed more coiffed than others and perhaps they are all on the carnivore diet.  It remains a puzzle.

Enjoying a drink in the sun, Bridge Inn

We joined a free heritage walking tour one morning.  Our guides, Jim and John (got to keep it simple for you folks) were a class act!  They knew their stuff, had a very amusing patter and bounced off each other ("alluded, now there's a big word for you, John" says Jim.  "Aah, but you were always one for the big words, Jim.  Must be all that Latin you learned in school" replies John).  We walked around the port, up to the Black Castle ruins, past the goal and back into town.  It was fascinating learning about Wicklow's past and were entertained at the same time.  The 90 minutes flew by.  

Pat the postman (no ... no joke) has been painting murals of ships and boats on the walls of the pier since 1976.  They were quite amazing, especially considering the awful surface of the walls.

The next day, we went to Glendalough.  Now, I went there in 2000, staying in the youth hostel and doing some walks around the area, but my memories had faded.  Once we got there, I once again fell under the spell of the unusual ruins, tall tower and delightful surroundings.  Despite the busloads of tourists, we enjoyed our time walking around.

The door of the tower was 12 feet above the ground so that the monks could escape attackers by climbing into the tower and pulling the ladder up.

But all good things come to an end and it was time for Merran to go home.  I was a bit melancholy at the thought of her leaving - it is so pleasant to be able to say "look at that ..." and not just be talking to yourself.  And the adage 'two heads are better than one' certainly applies to decision making when traveling.  However, time to fly solo ... 

Bizarre!  It made both of us feel slightly nauseous

... so I jumped on a bus and came to Skerries.  Now, Skerries isn't that far from Dublin (just a bit north along the coast) but it took only minutes before I was traveling through countryside.  The town itself is quite lovely ... it is stretched around the coastline, with sandy beaches and black jagged rocks.  At the harbour itself, there are Martello towers as well as an island where Saint Patrick stayed after the people of Wicklow chucked him out.  He stayed until the villagers from Skerries rowed across and took his goat and ate it.  Hmmm.

My AirBnB host, Mark, dropped me to Ardgellan Castle this morning (I think he was feeling a bit guilty that he was leaving for work and won't be back until after I've gone tomorrow!).  I walked around the beautiful gardens for a while and then went and explored more of the town of Skerries, eventually finding an amazing pub (no food and cash only) where I have had my last Guinness.  Slowly.  Savouring it.  Slowly.  I don't think there's Guinness in Albania.

The ice house

My new local, the Gladstone Inn