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May 30, 2000
In our last conversation three weeks ago we were in northern Wales, and I have some catching
up to do.
After leaving Tywyn, I took six different buses to get to Pembroke which is a county in South Wales where I did
some incredible backpacking. In that area, there's Pembrokeshire Coast National Park, a 186-mile-long coastal trail
that is just flat out epic! I'd heard it was worth checking out, but was absolutely blown away when I got there.
Let me just say here and now that Wales is highly underrated as a travel destination. It's remarkably beautiful
and not overrun by tour buses; in fact I saw not a single one there! Plus, there's a rich and interesting culture.
The coastal trail follows along the top of cliffs as high as 700 feet that plunge spectacularly into the sea. Blue,
yellow, purple and white flowers are everywhere, along with the ever-present stone fences and grazing sheep and
cows. Often at the base of the cliffs are stacks off massive boulders or huge piles of shale that create unique
little islands that are sometimes become covered by 28-foot high tides. I would sit and watch the seascape change
as the day would wane, and boats would come by and pick up their lobster traps, birds would soar and dive, and
the lichen on the rocks would sparkle and change its hue as the sun moved across the sky. In some areas, sea lions
and dolphins hung out.
As I did a three-day hike, I camped twice where streams carved their way into small coves, and I listened to the
wonderful continual song of water both flowing and crashing onto the rocks while the birds called out from above.
The mossy carpet of grass was so thick that it was like falling asleep on bales of cotton. One of the coves had
a cave about thirty feet deep, echoing the sounds of the surf back out to me.
On the 15th of May, I decided to head for Ireland (Eire). So I caught a bus from St. David's for Fishguard in order
to then take the ninety-minute, 54-mile long ferry ride across the Irish Sea to Rosslare. I had no idea where I
would end up that night. As I grabbed my bag to exit the bus in Fishguard I literally bumped into Jean O'Donovan
who'd been surfing that weekend in Wales and was headed home to Cork. As we were both heading for the ferry, we
walked and talked, and then rode and talked, until we stepped on Irish soil, and she then suggested I stay at her
house.
Jean is a red haired, green-eyed little Irish fireball who stepped into my life at the perfect time, as so often
happens to me these days... especially when I don't plan. Since she is a travel agent, she filled me in on the
history of Ireland, where to go and not go, and taught me essential phrases in Irish (Gaelic), which she speaks
fluently (along with French and a little Arabic). By the time we got off the bus in Cork, we both knew we would
be friends for life.
From Cork, I took the bus to Dingle in county Kerry in the southwest of the country, where I spent four days. Dingle
combines exceptional natural beauty with major craic (pronounced "crack" and meaning good time). In Dingle,
I initiated my stays in hostels on the islands, which gave me the opportunity to add an additional element to my
traveling - meeting other travelers en masse. I find travelers to be just about the most interesting people on
the planet and the array of talented and exceptional companions I found throughout Western Ireland was a great
gift to me.
For instance, there's Jurgen, a fifty-something German whose right hand, arm and leg are deformed to the point
that he cannot drive a car unless it has been handicapped modified. Nonetheless, he was on a three-week long solo
bicycle tour of Eire, mind you, on dreadfully pot-holed and bumpy, narrow, hilly roads, where tour buses roar around
the corner with a vengeance. Oh, and he speaks very little English and has a speech impediment! You think maybe
I was inspired just a little by him? And then there was Amy, a twenty-eight-year old dentist from Michigan, who
after finishing her five months of traveling in Europe is heading off to the mountains of Guatemala to do volunteer
work with the native people there for a year. The list goes on.
My days in Dingle became characteristic of so many in Eire, miles and miles of spectacular hiking in the day, and
big time craic at night in the pubs. (No problem sleeping.) One day I headed to Slea Head, which is a must see
coastline along the peninsula: more beautiful cliffs, along with the Blasket Islands offshore. It was also in Eire
where I commenced hitch hiking, so after about twelve miles of walking I stuck out my thumb and a pair of German
lasses picked me up. They drove me around sightseeing for a couple of hours and then invited me to visit them in
Berlin sometime. I tell this story because it is typical, and was repeated several times, though not always Berliners.
Also near Dingle, four of us walked to Conner Pass where you can see both coasts of the Dingle Peninsula, and then
on up to the top of the nearest peak where we walked the ridge line where we could look down upon magnificent lakes
and across the valleys. Back at the hostel, we collectively whipped up an exquisite dinner that we voraciously
wolfed down, with wine of course. We hostellers call it "self-catering". In the background, Bjorn and
Jeremy played the piano and flute, beautifully of course.
Then on to the pubs. My favorite in Dingle was Dick Macks, a tiny place that's a combination pub and shoe repair
shop. At the bar sit local musicians playing "trad", traditional Irish music. Trad is an essential element
of Irish pubs, just like Guinness. It's usually played on any combination of the following instruments: violin,
accordion, guitar, banjo, flute, mandolin, dulcimer, Irish pipes, and can be a couple of instruments, or a legion
of them. The pace is fast, the spirit lively and the enthusiasm infectious. Trad was new to me, but I became a
big fan in one night, and pub after pub is filled with it - along with Guinness.
So, let's talk about Guinness. First of all, understand you have not really had Guinness until you have tasted
it in Eire. What I'd drunk and previously enjoyed in the US was not even a reasonable facsimile; in fact; it's
a joke! I can now say that I have stood at the pinnacle of beer drinking (or at least stout drinking), and sadly
it is all downhill from here. Oh sweet nectar of the gods, I bow to you in reverence and gratitude. I have tasted
heaven and its name is Guinness! Hallelujah!
Fact: a pint is only 109 calories. Fact: it's so high in iron that doctors recommend it to nursing women or those
recovering from surgery, and it is actually available in many hospitals. Fact: it's imperative to wait a few minutes
for the head to fully separate and form, and by tapping the glass with a coin you can clearly tell (or toll) when
it's time to savor its splendor. Patience will yield its ultimate reward!
I then decided to hitch from Dingle north to Kilkee. The first three rides I got were the first three cars that
came. The fourth and last required a wait of merely twelve minutes. Altogether, I got 18 rides in Eire, most within
minutes, and 16 were from locals. So it was free, easy transportation, and one that afforded me a unique opportunity
to talk with the people who live and work in Western Ireland: a farmer, a nurse, a DIY guy, a massage therapist,
a construction worker, a B&B owner, a small business owner, a housewife, both a French and German émigré…that's
a partial list.
The Irish people are very friendly and kind and went out of their way to help me appreciate and enjoy the land
they are so fiercely proud of. Unlike Wales, which has an economy in decline, Eire's is booming. New houses are
flying up, luxury car sales are setting records, and in a country about the size of Maine (302 by 108 miles), the
population is less than 4 million - the same as it was after the potato famine of the early 1840's. Although in
many ways things are looking up, some Irish are concerned that with the newfound affluence, the people will lose
some of the hospitality and pride of their history they are so famous for.
The next big winner for me was Doolin in county Clare. I loved Doolin! It seriously rocks! Known as being a mecca
for trad, it did not disappoint - in fact a standard was set there for me in McGann's Pub that was unmatched anywhere
else in Eire. On the two nights I was there three exceptional musicians played, and they'd obviously spent many
hours together for it was absolutely exhilarating trad! Off they would launch on a jig or reel, and on and on it
would go, their feet stamping, their heads bobbing, smiles from ear to ear, spurring each other on. And then, at
a feverish pace, one of them would shout out a key change, like G to C, and the pitch of the music would shift
like a Ferrari going into a hairpin corner, then later, maybe from C to D - and they would just keep going, smiling
at each other, playing all night with absolute joy.
And then, while they paused for their next musical assault, you might hear a lone voice rise out of the crowd,
a singer carrying on a tradition called sean-mos, which is when an old Irish ballad is sung solo - usually a heartfelt
song of love for the country that their ancestors had fought so long and hard to create and sustain. Powerful and
deeply touching. Hard to find a dry eye and unforgettable for me.
Doolin also has the Cliffs of Moher, which are magnificent, though heavily visited. But I did find an isolated
shoreline where I could traverse the limestone fissures alone. I would lie at the edge of cliffs peering downward
into surf that sometimes crashed so violently that it would explode upwards several hundred feet, stinging my wind-burned
face. Gulls, the ultimate hang gliders, would soar by within a few feet, never flapping their winds, just angling
their bodies to catch the powerful thermals. I suspect they were feeding, but they looked as though they might
be just playing. I think I spotted Jonathan Livingston there.
I recommend that you then take the ferry from Doolin out to the Arans, three islands that're one of the last bastions
of the Irish language. You'll find prehistoric ruins, a rugged lunar-type landscape, and rocky shores - a harsh,
stark beauty that's both stunning and haunting at the same time. Walking the island there are hundreds of tiny
corrals built with stones. Each landowner has several for their gardens, cows, donkeys, sheep, etc., and due to
a shortage of wood there're few gates. Either they climb over the walls or they knock down a section when it's
time to move livestock! Along the shoreline are curraughs, their unique boats designed for navigating the rough
seas, plus lobster traps stacked up and plies of harvested kelp drying for export.
In front of the roaring fireplace at the hostel at night, I talked with Bridget, an 18-year-old Canadian girl who
had been there two weeks and could not seem to leave. From under her bangs she looked at me with her great big
brown eyes and explained, "There's nothing to do here. I just walk the island every day!" She then just
shrugged her shoulders, and laughed. I understood. There are places that seem to reach inside certain people grab
them, never letting go. Perhaps she'll never leave.
From the Arans I took another ferry to Galway, which promotes itself as the "Arts capitol of Ireland".
Galway is heavily visited and quite busy. I know of at least eight hostels there, one of which I stayed in for
a night that had 187 beds! Street performers are common in the park and along the streets and there's a festive
air about the town. There are a lot of tour buses, but I enjoyed it before hitching westward to Clifden.
Clifden is a small town that lies in Connemara County, which I found to have the prettiest inland scenery anywhere
I visited in Eire. For the first time I found the abundance of firs, often framing small lakes at the base of immense
rocky hills (they call them mountains in Ireland). It very much reminded me of Ontario, Canada. At one point I
stood along a road waiting for a ride overlooking one such lake which had a small island in the middle with a tiny
castle on it, draped with vines and moss. Sheep were grazing in the fields and along the highway and the sky was
dotted with puffy white clouds. I do not carry a camera, but that image is indelibly imprinted in my memory as
deeply as if on film and I was almost disappointed when a car stopped for me.
From Clifden itself, I did an eleven-mile walk out and back on a peninsula where I enjoyed my own private beach
overlooking the Atlantic. At night I sat at one of the local pubs with two young French women experiencing the
Irish's current fixation with country music (and I understand line dancing is quite the thing now). A Willie Nelson
clone belted out Ricky Nelson's "Hello Mary Lou", almost bringing the house down, while bringing puzzlement
and amusement to our faces.
Fast Eddie's Travel Tip: if you're planning on visiting Ireland, just do it. You could not possibly regret it.
I suggest, however, that unless you have more than two weeks that you skip Dublin (I did with no regrets) and fly
directly into Shannon where you can rent a car which you're likely to find to be handy (and cheap too if you are
more than one). May is a good time as spring is at its peak, and you're there just before the summer onslaught
of tourists. Cover the western coast of the island. Bring a raincoat. Do not talk about "the revolution".
Somehow, some way, make sure you spend time with the Irish people. Oh, and be ready for loads of craic!
I'm now in London for just two nights. Tomorrow I leave on an express train via the tunnel to southern France for
a twenty-one-day Zen meditation retreat. I'll sleep in my tent, get up at 5 am, and drink absolutely no Guinness.
I'm very eager to get there.
I love it when I have to ask someone, "By the way, what day is it?"
Wind swept, rock strewn hills
Drenched by explosions of green
Faeries hiding somewhere
Some Websites with information about Pembrokeshire and Eire:
http://www.pembrokeshirecoast.org/english/index1.htm
--The Pembrokeshire coast, Wales
http://goireland.about.com/ --All about Ireland
http://www.dingle-peninsula.ie/ --The Dingle Peninsula
http://www.kingsway.ie/doolin/ --about Doolin
http://goireland.about.com/travel/goireland/library/weekly/aa101799.htm
--The Aran Islands
http://www.galway.net/ --Everything you ever wanted to know about Galway
http://www.connemara.net/photography/index.tmpl
--Photos of Connemara, Ireland
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Peace
and love
