Category: Photos

The road home from Monasterboice took me through Wicklow Mountains National Park. If you’ve ever watched PS: I love you, then you’ll know that’s where she got lost and met Hottie O’Irish! Tragically, there were no lost hot Irish guys wandering around looking for a forever home.

It’s a peaceful drive with quite a few places to pull over and grab some snaps. I was surprised to see a ruin at the bottom of one of the hills. It would be the perfect cottage if you’re looking for an open plan, permanently air-conditioned layout. I think on my next trip I’ll make a plan to do a hike here because it looks amazing!

Last stop of the day was The Beehive pub for some fish, chips and a pint of Guinness. Man, the food here is divine!

Over a stellar breakfast and coffee at the Cafe Latte in Ashford, I picked today’s random destination – Monasterboice. It was a bit of a drive in Irish terms but in American distance, it’s just up the road. A quick 2 hour drive north of Dublin, a few scary roads and a chocolate stop, I ended up at Monasterboice. There was 1 other car there so it was great having the place to myself before the bus load of tourists arrived.

It’s another early Christian settlement, established in the late 400’s by one of St. Patrick’s original followers. During my 2015 trip to Scotland, I was marveling at a chapel built in the 1,100’s. Ireland is on a completely different playing field.

Monasterboice is most famous for its high Celtic crosses built in the 10th century, with Muiredach’s High cross considered one of the best in Ireland. Each panel of the cross features biblical carvings from both old and new testaments. There are 2 other crosses on the site (North and West Crosses) but they’re slightly more worn down from the elements and aren’t as high.

There’s also a round tower, similar to the one at Glendalough, which was built around the time of the Norman invasions. Very Rapunzel-like.

The detail on the carvings came out better on monochrome photos so took a bunch to capture the detail and how well many of them have weathered over the ages.

It’s a beautiful site and well worth a visit if you happen to be around that way. Even if you’re not, it’s worth a drive. Most people only spend about half hour there but if you’re anything like me, you’ll take a stroll through the headstones and that takes some time. The old and new side by side brings home how integral history is in this place. History isn’t written over but exists alongside the new and it’s seamlessly stitched together as if it was always meant to be that way. The most recent grave there was 3 weeks old. Life and death go on down the centuries like an unbroken line and the history endures.

I’m not from a religious family but I find peace and tranquility in places like this. Some people avoid these places because they’re not of the faith depicted but personally I find that it doesn’t require a matching faith to appreciate the true beauty and energy of these ancient ruins. Marvel at the history and let the world wait a while. Pause a minute at the resting places of those who have gone before because we’ll be joining them soon enough.

We got the full Irish fry-up this morning, complete with black pudding. I’ve gotten brave on this trip so scoffed the lot, including Mykal’s black pudding. I’m fairly sure I’ll go home with cholesterol but meh, it’s delicious so no regrets!

After brekkie we headed off to the botanical gardens which are just up the road from Springfarm Cottage. Thankfully it didn’t rain so we had a good stroll through the place. So peaceful! As we walked in, there were purple crocuses growing under the trees and in the grass, which was gorgeous! All those saffron stamens just decorating the place.

After the gardens, we took a drive to Brittas Bay and went for a walk on the beach. We were completely under-dressed because it was cold and windy. Everyone else had coats and we showed up in light jerseys and barefoot because who wears shoes to the beach!? We had to put our toes in the sea, which was totally flat until we needed to touch it. At that point we got knee deep in a rogue wave. Oops… Thankfully we got a picture before that happened because we were too cold after that to do anything but run for the local pub and scoff lunch.

Sadly after lunch, it was home to pack and dropped Mykal off at the plane station. I hate goodbyes and it was really difficult to watch him leave. Love that lunatic to the moon and back! I’ll hopefully be back there soon enough – the dream lives on.

Mykal and I headed out to Glendalough ruins after a simple breakfast. The scenery on the drive was so beautiful and serene. The drive was somewhat less serene with scary narrow roads but we got to the ruins early enough to grab a parking spot. Always a good start! We managed to get there before it became too crowded. It’s a really popular place with tour buses so if you’re headed that way, take that into consideration and plan to get there early.

The monastery was founded by St Kevin back in the 6th century. That something founded so long ago still stands, even if only partly, is truly incredible. It’s set in a valley, with a small river that winds past the settlement. The trees in the valley are starting to turn as autumn sets in and it gives the place a truly magical feel. It was destroyed by the English in 1398.

Some of the buildings were rebuilt in later centuries, using stone from the original ruins.

The Cathedral was one of the largest early Christian churches in Ireland but stopped being a cathedral back in 1214. The decorated chancel arch was added in the 12th century. The gravestones that you see against the wall are from medieval times.

After leaving Glendalough, we headed down to Wicklow for a spot of lunch at Phil Healy’s. DELICIOUS! If you’re in that neck of the woods, it’s worth a stopover. Their slow-cooked brisket was sublime and I had my first Guinness. Then a quick trek up a steep hill to Black Castle ruins, which was little more than a wall left standing of what was once a castle.

All in all it was a damn fine day in the Emerald Isle!

I spent my last full day in Kilcrohane just relaxing. The weather wasn’t great so cooked up a delicious breakfast with the last of the supplies Claire dropped off and sorted out an Irish coffee.

On the peninsula, just outside Ahakista, is a memorial to those who died in the Air India bombing in 1985. I’d never heard of this disaster until I stopped there. Their final resting place is truly beautiful.

In the afternoon, I took a drive down to the point to Bertie’s Coffee Shop. The fog was rolling in quite heavily so I was the only person there. She makes a DIVINE vegetable soup and the bread is delicious! She’s a laugh to talk to. Had a final cup of tea for the road then drove back down to the cottage. Tomorrow it’s off to Dublin to meet my friend, who is popping in for the weekend. Cannot wait to see him! Then off down to Wicklow for a week. Time seems to be flying by and I really wish it wouldn’t…

There was no set plan for this holiday; just a need to get away. So today on a whim, I decided to drive out to a little gift shop in Goleen. The same crazy, winding roads and an hour later I ended up in the village of Goleen.

Turns out where Google maps had pinned the gift shop was actually a coffee shop so stopped in for coffee and the most sublime coffee cake I’ve ever tasted. Cost next to nothing, which continues to blow my mind and I parked off in a window seat with a book. Half the village must have stopped in for coffee and everyone seemed to know everyone else. I love people-watching in places like that. Turns out the coffee shop is also the post office, which closed for lunch while I was there. The lady sat behind me and I asked her about the gift shop. Turns out the post office was also the gift shop until last week but she’d be happy to call the lady if there was anything particular I was looking for.

A few people came in and dropped off letters and cash while the post office was closed and while I was finishing up my coffee, the mobile library van pulled up outside and a few people sorted out their literary needs for the next few weeks. This tiny village is exactly how I imagine my dream life. Sitting in the coffee shop, catching up with friends, reading a book and a mobile library is just a cherry on the cake.

The post office lady suggested I drive to Mizen Head, which is the most southwestern tip of Ireland and she pointed me in the general direction. I stopped at the corner shop for a drink and there were 2 people in line waiting to pay. No-one behind the till. The owner was apparently out doing a delivery and ‘would be back at some point’, so we all just waited patiently. That would never work here. That shop would be empty by the time she returned. But there it made perfect sense. The 2 guys were catching up on each other’s news while we waited and the lady eventually came back in, no hurry, and attended to her customers. I frikking love it!

Mizen Head was windy as all hell but there was a gift shop and I’m now the proud owner of 2 more books. Yes, I’m sure it’s a disease and no, I don’t care. Sitting watching the ocean crashing into the point was therapeutic. I’ve missed the ocean so much. Listening to the surf and watching the waves made me realize just how much I’ve missed it. It’s driven home how much I crave the simpler things, like how life goes on in that little village. Quite, unhurried, simple. Sometimes you don’t know what you need until it’s put right in front of your face for you to look at.

Driving home I followed the mobile library van for a bit then turned off back to Kilcrohane. There was a little burial ground along the road, so I stopped. The grass was completely saturated so left my shoes at the gate and headed in barefoot. The ground between the head and foot stones was raised; it’s as if the ground never settled over the bodies resting below. I spent a bit of time there, just walking among the stones, some of which have been there for centuries. What stories lie untold under them? I always wonder…

I’ve been waking up at 10am since I’ve arrived. Madness…. feels like I’ve slept half the day away. I didn’t have anything planned for this trip, other than R&R, so on a whim, took a drive to Timoleague to see the abbey ruins. Another white-knuckle drive and stopped for fuel along the way. I went to pump petrol and this elderly gentlemen insisted on pumping it for me. He gave me directions to Timoleague, told me to stay in Ireland, then went on his merry way.

The abbey is in the middle of a tiny village, where the only thing that was open was the corner shop. There is a preschool opposite the abbey and I had the ruins to myself. Old and new graves fill in the nooks and crannies in the abbey, along with more graves outside the walls. One grave dates back to 1603. I sat next to that one for a while, having a one-sided conversation with Eoin. His headstone is written in Gaelic and is incredibly well-preserved. Others are way more recent and haven’t fared as well.

I walked around all the graves, and one of the little kids at the school saw me and yelled GRAVE ROBBER. I had to laugh even though he was very serious about his accusation, even going so far as to call his teacher to inform her of the goings on in the cemetery. Given there were signs around warning against the hazards of grave digging, maybe he was right to be so mad about it.

There was a headstone for a Gaelic authoress and this is her story.

I’d initially planned to stop at a castle on the way home but I spent more time than expected at the abbey, so the castle can wait until some other time.

After breakfast I headed out to the stone circle at Drombeg. It was another white-knuckle drive off the beaten track, down 1 lane country roads but I got there eventually. Slight ding to the front of the car swerving to avoid a crazy woman who didn’t slow down to pass but thank the pope, I took the all-inclusive insurance, so we’re good.

There were a few people there when I arrived, but they left soon enough so had the place to myself for a bit. I can usually feel the energy of a place but oddly, I didn’t have any feelings at this place. It’s still beautiful but it lacked the energy I would have expected from a stone circle.

After Drombeg, I drove back to Kilcrohane and passed a sign for a burial ground, way off the beaten track. When Google maps goes offline, then you know you’re off the grid. The cemetery was next to some chapel ruins and there was a car parked there. Met an old man in the cemetery and he said in all the years he’s been going there to see his people, he’s never met a living soul. We chatted for a while and he told me that once a year on 1 November, they have prayers there for the dead. The place was completely overgrown.

Irish graves don’t list date of birth, only date of death, which is odd. Apparently that’s how it’s done here. Date of death and age but no birth date. What a lovely guy. He told me to stay in Ireland, find an Irish farmer and move here. Well, if you happen to have a spare one of those lying about, please let me know!

I stayed for a while longer and walked around. I find the dead make infinitely more sense than the living. They only speak when there’s something important to say. In one of the walls in the ruins, was a little gap filled with coins. Not sure what the reason is for that, but I like it. Most of the headstones were faded to the point where the names are illegible so said hi and moved on.

Took a drive down to the point. With the fog rolling in it felt like I was driving through the clouds, along the winding one lane roads. Thankfully there was a coffee shop at the end of the road so had a cup of tea and some scones with jam and cream. The little Irish lady was sitting there, working on her sewing and we got to chatting. She told me find an Irish farmer and stay. Forget the rat race. Twice in the same day…. two strangers. Same message. Co-incidence?