Smiling skies of Ireland

Celtic lore

When four of us decided to visit Ireland, our heads were full of the literary giants Y B Yeats, J M Synge, Oscar Wilde, Samuel Becket, James Joyce; the films Ryan’s Daughter, Titanic, Far and Away; Catholic-protestant clashes; the IRA; Irish gigs and ballads; the boisterous pubs; the haunting song “Danny Boy”; Irish humour and weather; leprechauns.

Ireland is supposed to have about six sunny days spread over the year. During our visit, we were privileged to have not only six sunny days at a stretch, but the bonus of an additional day.

Our guide Carmel who had researched well, kept us entertained with her talk, interspersed with titbits of literature, history and folklore all laced with humour.

Sights & sounds

Delayed flight forced us to miss the city tour of Dublin the first evening. We hailed a cab and a practical friend asked what the approximate fare would be. “1,000 Euros,” the cabbie quipped. Then grinned, adding that it would only cost a nominal sum. Talk of Irish humour!

Well rested, we headed north the next day to the site of the Battle of Boyle and through the Boyle Valley with its pre-historic passage graves. We stopped to see where St Patrick was buried. Then into Belfast where we took in the fantastic Titanic exhibition — a part of it in a cable car.

Over the next week, we stopped at Giant’s Causeway (a UNESCO heritage site). The giant Finn McCool is believed to have taken a chunk of the coast. It is steeped in legend and folklore. It is also a geological wonder with its innumerable basalt columns. We proceeded to Derry city. Donegal, founded by the Vikings of Denmark, piqued our interest, being the homeland of the O’Donnell clan. We drove along Donegal Bay. The little fishing ports caught our fancy. A good night’s sleep at Sligo had us energised. We set out early to Knock, a village turned into a pilgrim centre after the early inhabitants saw apparitions. Then we reached the swinging city of Galway. The quaint, yet rocking city made me want to hear “Galway gal”.

Later, we crossed the Burren Plateau to the sheer cliffs of Moher. The clear blue water beneath looked so serenely beautiful that I wished we could cruise round the cliffs. Carol said the water was treacherous and a boat would be “smashed to smithereens” by the wild waves hitting the cliffs. Looks can be deceptive. A medieval banquet was scheduled at Bunratty Castle that evening. Walking around the castle, I pointed out a ‘hooker’ (boat) to my friends.

The next morning, we rounded Limerick city for a look at King John’s castle (our guide urged us to write our own limericks — rather like a school ma’am) and into Adare. It is a picturesque village with the cutest thatched cottages. Even today, the locals spend thousands of euros to thatch the roof. The drive along the Dingle Peninsula was a visual treat — the uninterrupted view of the Atlantic was a feast for the eyes.

Rural routes

Our next leg of journey started with the Ring of Killarney — a hundred mile drive of sheer beauty — seascapes, mountains with pretty little houses perched on them, vistas of lush green grass. Emerald Isle indeed! On returning to Killarney, we took a horse carriage drive through the National Park. It was a disappointing jutka ride for us though some were quite rapturous. But what was imprinted in our minds was a superb dance performance that evening by the Celtic Nights troupe. The fast, energetic tap dancing was so electric that it had the audience enthralled.

Six days had flown past. On the seventh morning, we went over the Kerry Mountains into Cork county. We stopped at Blarney. My friend warned me not to kiss the Blarney stone. It was rich, coming from a person who isn’t exactly taciturn. After brief stops at Youghal (pronounced You-all) and Dungarvan, we reached Waterford to gaze at the exquisite crystalware. That night, at Tramore, we meandered into a pub, run by the same family for over three centuries. While everyone (except me) had drinks on the house and more, a singer entertained us. I was pleasantly surprised to hear “Galway gal” sung at the “request of an Indian guest.”

Going northward again on the last day, we found time to see Enniscorthy where the last battle of the Great Rebellion was fought, admired Aran sweaters at Avoca where Irelands’s oldest handweaving mill is located. On the way to Glendalough, we had a good view of the Wicklow mountains. After looking around the ruins of St Kevin’s Chapel (the founder of Irish Christianity), we reached Dublin for a much-needed night’s rest.