Ireland, Wales and Whittington, 2010

Contents

Dublin
Wales
Lichfield and Whittington
Connemara

The hot, dry North Carolina summer drove us to seek cool, wet weather, and where better to find it than in western Ireland and southwest Wales?

Sure enough it was raining when we arrived in Dublin. That rain, though, was almost the last we saw for two weeks.

We did not complain. The weather was perfect for long walks around the town, which is laid out compactly along the banks of the Liffey river.

The center of Dublin is the busy O'Connell Street. From there one can pass back and forth across the Liffey, using the Ha'penny Bridge for pedestrians, or this modern bridge for vehicles. There's also the bridge by Calatrava, very much like one we saw in Buenos Aires. (See also our later visit to Sevilla, Spain).

We took a tour of Dublin Castle. Passing through the state rooms, including the elegant dining room and the ballroom, we learned something of the history of Ireland.

Behind the castle is a restful garden, and the Chester Beatty library, definitely one of the highlights of our visit. (See their web site for more information)

We visited Trinity College, first searching for the entrance, which looks rather inconsequential. Inside, though, one finds a broad expanse of courtyards and buildings.

Like most universities, Trinity is a blend of the modern and the traditional - the sculpture a gift by the artist Pomadoro.

The most popular location is the long library which houses the Book of Kells - well worth the visit for lovers of calligraphy. (See this web site)

The same blend of old and new is seen in the city, the former customs house next door to this monument to the economic boom, and Georgian terraces set off by new structures of arguable aesthetic value.

Street lamps echo the same theme. These street lights along the O'Connell Bridge are situated just up river from the modern version.

We found rest from the hectic city life in Saint Stephen's Green, where students were taking advantage of the weather. Another haven was Merion Square, a setting of quiet paths and formal gardens. Here is a lifelike sculpture of Oscar Wilde, beside a pillar displaying his more celebrated witticisms.

St. Stephen's Green contains many other interesting sculptures, including Henry Moore's homage to W. B. Yeats and a fountain featuring the Three Fates, which was a gift from the German people. In one corner is a touching memorial to the victims of the great famine. Beside the Liffey is a sculpture dedicated to the city's dock workers.

A pleasant walk in Dublin is along the Grand Canal, which circles the city, ending at Dublin's docks. Beside one of the canal locks occasional flower arrangements can be seen. What they signal we do not know. When tired, we could join one of Dublin's celebrated poets (Patrick Kavanagh) in quiet reflection.

One purpose of our trip was to visit Gordon's sister Margaret (Bunty). We flew to Birmingham and drove through the countryside of southwest Wales. Near the small town of Meidrim we found Coed Yr Iwen, a stately home surrounded by stately oaks.

In a cottage at the back of the house we were welcomed by Hiag and Bunty, accompanied by assorted friendly dogs, a few peacocks (somewhat less friendly) and horses. The animals are owned by the family in the big house, but they entertain everyone.

One dog in particular, Tillie, is a central member of the family, equally enjoyed (or tolerated?) by Hiag. While very friendly to people, Tillie is still a terrier, and relentless in her pursuit of rodents and other pests.

Near Meidrim is the town of Saint Clears. In the town we came across some elegant farm buildings "guarded" by other very friendly dogs.

Nearby is an ideal spot for a walk along country lanes and along the River Taf. We were blessed with perfect weather for walking.

From Saint Clears we drove to Laugharne, home of Dylan Thomas for the last few years of his life. Behind the town lie the tide flats and a path to the boat house that Thomas occupied. A small shed is where he did most of his writing. We took tea at the boat house and headed home.

Next morning we opted for a long walk in the fields near Carreg Cennan Castle, east of Carmarthen. The well marked trail took us past a herd of Welsh cattle. We had to ford a stream to reach a hilltop with a great view over distant fields.

A wooded section passed by handsome trees that made us think of ents, and we saw ruined buildings covered in moss and history.

In one field, parts of the ground had collapsed, mature trees growing from the sink holes. Stone walls separated the fields from open moor. From time to time the trail provided impressive views of the castle.

Reluctantly, we said farewell to Bunty and Hiag and headed for the English midlands. Along the way we stopped for lunch in Hay on Wye, a town of 1500 people boasting 30 or more book shops.

We stayed for two nights in Lichfield, where Gordon attended school. Lichfield is a town with a rich history, full of quaint tudor buildings. A market was in operation in the town square. Dr. Johnson (who attended Gordon's grammar school), presumably, would not approve. His biographer, James Boswell, would have merely observed and recorded.

Lichfield's major attraction is its cathedral, famous for the three spires. The west front displays numerous statues of saints and monarchs, some of which are in a state of some disrepair. The cathedral's benefactor, King Charles II, is sadly eroded. Extensive repairs are underway to restore the stone work.

We spent some time visiting the interior of the cathedral. While the most important stained glass windows are being restored, smaller ones can still be enjoyed.

Another high point for lovers of calligraphy are the 8th century gospels of Saint Chad. An ingenious computer display allows a viewer to see the whole document. You can see how extra text has been squeezed into pages with partial blank space.

The main purpose of our trip to England was to revisit Whittington, the village where Gordon and Bunty grew up. Things have changed in the last 50 years.

Older cottages have been spruced up, but more recent construction is pretty ugly. We stopped by Gordon's early home, the Holt, or what's left of it after a "modernization" of the older parts. Next door is the post office, right where it had been in the dining room of the old Holt, but now in this dreadful building.

Gordon had to revisit the cricket field, site of his (occasional) early sporting success as an off-spinner. It was in better condition than the cow pasture of 50 years ago.

Sue Cooke, our contact at the Whittington History Society, gave us a tour of the Old Hall. Sue owns half of the hall, which was once a mysterious private estate. The gardens were a delight, and it was fascinating to see how the hall, including this magnificent fireplace, has been preserved while making the house liveable.

We flew back to Ireland for the remainder of our vacation. We stopped briefly in Gallway, where we had lunch near the river.

From Gallway it's an hour's drive to Clifden, in the heart of Connemara. At our hotel we were greeted by another playful dog, and treated to beautiful views of Ardbear Bay.

Next morning, as the sun rose, the moon set over the bay. We explored Clifden , a town sitting in the shadow of the local mountains, the Twelve Bens.

Just beyond Clifden is the Sky Road, a drive that offers imposing views of coastal scenery and colorful expanses of gorse and stonecrop

We spent most of one day on the island of Inishboffin ("Isle of the white cow"). To get there we drove to Cleggan, a small fishing village, and took the ferry from Cleggan harbor. While waiting there we were entertained by yet one more happy dog.

The island offers a sheltered harbor framed by small farming villages. A narrow road leads away from the houses, which include one or two "fixer uppers" that might be tempting. The last habitation is an old crofter's cottage, now just a storage shed. We saw white sheep and brown cows, but no white cows.

The road becomes a grassy path, and eventually open moor. The grass reminded us of manicured golf courses. Equally stunning are the lovely deserted beaches.

The terrain becomes more rugged towards the north west corner, where the grass gives way to bogs, and to an eroding cliff-top. That's JoAnn in the distance - she refused to come closer. Her concern was understandable. Beyond the cliff is a sheer drop to the Atlantic ocean.

The evening ferry ride back to Cleggan offered views of small islands and the Twelve Bens.

Next day we explored the bog road, a quiet road south of Clifden. The road passes through the Roundstone bog, and is flanked by the Twelve Bens. There's little traffic, but plenty of sheep. There's nothing much else to see but colorful patches of gorse and bracken.

From the bog road we drove to the island of Inishnee. A major occupation on the island, which can be reached from the mainland by a short bridge, seems to be lobster fishing.

We walked around the island using a deserted path. At one point, as Gordon walked ahead, he was surprised by an inquisitive local. What the horse was really interested in, though, was whatever JoAnn was doing.

From Inishnee one can see the town of Roundstone across the bay. Roundstone is a pretty town with a pleasant harbor.

Next day we visited the Connemara National Park, home to a number of Connemara ponies. Our goal was to climb Diamond Hill, a peak of some 450 meters.

As we ascended we were treated to beautiful views of the Connemara coast. To reach the top we had to climb the left slope of the hill, and here the going gets tougher.

The closer one gets to the top, the steeper the climb. However, with a final push we made it to the summit. From the top, the views of the surrounding mountains and the valley of the Polladirk River were stunning.

Of course, the occasional fell runner made it all seem easy, but at the end we could look back with a sense of some accomplishment.

Games and Celebrations

We were in town one evening when we saw a number of students walking around on stilts. It was time for the annual Clifden Festival parade.

At its head was a harlequin puppet greeting the crowds. The master of ceremonies controlled the music, a pounding disco beat. He was followed by a line of minarets like something out of Arabian Nights.

One member of the parade rode this magical horse, while a group of young students performed as dancing girls. From a cherry picker dangled an acrobat, while groups of younger students carried monster puppets. It was certainly the most unusual parade we have ever seen.

Next day we found a rugby match in Clifden, and spent a little time relaxing at this lovely setting for a sports field.

Rugby being something new for JoAnn, Gordon tried to explain the game - the scrum and the lineout, the principles of attack and defense. JoAnn, though, thought it looked like nothing so much as a bunch of puppies tearing at each other.

On our last day we drove back to Dublin. After a farewell toast at the airport, we returned home to North Carolina, where finally we found the rains.

Seen in a bar on Inishboffin

There were the Scots, who kept the sabbath, and everything else they could lay their hands on.

There were the Welsh, who prayed on their knees, and on their neighbours.

There were the Irish, who never knew what they wanted, but were willing to fight for it anyway.

There were the English, who considered themselves a self-made nation, thus relieving the Almighty of a terrible responsibility.

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