Day 7: Liscanoor to Dingle The Cliffs of Moher!

Today was another day I'd been looking forward to--we'd be walking the Cliffs of Moher! Our first real hike on our adventure tour, and I was thrilled!

After a quick breakfast, we climbed into the Land Rover for the Cliffs, a short 10 minute ride away. The weather was beautiful all morning, right until we stepped into the parking lot and it started raining on us! Not the best sign, for sure, but we joked and said better that it came now instead of on the cliffs. And sure enough, as soon as we drove away, the rain stopped.

The car ride over was loud--everyone was silly, giddy, to see the Cliffs. We saw our first Irish rainbow, which was exciting, and we saw a tiny bunny run across a field (Irish wildlife!).

"A hare!" Bébhinn cried, pointing at it, and we all oohed and ahhhed.

Bébhinn parked the Vagatron in a random lot, with a field of horses below, and a field of cows above us. 

She explained that we'd follow the trail to the visitor's center. She'd walk part way us, then go back for the the Vagatron drive it to the center to meet us there.

I really had no idea how long the trail was, or how far away the visitor's center was. I was just along for the ride.

We stepped away from the Vagatron, and suddenly, the rain started up again. Only this wasn't the gentle rain like before--this was thunderstorm, hard, piercing rain! And it came with wind, lots of wind, blasting us with cold air and more big, hard rain drops. The rain fell at us sideways, pelting our faces and instantly soaking our clothes.

We all kind of laughed--what an adventure we were on, in the Irish rain! But we only laughed a few minutes, because honestly, it was MISERABLE. If it rained like this at home, I'd stay inside--no way I'd be outside, let alone HIKING in this! 

But we hiked on, pushing our hoods from our faces, wiping the rain as quickly as it fell. But it never stopped falling. We stopped at a lone detached wall and hunkered down to get out of the rain for a few minutes, then started on again. 

Eventually, Bébhinn led us to sanctuary in a cow pasture. We stepped around the muck, and leaned down against a single block wall. It sheltered us a bit from the wind, though the rain kept falling. Cows stood staring at us, swishing their tails, and wondering what the heck we were doing.

It. Was. Awful. I'm not gonna lie to you, I was NOT having fun. I mean, I was up for an adventure, but this was more torture than adventure. I was having such a miserable time that I decided when Bébhinn turned back to go to the car, I was going with her. The hell with the Cliffs, all I wanted was to be dry and out of the rain.

But bless her hearty Irish heart, Bébhinn was tougher than us. She led us forward, toward the first set of styles, a small wooden staircase with two giant rock slab borders. People climb over them, but cows, sheep and horses can't, keeping them safely away from the cliff edges.

Brian, ever the gentleman, stood at the side, hand out, helping us over. I grabbed his hand, flung my leg up, and screamed--something in my knee popped! An electrical current of pain shot through my knee, and I quickly set my leg down on the other side.

"You okay?" Brian asked, and I totally lied, nodding yes to him. 

We walked on, up a muddy hill, over another style, and up a wet grass hill. 

Bébhinn pointed out a crumbling stone building, explaining it was one of the many Napoleonic towers we'd seen in the hills yesterday. (Napoleon once threatened to raid Ireland, so they built these lookouts all along the Irish coasts to watch for ships coming in to port.)

We explored the tower a bit, eventually re-grouping at the edge of the grass. We were finally, literally, on the edge, staring 700 feet down the Cliffs of Moher. It was exhilarating and scary.

Bébhinn gathered us up, and said it was time to take back the weather.

"Let's see your sun dance!" she called, reaching her arms out and lifting her head back. We all copied, and then the weirdest thing happened--it worked! The rain stopped falling, and I swear to God, the sun came out! The gray skies turned to bright blue, and the sun warmed us through and through.

"Whoa," I whispered. It was pretty crazy how quickly that worked!

And it was all we needed to change our mood. Now we were ready to hike, ready to walk through that brilliant green grass, toward the sun. 

Bébhinn left, and we moved forward. The group split into smaller groups--Nate and Ben took off, their long legs striding quickly out of sight. Ashley ran off too, running as close to the edge as she could, as her mom Mary followed behind. 

Bébhinn warned us to lay down if we wanted to go on the edge, because one puff of wind could send you flying over the edge.

George and Brian stopped to take photos, and Margie strolled along with Jan and Linda. Everyone went at their own pace.

I stopped at first to take a really good look over the Cliffs (but not nearly as close as Ben, Nate or Ashley--I've got a healthy fear of heights!). 

It was breathtaking--the drop was so steep! There were sea birds everywhere, diving from the cliffs, landing on the crevices. Waves crashed into the cliffs, sending giant sprays of water everywhere. Giant clouds floated in the blue sky, their shadows casting dark circles in the ocean. It was spectacular.

It was also cool because we could get so close to it. In America, there'd be a fence 15 feet from the edge, with warnings to keep away. There's be rangers, and video cameras, and another second wall to keep people out, and protect them. Here, there was a skinny, muddy trail to follow, and nothing to protect you but your common sense. (No, that would not help in the States!) There was nothing for safety except a fence--on the OTHER side of the path, not the cliff side, but the pasture-side, and it was to protect the cows and sheep!

Which made the walk even better--it gave us a sense of danger, and freedom. 

Amber and I took about a million pictures too, and stopped approximately every five minutes to scream, "I love this place! Look how beautiful it is here!" 

We felt like we were in a dream--was there really a place as gorgeous as this, and was it possible we were really WALKING IN IT RIGHT NOW? We were like giggly little schoolgirls, laughing and pointing at everything.

I was a little bit nervous, though--I'm not a fast walker, more of a stroller. I didn't want to be the last one to the end, and I didn't want the group to wait five hours for me to finish. I thought of the little hare we saw in the field, and I perked up.

"I'm going," I told Amber. "I'm like the tortoise--I'm slow but steady! I'm just gonna keep walking so I don't fall too far behind." 

It was a phenomenal walk. We cruised the tops of the Cliffs, never more than a couple feet from the edge. The trail was lined with adorable little wildflowers (lots of my floral namesake, heather!) and the occasional cow. There was no one else on the trial but us, and the silence was very calming.

Amber and I turned a corner and came to a thousand rocks scattered all over. Lots had been stacked into high, wobbly towers. It was surprising to see so many stones here all at once, when we'd only seen them one or two at a time along the rest of the path.

Nate and Ben sat on the edge of the cliff, legs casually swinging, tossing rocks into the air, and watching them sail down, eventually, into the water. They were totally chill, peaceful even, but they gave me an anxiety attack both as a mom and as someone with a wicked fear of heights. I'd felt a pang of guilt upon meeting 15-year-old Ben--maybe I should've brought Mark--but this image killed any remaining guilt. I'd have spent the entire hike yelling at Mark to move back from the edge!

Amber and I continued on. At one point, Amber turned around to say something, and I saw her eyes grow large. 

"Get a move on, Dinsdale," she told me. "That rain is coming back for us!"

I turned around, too, and saw what alarmed Amber--giant gray storm clouds dumping walls of rain into the ocean.

"Oh crud," I said, and stepped up my pace. The rain did hit us again, but just barely--nothing like the brutal storm at the beginning!

We kept on our beautiful walk, and suddenly, there was Ashley, bouncing up next to us. 

"Hi, girls!" she said. Mother Mary was close behind, with Margie, Linda and Jan.

"Where'd you guys come from?" I asked, confused. I hadn't seen anyone in 15 minutes--I thought thy were all far, far ahead of us.

"They're all back there," Ashley said, pointing toward Brian and George. I saw Nate and Ben, too, but only momentarily, as their long legs took them running right past us.

"Keep going, girls!" Ashley called, chasing after the boys. "We're almost there!"

I just started laughing. 

"We're winning!" I told Amber. "I thought we were the last ones, but we were in the lead the whole time! Just like the tortoise!" 

That totally cracked me up!

But we weren't done yet. We had to climb down a steep stone valley with a lakeful of water in it, and then back up the muddy path, which grew skinnier as we walked. 

As the visitor's center came in to view, more and more walkers jammed on to the the trail, and more people stood along the cliffs taking photos. We'd been all alone for the past 2 1/2 hours, and though it was a long hike, I was grateful we'd had that time to ourselves to really appreciate the scenic beauty.

George and Brian passed us, too, as did Jan, and I still came in last, but only by mere seconds, not hours, like I'd feared.

We finally got to the visitor's center, which we loved for two reasons: 1. It had bathrooms! 2. It was built into the hills, which made it look like part of the landscape. Very cool!

We found Bébhinn and most of the group already there, except for Linda and Brian.

"I think they went to explore that other castle," someone said, pointing up at a stone structure.

Margie looked mildly annoyed but not surprised. "Text your dad or Linda," she told the boys.

"We did," Nate and Ben answered in unison.

Bébhinn was pacing--she had to keep us (mostly) on schedule, and this was not helping.

"Those Shinners!" she cursed, jokingly. "When they come back, we should shun the Shinners!"

"Shun the Shinners!" we answered back. "Shun the Shinners!" 

"Not ALL the Shinners!" Margie interjected, and we all laughed. 

And when Brian and Linda showed up, that's exactly what we did. We all flipped our heads dramatically in the other direction (Bébhinn even gave them a loud, indignant  "HUMPH!") and walked off to the Vagatron. Then we dissolved into laughter and told them we were shunning the Shinners.

"But not ALL of them!" Margie reminded her.

It was such an awesome way to end the morning--what started out as the most miserable day in my life, but ended up being one of the best! It's amazing what a little sunshine and perspective can do.

We had a bit of a drive to lunch, so we buckled ourselves into the Land Rover and passed out snacks. Bébhinn drove us past a beach that held the record for most surfers on a wave in a photo (50ish?) and through the tiny town of Lahinch, which Brian incorporated into a Beach Boys song. She told us of a great storm last year that almost decimated the town with 30-foot waves, which made us a bit silent and reflective about that. Bébhinn felt bad about bringing us down, so Brian chimed in again with his Lahinch Beach Boys song, and soon enough, we were all laughing again.

As we drove on, someone asked about the Great Famine, and Bébhinn gave us another lesson. This was also sad--she told of the barren land that barely grew any food at all, save for root vegetables like potatoes and carrots, but grew enough to feed the folks if the English hadn't shipped all the food out of Ireland. She told us of the potato blight that decimated the crops, of the 1 million people that died, and the 1 million people that left Ireland, and how the population never recovered. the evil landlords and how they took advantage of their tenant farmers. She told of the mass exodus to America, and how the new American immigrants sent money back to the family farms. 

Again, it was all terribly sad, but really important to hear. It made me respect the hearty Irish people, their resourcefulness, and how they lived in a land that didn't give them an inch, not when it came to food, resources or even weather. I thought of the families struggling, of young men moving away across the world. And I thought of the pub from last night, and the mournful songs that seemed to hit home with all the patrons singing along. It IS sad, the Irish history, but it's also inspiring. Irish people got nothing easy, and they struggle for everything they do have, and yet...you've never met such a happy, friendly people. 

It was a lot to take in as the green fields and beaches flew by us through the car windows. It was even more heartbreaking for the families in the car of Irish descent, as they realized why and how their own families ended up in America. 

"Oh, I've done it again," Bébhinn fretted. "I brought everybody down again."

We assured her it was okay; quiet isn't always bad, and we came here to learn about Ireland, too, not just play.

We stopped for a quick lunch by the beach, and then it was back on the road. Bébhinn turned on some Irish tunes for us. The music filled the air, and as we passed by more fields of sheep, rolling hills, and stone fences, I smiled. It was all just so perfect, almost like I was in a movie, with the Irish songs and sights passing in front of my eyes. I could feel Ireland creeping in to my soul, and I knew then it would always be part of me. 

After a bit, we landed at the river Shannon, and on a ferry. Bébhinn let us out of the car, but the minute she opened the door, it started to rain on us! It was a short rain, though, only lasting about 30 minutes--the time it took us to cross the river! 

On the other side of the Shannon, we drove on, past the Kerry butter and cheese factory, and through tiny villages with even tinier streets and bright, colorful buildings. We loved those towns, and it seemed almost mean that Bébhinn crawled through them at a snail's pace but wouldn't stop. She did offer to stop briefly for the restroom, and then thought better of it--once you let this group out of the car, it was like herding cats to get them back in!

"It's not that far to Dingle," she reasoned, and we were fine with it.

Margie and Brian taught us a game, where you had to say a letter that could spell a word without completing the word. Everybody got really in to it, and it made me love the Shinners even more, because they always a game to play or a way to pass the time. And I was really loving our little group, how close we'd all become in such a short amount of time.

We drove through the adorable towns of Listowel, and Tralee, home of the annual Rose of Tralee pageant. It's kind of like a beauty pageant/talent competition for Irish girls, or girls of Irish descent, and every year it turns the sleepy little town into a boom town. The pageant was next week, and the streets were adorned with banners, posters and signs that lit up at night, all welcoming the contestants.

And then we were climbing a mountain! After a quick turn out of Tralee, we passed Brandon Mountain, Ireland's second highest peak. (I love that about Ireland! Everything is celebrated, even if it's only the second highest, or the fourth most...) We drove up the Conor Pass, a tiny, windy road about four feet wide--and it's a TWO-WAY ROAD!! I am not even kidding you! 

We got stuck behind a van running interference for a biking tour (and actually giving a lift to one tired biker). I love this shot of the biker, the van, and the unimpressed sheep on the roadside.

The van finally pulled as far off to the side as it could, allowing us to pass (thankfully, no one was coming down the road.) With the van out of the way, we could focus on the spectacular view of the valley below us.

And we could see the road ahead. 

Bébhinn pulled over near a waterfall and announced the second hike of the day. I stood to get out of the car, and my knee announced I was not hiking anywhere at all. (It was fine while I was moving, but swelled up from all the sitting afterwards.)

I contented myself with checking out the waterfall. 

And to be honest, even if my knee was not hurt, I doubt I'd have done the hike. Because 1. Of course it started raining the minute we got out of the car, and 2. Look at this "hike"! It was UP A ROCKY MOUNTAIN! A mountain SLICK WITH RAIN! How many times was I gonna take my klutzy chances? I'd already survived the Cliffs of Moher without falling, so I ended my hikes for the day on a positive note.

And I wasn't alone. Most of the ladies in our group  hid in the car from the rain, while Bébhinn took the guys and Ashley up the rocky mountainside. Nate and Ben raved about it, and how they could see a hidden lake from the top.

And then it was time for our last stop of the day, Dingle Town. We had to clear the Conor Pass, and then we were just minutes away from Dingle. 

Um, did I mention that this was a TWO-WAY ROAD??? And do you notice the flimsy wood and wire "fence" in the photo above? That is the *safety barrier* for Conor Pass!

Bébhinn proved again what a skilled driver she is. She coaxed that Rover up the hill, and I tried (unsuccessfully) not to look over the side of the road. At one point, the road narrowed considerably, so much so that the car was scraping against shrubs growing out of the mountainside. On the other side, that flimsy little fence was all that held us from tumbling 800 feet down into valley, and the lake inside it. And just to add a little excitement, there were two cars also coming down the Conor Pass at that same moment.

It was more than I could take--I closed my eyes and put all my faith in Bébhinn. And she rocked it!!! The other cars stopped, pulled over as far as they could along the edge, and Bébhinn punched it, sending the Rover over the pass. 

I needed a drink by the time we reached the top!

But I got an even better reward--a view of the valley leading to Dingle!

Twenty minutes later, we were in Dingle, a town of 2000 people and 54 pubs. It was adorable, more bright shops and pubs, and boats galore. 

Bébhinn gave us an impromptu tour on the way to the hotel, pointing out the local hardware store/pub, the statue of Fungi the dolphin (Fungi loves to show off for the boats and kayakers!), and a few pubs with good music sessions. It looked like a super cute town, and we were excited to stay here for two consecutive nights. (The moving everyday thing was getting old quick.)

Then Bébhinn drove us out to our hotel. It wasn't far, maybe a 10 minute walk, but I almost cried when I saw how far it was from town. It actually wasn't far at all, maybe a mile, but my throbbing knee told me there was no way I'd make it to town and back on foot. And so the girl who hates to miss a night out on the town did, in fact, miss a night out on the town. :-(

We settled into our room, and as much as it killed me, I told Amber to have a good time. She went to dinner with the group, and I settled in with an ice bag, room service fish chowder with soda bread, and some really bad Irish TV reality shows. 

Amber said it was a very quiet dinner. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who got smacked down by the Cliffs of Moher! But it didn't matter--my knee hurt and I was exhausted, but I was also happy, deliriously happy, at all the amazing things I'd seen today. 

And even more so, I was content. Content because we were only two and a half days into this tour, and already, I was already so close to this group of people that it felt like we'd been roaming the Earth together in a Land Rover forever. 

Life was definitely good.

Day 6: Ballynahinch to Liscannor Lots of driving!

We were supposed to take a boat to the Aran Islands this morning, but the weather had other plans. The wind arrived, churning the seas into violent, white-capped waves, until the captains had no choice but to cancel all the boats.

We were definitely bummed. The Aran Islands, a set of three small islands outside of Galway Bay, are a highlight for many tourists. We'd looked forward to exploring the islands on bike, or by jaunting cart. 

The upside was that we got to spend more time at the castle, exploring the grounds. After the fanciest breakfast ever (linen napkins and fine china! Scones and clotted cream! A formally-dressed waiter serving tea and coffee in our own personal silver pots), we hit the walking trails.

All around us, fishermen were gearing up for the day. The fishing pole rack was empty as we passed by on our way to breakfast, and fisherman were all over the castle grounds. They wore high boots, waders and slickers, and were carefully mounting poles onto their cars. 

The poles were so long, it took a special mount on the outside of the car to transport them!  

Amber and I wandered the gorgeous castle grounds, posing for photos by the river in the rain. We sloshed along the muddy river path, into a thick, beautiful forest. It was so quiet, silent except for the gentle rain falling around us (and our giddy laughter).  

Then, too soon, it was time to start our day. I wasn't exactly sure of our alternate itinerary, but Bébhinn had a full day planned for us. 

Our first stop was a hawthorn tree by a river. Bébhinn reminded us how superstitious the Irish are when it comes to fairies, and said the hawthorns are known as the fairy trees. Irish people never cut down a hawthorn tree, and even diverted an entire freeway once so as not to disturb a hawthorn tree and fairy fort. (The local city councilman said that if the fairies were disturbed, many people would die on the ensuing freeway.)

Bébhinn told us how people made wishes to the fairies via the hawthorn tree. They tie rags to the branches, and when the rags fall off, the fairies grant the wishes. It was pretty cool to see the adorned tree out there in the middle of nowhere.

We drove on, until Bébhinn stopped along a rocky path. She was reading her map, but we saw that road as an opportunity.

"Off road! Off road!" the entire group started chanting. We had a Land Rover, and we wanted to use it!

Bébhinn hopped out of the car, telling us to stay put. We thought she was blowing us off, but she was really unhooking the luggage trailer. She climbed back in, turned the Vagatron toward the stones, and off we went, screaming with delight!

It was bumpy, and fun. This was definitely NOT gonna be your average bus tour! 

Bébhinn eventually turned us back around, and stopped 100 yards short of the main road. All around us were stacks of mud bricks, which Bébhinn explained were peat, used for fuel. The peat is made mostly of water and layers of grass and plants, and takes 2,000 years to compress a layer an inch thick.

"Leave it to the Irish to create a heat source out of water!" Bébhinn laughed.

The local people are assigned a part of the swampy bog to carve out hunks of peat, which they then cut up into bricks, and stacked to dry. It takes the entire summer to dry out the bricks, and really, it's the wind that dries them, not the sun. (We drove through some towns where people were burning the peat, and it smelled God-awful! It also has the added benefit of being dangerous to your health, as it contains high levels of carbon.)

Bébhinn showed us how the farmers sliced through the bog, and passed around a peat brick. She also showed us how surprisingly springy the bog was by jumping up and down on it.

"Come on, guys, who wants to do a little bog jumping?" she called out, and we all responded by running onto the bog.

It really was bouncy! Bébhinn warned us to watch our step, so as not to fall into the water below. She said it was nearly impossible to climb out of that!

We climbed back into the Vagatron, happy and giddy. A giant tour bus passed by, and the tourists inside stared at us and our Land Rover. We waved at them, laughing that we were having way more fun on our adventure.

It was on the road again, on down to a little artist's village in Spiddal. 

It was so cute, with colorful little buildings, and food vendors selling lovely baked goods and hot coffee.

I wandered through the stores a bit, but what really caught my eye were the surfers in the ocean just across the street. It was a little chilly out, and I figured it must be even colder out there in the waves! (Turns out Bébhinn is a surfer, and she said it's not the surfing part that's cold, it's the coming out of the water at the end of surfing that's brutal!)

Then it was back in the car for some more driving, this time through Galway city, and around Galway Bay, finally stopping to see Dunguaire Castle, then for lunch in Kinvara.

Next up was a fairy fort. Bébhinn said most Irish people wouldn't set foot in a fairy fort, for fear of offending the fairies. She reminded us to be respectful, and to tell the fairies we meant them no harm. I'm not gonna lie, the fairies were starting to freak me out a little. These were not the cute little fairies (like Tinkerbell) that I always envisioned!

As I climbed over the staircase into the fort, I did as Bébhinn said, silently telling the fairies that I meant them no harm. I must've repeated that about a million times.

The fairy fort was really just a small circular clearing bordered by a dirt wall about six feet tall. We walked up the wall, and across it. Or, in Ashley's case, danced across it like a fairy. 

There was a stump of a hawthorn tree in the middle of the clearing, with rags tied to it. I wanted a closer look, so I took the first path down into the little valley.

Or rather, the path took me! I tripped a little on a root, lost my balance, and tried quickly to correct it. The result was me flying down the path out of control, at breakneck speed, and almost landing on my face.

My first thought was "Oh my God, the fairies pushed me down the hill!!!" Seriously, I even turned around, half expecting to see the snickering sprite who did it. 

My second thought (directed at the fairies) was "I mean you no harm." That was also my third, fourth and fifth thought, and I repeated it the whole time we were in the fort. I honestly meant the fairies no harm, and yet, they tried to kill me within five minutes of stepping into their fort!

The other odd thing about the fairy fort was the weather. It was calm and still when we got there, so much so that I left my jacket in the car. But 10 minutes into our visit, the wind started up, and it was awful. Icy hurricane-force gales blew us all around, whipping our hair and jackets around, and raising goosebumps on our skin. It was freezing cold, and the wind was LOUD, ringing through our ears, forcing us to yell to each other. 

Eventually the wind won. We were chilled to the bone, and couldn't take it anymore, so we gathered up the group and climbed back out of the fort. And then the weirdest thing happened--the wind stopped. Completely. As if it never existed. 

We stood next to the Land Rover, and Mary said, "Hey, the wind is gone. What happened?"

We'd crossed 10 feet to the car, and standing in the hot sun, the air was still as could be. We all looked around at each other, eyes wide, and quickly climbed into our Vagatron.

"I'm surprised you went into the fort," I said to Bébhinn, as we drove away. "I thought you said Irish people wouldn't go in them." I knew from the magpies how superstitious Bébhinn is.

"I have a mantra I always say before I go in," Bébhinn answered. "For protection." 

I recalled my near-spill and the cold, biting winds, and thought maybe Bébhinn could have shared her mantra with us all!

We headed toward the hills, to the Burren region and Poulnabrone Dolmen, a megalithic stone tomb. We drove through fields of sheep and cows up into the Burren, and Bébhinn told us that the cows here grew huge because of the rich limestone under the grass. The limestone was also visible above ground, creating a weird, lunar-like landscape. (Well, that's what the guide books all say--it just looked like really rocky land to me!)

Everybody hopped out and ran off to see the tomb, a giant rock slab stacked atop other rocks. We took a lot of pictures, admired the landscape and the fields of sheep in the distance, and then climbed back aboard the Vagatron.

Our next stop was supposed to be the Cliffs of Moher--Bébhinn really wanted to get us out on a walk after a full day of driving. However, she kept checking the weather, and was very concerned about the winds--the same wind that stopped us from visiting the Aran Islands. She was afraid it would be too dangerous to walk the Cliffs, and when we pulled into Doolin, I could see why.

Doolin is across the bay from the Cliffs, and boy, was that bay churning! I was actually grateful the captains had cancelled our trip, because it took just one look at those waves to know I'd have spent the entire ferry ride vomiting. (I get seasick just standing on the pier--I am NOT a good sailor!)

We tried to walk across the parking lot to get a better look at the Cliffs. The wind pushed us violently, and it took great effort to even walk across the lot. 

From Doolin, we could see the giant waves smacking against the Cliffs, some so high they sent a sea spray blast ABOVE the Cliffs! (Which was quite a feat, because the Cliffs of Moher are 700 feet high!)

We stood on the rocks taking photos as the waves crashed next to us, and the wind tried to send us flying. Just standing there felt like we were really fighting the elements!

Bébhinn gathered us up and came up with the best idea of the day--a visit to the pub! She was met with a great cheer from the group, but she sternly warned us we only had time for one drink. We agreed we would be fast.

And here is when Bébhinn first realized we are a fun group, but not necessarily a group that listens well. This became a running theme for the rest of the trip.

Bébhinn dropped us off at a pub, then went off to park the Vagatron. We ordered a round of drinks--tall pints of beers, some Irish coffees, a couple hard ciders. Now, remember, this is Ireland, so a pint really is a pint (16 ounces!). It's not a wimpy American "pint" (12 ounces).

So we sat sipping our drinks and socializing--I really liked our group, they were funny and interesting. And loud! And they only got louder with each sip. Bébhinn gave us as long as she could, then finished up her energy drink and ran off to get the Land Rover. 

That lone drink hit us hard, and the tired group that entered the pub turned into a much more boisterous crowd leaving the pub. We stood outside laughing, and joking, and then someone asked, "Where's Linda?"

We did a quick head count, and sure enough, Linda was missing! I don't know how, she'd followed us outside, but now, sure enough, she was missing.

"She's back in the pub," Mary said. "I tried to get her out, but she didn't want to leave."

Margie nudged her husband Brian and said, "Go get your sister."

Brian finally emerged with Linda, who did not come willingly. And with good reason--the minute she stepped back into the pub, three Irish men chatted her up. She was loving it, and shared this hilarious exchange she had with them.

Irish man to Linda: Where are you from?

Linda: Chicago. But my family's originally from Ireland--do you know any Shinners?

Irish man: No, I heard they all moved to Chicago!

We couldn't stop laughing and teasing Linda. By the time Bébhinn returned with the Vagatron, she couldn't believe how loud we'd all become.

"Why, you've only had one drink then, haven't ya?" she said. "Glad we didn't stay long enough for two!"

Lucky for Bébhinn, it was only a short drive to our last stop of the day, Liscannor (Liss-CANN-or). It was barely even a town, just a street mainly, and a very small one, with only a few houses, a hotel and two pubs on it.

After a quick hotel check-in (and a demo for Linda on how to turn the room lights on!), the group met at the restaurant next door. We walked in to a packed house, which surprised me, since there weren't any cars parked outside, and it didn't even look like that many people lived in the whole town! 

Dinner was fantastic--fresh seafood and cute little shots of curry soup that the chef sent out. Just like the night before, though, we were LOUD. I'm pretty sure Bébhinn would only book us in busy pubs for dinner after that night.

We walked over to the pub after dinner. The pub's front window was filled with corks, which Linda and I wanted our picture with. However, as Linda climbed up to the window, she overstepped a bit, smacking her head on the glass. 

She laughed, unhurt, and I started cracking up, too. Still laughing as we walked into the pub, I pushed the door, which was lighter than it looked, and it went flying open with a crash. I walked in, missing the downward sloping step, and tripped a little, followed by an also-laughing Linda. That's right, the Loud Americans literally stumbled into the pub, which was filled with maybe 5 very quiet patrons, all of whom were now staring at us.

We said hello to the locals, grabbed a table and ordered up some drinks. Brian tossed some dice onto the table, and taught us a game I was terrible at (it involved math!). But we were having a good time in the nearly empty pub, playing dice and hanging out with our new best friends.

The rest of the Vagabonders joined us, and we pulled up another table. But then, 20 minutes later, a very polite Irish kid came in, carrying a keyboard he put our table. Apparently, we chose the one table in the whole pub that the band uses!

We were so excited to hear there'd be live music, we willingly gave up the table, pulling the short stools off to the side. More musicians came in--a man and a woman with guitars, a grizzled man with a banjo, a much younger guy with a fiddle, a middle-aged man singer, and an older woman with heavy eye makeup who looked like a church lady. She sat down at the keyboard, fluttered her eyelashes, and smiled a big fake smile at us. She scanned the room, taking in the scene and all its people, then smiled and fluttered her eyelashes again.

And then, I'm not sure how it happened, but I looked up and the entire pub was full! I swear, it was like somebody sounded the alarm, and the whole town came running. Every inch of the pub was full--all the tables, stools, bar space, and every part of the floor in between it all.

The band was amazing. They weren't your typical band so much as a group of individual performers who came together to jam. (We found out later was exactly the case.) They took turns--each person got a chance to sing, while the others backed them up musically.

The songs were sad, all of them, full of tough times, pain, and loneliness. They sang of family leaving, and family dying, and it broke my heart, all of it. The young man who brought in the keyboard stood and crooned a song about leaving for New York during the famine, and it was like a knife twisting into my heartstrings.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any sadder, the whole pub started singing along, and the collective voice almost made me cry. When they sang "Hard Times Come No More," you could feel the pain of those hard times in every voice. It was as sad as it was moving.

But never fear, it wasn't all sadness and heaviness. The Diva was our favorite. She played the keyboard dramatically, long fingers and flowing sleeves sweeping across the keys, fake smile plastered on her face. She scanned the room continually, and if you weren't paying attention, she shushed you! I'm serious. Right in the middle of the song, she fluttered her eyelashes, smiled and told us, "Shhhhhhh."

"Look at her," Amber whispered. "She knows everything going on in this pub right now, and exactly what everyone's doing!"

We weren't the only ones to get shushed. (And come on, who expects to be shushed IN A BAR???) But she was on it, even shushing her son, the keyboard carrier/crooner, and shaking her fist at him playfully when he added loud but appropriate laughter to a song. Diva even shushed her female band mate, who dared to ask her the next song!

The only time she didn't tell us to pipe down was when she piped up. That's right, she got to sing solo, too, but when it was her turn, she stood up so everyone could see her (all the other singers sat in their seats). Diva belted her songs out, still eyeing the crowd for noisy hooligans, and it was a sight to see for sure!

Meanwhile, Linda was seriously cracking me up again. She wanted to buy our group a round of drinks, so I went to help carry them. She ordered the drinks, but was surprised when it came time to pay.

"You take credit cards, right?" she asked the bartender of the world's tiniest small-town rural pub.

The barkeep shook her head and replied, "Cash only."

Linda reached into her purse. "OK, you take American dollars, then, huh?"

The barkeep shook her head again.

"What?" Linda asked, incredulous. "You only take Euros? I don't have any!" 

I couldn't help giggling--she'd been in the country for THREE DAYS, how could she NOT have any money yet???

"You really don't take American dollars?" she asked again.

"It's not America, it's Ireland!" I said, pulling out my Euros. "Here, I've got it."

I started to hand over the money but Linda stopped me, intent on paying. "I'll give her American dollars, it's OK." 

The barkeep just shook her head again.

"When was the last time you paid with Euros in Chicago?" I asked Linda, and she said, "Never!" 

I looked at her like, "YEAH!" but she just stared back at me like "What?" 

Finally, Linda accepted the money, but only after swearing it was only a loan, and that she would pay me back no matter what, and she could write me a check. 

"It's OK, Linda, I know where you're staying for the next week!" I laughed. "I'm not worried!" 

She even tried making me take a picture of her driver's license to use as collateral, which made me laugh even more. (She finally stopped when I told her I was gonna sell the license photo on EBay.)

While all the hilarious money drama was going on, a man started singing a Paul Simon song, and Linda lit up. 

"Oooooh, I know this song!" she said, and singing along at the bar. We got all our drinks just as the song ended, and carried them carefully back to our group.

"You just missed Brian singing!" Amber whispered, and I laughed so loud the Diva shushed me. It was Linda's own BROTHER singing, but all she recognized was the song!

People watching in the pub was fantastic. There was a group of older women, maybe six or seven of them, all dressed up and sipping half-pints of beer like ladies. They sang along to all the songs, and really enjoyed themselves, except for one older woman with a very pinchy face, who was propped straight up in her seat, sleeping. She looked mad, even in her sleep, maybe because it was past her bedtime, but still, she slept on. (Turns out they were sisters on their annual girls' weekend--what fun!)

We stood when the music stopped, shocked to see it was already midnight! We had a big hiking day, and figured (like the pinchy-faced sister) it was time for bed.

But the moment we stood up, all the people surrounded us! One of the singers came to talk to us, and a swarm of fellow teachers Linda had befriended, began to talk, too. Amber talked to the sisters (she loved them!) and I had to tell the Keyboard Kid how great he and his mom were.

The singer stopped us again by the door.

"That was just our first set," he said. "We're playing another."

We were just so surprised--here we thought everyone was shushing us, and now they all wanted to talk to us! But they were just being respectful to the musicians, which I totally understand (and honestly, we were never THAT loud--the musicians were all sitting two feet in front of us!).

We almost stayed--neither Amber nor I likes to miss a party--but we'd had a full day, and we really did have to get up early (and Mary and I were burning up in front of the pub fireplace!). I was afraid if I stayed, I wouldn't leave till sunrise!

Brian and Linda stayed a bit longer, and actually got locked IN THE BAR! I guess the pub has to close at a certain time, so the barkeep just locks the door so no one else can come in. But anybody who's already inside can stay--which is what Brian and Linda did!

As tired as we were, it took Amber and I forever to fall asleep that night. We'd traveled a long way and saw sooooooooo many things, and topped it off with the best night ever in a real Irish pub, with real traditional Irish musicians. 

It took so long to finally drift off, because really, what dreams could ever top a day like that??