Tales of Ireland, Part II

Continuing on, then...

Sunday rolled around, and we elected to go and make the hike to Three Castle Head. To get there, you go to the end of the road (as designated by the ably-placed STOP sign, and the fact that the road abruptly terminates above the sea-cliffs), and then hike across a few pastures, up a steep hill, and then across to a lake, where the castle ruins are located. The story goes that the lake is haunted, although I was unable to find out why. Still, the hike across the countryside, and the general isolation of the area was wonderful. Dalton had a great time running up and down the hill after we had thoroughly explored the ruins, and we all agreed that it was definitely one of the highlights of our trip.

On Monday, Mich and I agreed that it was time to re-visit Blarney Castle. We had been on our previous trip ten years prior, but we didn't do anything other than climb the Castle to kiss the Blarney Stone, and then exit. We also wanted our kids to have the chance to kiss the Stone themselves. In case you weren't aware, the Stone is located at the bottom of one of the parapets overhanging the grounds, and so there is someone there to hold you while you lie down and lean over backwards to kiss the Stone. Maggie was too frightened by this prospect to try it (which, given the rate at which she talks, may be a good thing), whereas we managed to get Dalton to give it a smooch, and of course, Mich and I did the same. Therefore, if you notice a sudden increase in my eloquence, I suggest that may be the cause. On our way back to the house, we stopped off in Kinsale, which is a pretty little harbour town, and found Daltons Bar. I think that was also the day of the "Skibbereen Eagle" incident, which my children are still laughing about.

Mich had bought a cookbook in Kinsale, and at some juncture, she requested that I stop the car so she could take a picture. While she was out photographing, I picked up the cookbook and started flipping through it. The subsequent conversation went something like this:

Maggie: What was that noise?
Me: (somewhat absently) What noise?
Maggie: (makes sound)
Me: (looking through the cookbook and finding an unusually titled recipe) Skibbereen Eagles.
Maggie: What are they?
Me: What are what?
Maggie: Skibbereen Eagles.
Me: They're something you eat.
Dalton: Well, how can they make that noise if they're dead?

This was followed by loud laughter, and frequent repetitions of the conversation the remainder of the day, the following day, and continuing on to this week.

Our final full day in Ireland was comprised mainly of a trip out to Baltimore, another cute little harbour town, where we stopped and ate at a little cafe overlooking the harbour. I wanted to catch a boat out to one of the islands, but we were just out of season for that sort of thing, so I had to settle for looking out over the harbour with my crab sandwich and a Murphy's, which wasn't entirely a bad compromise.

The next day began our hectic return home, with leaving the house, heading to the airport, checking into a hotel in London, picking up our bags from the friends we had left them with - and our last English pub meal. As they say, all good things must come to an end, and so I end our Irish tale here.