"What's your nationality please?", said the border guard at Rosslare Harbour.
"Irish!", I proudly declared.
"Come in on in and welcome home", he said!
To be fair my English mates were also made very welcome (but without the "welcome home" bit) and the only disappointment was that I didn't even have to show my newly minted Irish passport. He took my word for it. Welcome to Ireland. Failte!
So here were are, on the Emerald Isle for a 10 day motorbike trip - cue miles of twisty roads, endless u-turns, getting lost repeatedly, fabulous scenery, friendly greetings ... and of course some Guinness and whiskey to end each day. What could possibly go wrong?
There has been little time for blogging, but I hope to bash out a few while I am here. If only to share the utterly stupid selfies taken by the man with the longest arms, Rob. This one at St Davids Cathedral, in ... St Davids.
Remarkably, we are now on the south west corner of Ireland and we have yet to see rain! Blue cloudless skies has been the default position and long may it continue. But this is not known as the Emerald Isle for nothing and if we go much further without a drenching we will be very lucky.
Journey's beginning was, as usual, at some random cafe somewhere roughly equidistant between Hove and Hertfordshire, in this case, just outside Reading. An 11.30am rendezvous for the now traditional fry up to get us used to the increased cholesterol and fat intake required of these trips. Followed by an approximate following of the River Thames to its source in Gloucestershire before crossing the border into Wales and a bed for the first night in Brecon. Which meant I had ridden over 230 miles on the first day and a curry was an absolute necessity. And a couple of pints of Welsh Guinness, which I can now definitely report is not as good as the Irish stuff! Can't think why I slept so well in my well appointed Wetherspoons room bagged for 40 quid!
Inevitably a castle had to be visited on the way, and Eric had chosen (Rob and I get absolutely no say in these decisions) Raglan, just across the border in Wales. Luckily English Heritage membership is accepted and only Rob, being a bit of plonker and having not renewed his, was required to pay. He is good for taking selfies though!
A better view of Raglan Castle
A quick tea and selfie stop with Eric's mother-in-law in Carmarthen (mostly to get Eric the requisite brownie points with his wife), and recorded here as I know Helen follows every word of this junk, got us to Pembroke dock via the smallest city in Britain for our afternoon ferry across the Irish Sea. Hope you are simply delighted to feature in one of our selfies on this blog Linda!
St David's (the smallest city...) was of course charming but as usual we had left ourselves too little time so a quick whizz round the cathedral with the sloping nave and non vertical columns as as much as we could manage. And of course, no, I have no idea why the nave slopes or the columns don't fall down. But its been there a while so I guess it will survive a few more centuries. Nice church!
A brief view of dolphins on the bow of the ferry was the highlight of an otherwise calm and unremarkable crossing and before we knew it we were in Rosslare, being welcomed home! And that only left a reasonably short hour or so's dash to Waterford for the night, where we duly arrived in time for our first pint of the black stuff (not Eric, he hates it) and a suitably refined pub meal, which did not involve chips, honest.
Next morning's walk around the rather charming centre of Waterford found the largest wooden sculpture in the world, a viking longsword, this having been settled by the vikings ... er, a long time ago! (Eric says, it was Ragnol in 914, but he could be talking b****cks).
Then a whizz round the Waterford Crystal Centre, where I was of course tempted to part with €24,000 for this!
Some beautiful stuff and I wish we had had time to do the factory tour and watch the amazingly skilled craftspeople making this stuff - but a bit too elaborate for me - and too expensive! And so we left Waterford for a fast 100km dash west via Youghal, setting for the filming of the 1954 film "Moby Dick" directed by John Huston and staring Gregory Peck as Captain Ahab. Great little seaside town.
Then a ferry across Lough Mahon and a bypass of Cork to Blarney Castle where we couldn't face the ludicrous queue to kiss bit of stone, and contract some unmentionable disease (or probably covid) from someone else's spit! We contented ourselves with a walk round lovely gardens and sufficient ice cream for a hurling team (I don't actually know how many are in a hurling team, but I am assuming it is a lot more than 3!).
The Blarney Stone is up there
Which then took us to our penultimate stop of the day, Kinsale Head, the site roughly 13km to the south of the u-boat sinking of the Lusitania in 1915 during the First World War. Almost 1200 people perished and it was witnessed from the land as it took place so close, in good weather and in the afternoon. Locals mustered every available boat and rescued over 700, testament to the kindness of humanity. It was a very moving place and absolutely worth missing the kissing of the Blarney Stone to get there in time.
The sign of the Wild Atlantic Way, at the Lusitania Memorial.
Today we have visited Skibereen and been reminded of the opposite - humanity's capacity for utter cruelty, but my thoughts on the potato famine in the mid 19th century will have to wait until I have a little more time.
Yesterday ended with our first proper Irish pub to stay in. O'Donovan's in Clonakilty was everything we hoped for and expected - decent rooms, good food, Guinness, whiskey and live music. Must have been good because we were still in the bar at well gone midnight! As far as I remember!
Luckily today was a late start, after the obligatory full Irish, after a walk round the town, where Michael Collins once lived (he was born just up the road).
More of that when I next put fingers to keyboard, along with the exceptionally moving visit to the famine heritage centre in Skibereen. That will do for now, we have only covered about 170km or just over 100 miles today. Short day for us, but allowing us time to explore another delightful little town, with a range of Irish pubs - one of which we are staying in! Last few pictures...
A typical view
A typical breakfast
A typical pose! Me, Eric and Captain Ahab.
A typical pair of fools in Waterford
And another
An atypical healthy breakfast. We do try sometimes
Excellent stuff !
I cannot believe for one minute that the customs guy/lady thought that you (with that accent) are a native of the Emerald Isle!!!
Also, I’m looking at the look of indignation on Eric’s face above, as if to say “what do you mean, I have this for breakfast everyday back home”!!!!!