'Tis grand - part 2

On Sunday, we were faced with an entire day to do something different. I had looked at the map and found that the Beara Peninsula had a road around it in the way that the Ring of Kerry does, and it is easily accessed from Kenmare. At Kenmare I bought a nifty new cap to replace one that I had lost in London years ago. Then we went to a coffee shop for coffee and fruit scones with cream. I had heard that Kenmare had a mass grave and memorial to Famine victims, but there was no sign of that, so we moved on. The Beara Peninsula is scenic but very underdeveloped - you don't see a real town until you've gone to the south side around Bear Island. There was a park that they put up signs for, so we headed for that on a road that was about 6 inches wider than my car. Fortunately, we did not have to encounter any other car going the opposite way.

The park includes a waterfall and a trail up to a stone circle. The ground was so marshy that it was a real challenge to make it up the hill with dry feet. The trouble was worth it because the stone circle was magnificent and there were only a few other people there. We could have driven to get a better view of the waterfall, but the road back was making me nervous so we headed on.
We had planned to lunch at Castlemainbere, but the restaurants were mostly closed due to Sunday and/or off-season, so we headed on. I stopped for deisel and paid the approximately 8$ per gallon - fortunately, the Toyota was really easy on fuel. We found a thriving shopping street at Ballylicky, and stopped at a hotel there for an excellent carvery lunch.

We got as far as Bantry, and walked around the docks for a time. We wanted to get back at a decent hour because I would be cooking the boiling bacon and would need some time. By the time we got back to Kenmare, the town was completely overrun with Ring of Kerry tourists, so I followed directions on a map to take a road that circled around to the east of the mountains, and got us back to Killarney in a way that would avoid the nightmare mountain road and downtown Killarney. I had a few tense moments, but the strategy worked perfectly. When we got to Tralee, we stopped by TESCO for a second round of groceries. I found my favorite Irish beer, Curim Gold, and we also picked up everything we'd need for a spaghetti dinner later in the week. I also picked up some reasonably priced steaks - we later found out why they were so affordable.




Back home the boiling bacon came out fantastic, and we got ready to go to work at the library the next day.







We were up at 7, so both of us got dressed and walked down to the beach. It was a beautiful sunny day, but we had the entire place to ourselves. When the tide is in (it was for our entire time), you had to walk east to the pedestrian bridge and cross the dunes. Once there, we could see down to the houses at Castlegregory and across Tralee Bay to Fenit. Then it was off to Tralee to turn ourselves in for digitizing work. We first had the pleasant surprise that if you get to the library as they are opening there is plenty of street parking. We went straight to the local history room and checked in with the two Michaels - Lynch the Archivist and Costello the Local History librarian.


The scanning equipment was ready to go except for the fact that the computer was not connected to the network. Michael could have plugged it back in, but there was a big switchboard device with 30 openings, and he didn't want to risk it. A call to our old friend Declan from the county produced a promise to come by soon and straighten it out. In anticipation of the expected delay we went out to the bakery for scones. Afterwards, we set out to find our old friend Brian, who had worked for the Quinnipiac Tralee Facility when there was one. When last I saw him, he mentioned to check at the Sportsfield Bar - I had the impression that he lived in the overhead apartment. After some confusion, we did find the bar at the end of the street. I tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. Seconds later a man rushes out - it was Brian himself. Not only that, but he was wearing his old Quinnipiac t-shirt. Pretty good coincidence when you consider that he did not live there, and hadn't visited in weeks.

Back at the library, the machine was working, so we got down to scanning - first, scanning some missing weeks from Killarney. The machine worked well, but it made a slapping noise with every image that I didn't like. After an hour of that, it was time to go to my favorite Tralee lunch spot - the Grand Hotel. Even though they are twice as elegant as anything else around, their lunches cost about the same as any pub. Unfortunately, that's now 10 Euro ($15.90), and go from there if you get a pint. At least at the Grand you could get 2.50 knocked off for taking a "half portion," which turned out to be almost more than I could eat.

Then we headed over to the shopping pedestrian mall and bought an Irish pay-as-you-go cell phone for a modest 49 Euro (with a thousand minutes pre-loaded). By the time we had it charged that afternoon, we were back in communication.

We kept scanning until closing time. Donna was my page turner, and sometimes she would get completely caught up in the drama of what was being written. That would really make a difference the next day when we started scanning weeks from Kenmare.

Months before we left, I got an email from Mike O'Neill, proprietor of the Railway Tavern in Camp. In 2004, my Irish friend Padraig Kennelly had taken me there, and I took pictures in and near the pub. These were found on Google Earth by O'Neill, who had forgotten my connection with Padraig. We made a note to revisit the tavern and reconnect. We did more reconnecting than we had bargained on - Mike called Padraig to let him know we were here. Padraig had been fighting some major health issues, so we were thrilled to see him, as he came into the tavern with his long-time friend Michael. We talked some old and then very old times. Then the pair took us to a nearby seafood restaurant called the Seven Hogs, named after the Magharee Islands. A wonderful dinner and unbeatable company. Among other things, Padraig gave me an excellent lead. He mentioned that the Kerry Library had at least one newspaper that covered the Famine events. Padraig's favorite saying is that "A day out of Kerry is a day wasted." We can't argue. Padraig is a highly successful newspaper publisher, but he has been known to tell people that his main occupation is that of rainbow chaser. We hope he chases many, many more.

On Tuesday we asked for copies of the Kenmare Minute books beginning with 1845. We noticed immediate differences between the two towns. Killarney Guardians met every week and took very detailed notes. The Kenmare people had only been meeting once a month and took fairly sketchy notes - no details about provisions for the workhouse like we used to see with Killarney. In the early fall of 1845, the sense of absolute panic was more evident here. The first problem they noted was not an increase in inmates (that would come later), but the fact that the potato failure had caused the price of all food to spike. They couldn't afford to feed the paupers they already had. By October they were meeting once a week or more, and trying to devise some sort of creative financing to do the work they needed to do.

We left somewhat early in the afternoon and headed back along the Conor pass road to revisit some of our places from years past. On the way back from Cloghane, we stopped at another ancient burial ground with unkempt stones going back to the Famine era and sweeping views of the bay and Mt. Brandon. On the way back, we did something we always do here - visited the cheese shop on the hill between Cloghane and Castlegregory. This is run by a couple from France who make homemade cheeses and pates. If you want to try seaweed cheese, this is for you.

On Wednesday, we scanned more of Kenmare. By this point, they were dealing with the double bind - rising food prices and hordes of people wanting to come in. They had taken out loans to buy the extra food, and now the bank was losing patience with them. At one point they were threatening to close down the workhouse. They also decided to forego elections and just keep going as a group. The descriptions of the conditions in the workhouse were much more direct and brutal than what we had seen in Killarney. Almost everyone in the workhouse was sick with fever, and the floors were so porous that they soaked up the considerable body fluids that were spilling over, ensuring that there was scant chance of anyone getting better.

On a lighter note, we had heard on the radio that Tralee would be the scene for the m

ajor Irish bicycle road race that afternoon. We took time from scanning to head for the center of town to watch that happen. I'd never seen a European bike race, so this was exciting as the motorcycles and police cars raced through the streets ahead of the stage leader who was wearing the recognizable colors of the Irish team. Minutes later we went to the platform and heard the speeches as the stage leader was given the yellow jersey, roses and a kiss from the pretty girl.

After finishing off the days' scans, we headed back west and stopped again at the Railway. As we sat down and enjoyed our Guinness and Carlsbergs, we continued our conversation with Michael about the Well of the Mad. A Dutch couple at the next table was soon in the conversation as well. Michael looked around to find his wife, and set her up to run the bar. "Finish your drinks," he said. "I'm going to take the lot of you to the Well. Somehow, we all fit in his car and headed up the road from Camp to Dingle. At the first right he turned down one of those roads that are barely wider than the car. The well was just as we remembered it from 2004, but this time we had expert help. Michael had phoned Bridget who lives nearby and acts as the guardian of the well. She gave us a rundown on the history of the well, which had been tagged as a cure for madness many centuries ago. Later, people came from the university and analyzed the water, which turned out to contain a high proportion of lithium - the substance that is commonly given to the chronically depressed. Afterwards, we went home and cooked the steaks from TESCO. I had forgotten a rule that I had formulated years ago - "Stay away from the beef here." It was tough as a boot.