'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.

'Tis grand: or, In the Footsteps of the Famine, part 4

Day 1: The arrival


This was the fourth in a series of business trips to the west of Ireland on behalf of Quinnipiac University. The usual nonsense of checkin, luggage and security seemed almost routine by now. When we got to the international gate, I looked at our plane to see which saint it was named after (each plane in Aer Lingus' fleet is named for a saint - in this case Aoise.) The takeoff took us over the rockaways and out to sea for 6 hours.

I tried all the usual tricks to get to sleep, but nothing worked, so I was faced with a day that would be about 27 hours with no sleep. The first of many happy coincidences came when the first sighting of Irish land took place, I saw an island out the window and thought "This looks like the Blaskets and Slea Head." It was - proof came seconds later when Castlegregory appeared with its tonsil shaped peninsula going down to the Magharee Islands. Once off the plane, the line for passport check was torturous, but it didn't matter because the bags also took forever once we were past that. On arriving in the lobby, we spotted Des Kenny, Quinnipiac's official Irish bookseller, who had graciously offered to get up at 5 AM and pick us up and take us to Galway.
At one point in the past, I had bragged to Des that I could talk digitization in a coma. He happily put that to the test by lining up three meetings with librarians and booksellers on my arrival day. Along the way, he stopped at Yeats' Tower, which we had never seen. It was an absolutely stunning sight in the midst of a dense forest and flowing stream. All I could say was 'Wow' as I wandered around taking many pictures. It was a fabulous reception for the returning eirophiles.

As we arrived in Galway, Des figured out a way for us to take showers at a local fitness club, using a bit of influence. Afterwards, we had a wonderful buffet breakfast at a hotel in Salthill.
Then it was off to the first meeting of the day - a nice chat with the County Librarian of Galway, Pat MacMahon. The only thing worse than Galway traffic is Galway parking, so Des was having fits by the time that we got a spot near library headquarters. Pat was a very soft spoken librarian who was proud of what his library had accomplished in preserving the county's heritage. He had heretofore been completely unaware of Quinnipiac, so the first job was to fix that. After a slow beginning, Pat got to the heart of the matter. He told us that he supports all of the new technologies because they lead people to old and valuable holdings that they never would have encountered without technology. His antiquarian-looking office, lined with shelves overlooks at peaceful river scene. McMahon's inspiration was Galway's first county librarian, Samuel Maguire, who had the foresight to develop a substantial collection of books in the Irish language. In the 1950's, he also published a journal of local history that is an enduring resource for the area. I brought up some possibilities for cooperation that I hope will bear fruit someday.

Afterwards, we went to Kenny books headquarters on Tuam road and looked at the Kenny operation. One part of his second floor is an archive of pictures of every famous author who had walked through their doors when they ran a ground bookstore in downtown Galway. He reached in to one rack and pulled out a picture saying _"Here is a famous librarian for you - Sister Marie Melton from St. John's." I said, sure thing, she was my boss in the 90s when I worked there as a part-time reference librarian.

We were then led to the boardroom where we were shown a major collection of letters from an Irish landloard during the Famine years. This is the kind of collection that anyone would kill for - absolutely one-of-a-kind source materials. The kind of collection that would make us a major player in Irish scholarship. I'd recommend buying it, but I'm not the one to make the big decisions. We then walked a block over to the workshop where Des' brother Gerry does rebinding. We were prepared to give them some business - a pair of Mark Twain first editions in terrible shape that deserved better. We're looking forward to seeing them in their new finery.
Des then dropped us off at our hotel so I could check in, change shirts and lie down for 5 minutes before moving on to the University of Ireland Galway campus to talk with librarians in their special collections department. They have just bought a very expensive scanner, but are still in the process of determining how to proceed with digitization. I explained a bit of what we are doing, and mentioned that when they put things up, we will be happy to link to what they are supplying.

Des took me on a tour of Salthill (where we had stayed in the 1970s as tourists), and then it was on to Tom Kenny's art gallery on High Street. This was in the location that had been, for many years, the Kenny book store. They were preparing for a major opening, so there was much excitement and moving of art objects. By now I was starting to see double or maybe triple after 26 hours without sleep, so Des got me back to the hotel so we could have a blessed hour or two before dinner. We quickly got a wakeup call that we're in a foreign country. First there was the power - nothing was on. They told me that I had to put my key in a key-slot near the door. This got things going, but they went off again after 5 minutes. Then I was told that I had to keep the key there until I left. Then we found out that the TV remote didn't work, and our adapters were only for the UK. After all this waqs settled, we took a brief nap. I woke up not knowing who I was, what time it was, or where I was. Once we sorted all that out, it turned out that we were right on time to change and meet the Kennys' at a bar next to the art gallery. There we sat down for brews with Des and Tom and a sculptor who had produced some very innovative Famine images - he said that the point he tried to make was that the Famine hit all levels of society, not just the poor.

We met Des' wife Anne at a nearby seafood restaurant, and were treated to a fine meal indeed. I had heard from my director that Anne was an absolutely delightful person, and she did not disappoint. Des is a major local celebrity in Galway, and well known at the restaurant. After dinner we went to one more bar for one more drink. At this point, I think I was babbling about my love for Ireland, when Anne asked me to repeat "'Tis grand." I did and knew instantly that this would be the title of my blog for this trip. Thanks, Anne. Des got us back to the hotel where we found out it was now 11 PM. The best thing you can do is to stay up to a normal bedtime, so we were looking perfect. What a day.

Day 2: The Jet Lag

Incredibly, we woke up when we should have. I looked over at my Verizon cell phone. They told me it was activated for foreign travel, but after 12 hours, it was still searching for a signal. The hotel breakfast was surprisingly good - I don't know what is different about eggs in England and Ireland, but theirs are way better than the American egg. Donna had porridge which turned out to be fabulous. Afterwards, we had just time enough to pack up and wait out front for Des to pick us up and take us to the Galway regional airport to pick up our car rental. Our first stop was Ennis, where we would be talking with Maureen Comber from the Clare County Library. Unofrtunately, I did not secure directions, so we parked near downtown and asked at the tourist information booth in the museum. Turns out that we were only a couple of blocks away. This would be a brief visit because Clare has already done a fantastic job in making their historic materials available on the internet. I still think it is valuable to check in with others to make them aware of what we are doing.

Next stop was the town of Doolin on the Northwest coast of the Burren. This was the departure point for a ferry that would take us to the smallest and southernmost Aran Island - Inisheer. We got there early, hoping to take an earlier ferry than the 5:15 passage we'd booked. We found that not only is there no previous run, but ours would be an hour late, so we settled in for relaxing and hiking in a rugged Burren setting. I could see a ruin on the shoreline north of us, so I headed for that. Donna found a flat rock and was soon napping.

After delays piled on more delays, we finally saw our boat, the Happy Hooker, pull up to the dock. There were just 5 or 6 other people going to Inisheer for the night, and the ride out was smooth and brief - just about a half hour. Our host was waiting at the dock, and we were at the guest house within minutes. The lodge had just been built so everything was clean and new. We were at the edge of town, so we soon were working our way up the road to enjoy the beautiful desolation of the Aran Islands. At eight we sat down at the Fisherman's Cottage, a fine dining restaurant that was part of the Slow Food Movement (the opposite of fast food - part of the credo is that they know where all of the food came from), and had a wonderful dinner. Quite a pleasant surprise in an island that doesn't even have a grocery store. Enda and Maria, the owners, are as interesting a couple as you will ever meet. Among other things they owned the beautifully outfitted B&B where we stayed (built by hand by Enda), worked as life counselors, and ran seminars on the slow food movement. Enda also mentioned that he was a licensed chiropactor. As we were walking out of the restaurant, I got out the camera because the sun was setting over Inishmaan and Inishmore. No phone or internet in the guest house, so we walked down to the dock and found a pay phone at the newer pub, so we could check in with our son.

Day 3: On the road



The next morning, we were up bright and early and ready to explore. The ferry back to the mainland wasn't scheduled to pick us up until noon, so we had time to go explore. I started up the hill to reach the castle, but it turned out like Kafka's castle. The more we walked up the hill, the further the castle became. We went all the way back down and tried again. We got directions from the man at the older pub, and headed up the right way. Donna was joined by a Jack Russell Terrier (Irish Rent-a-dog), who followed us up the road but turned back then the going got steep. The view from the top was well worth the effort of getting there. When we walked back down, the gate to the castle was open so we walked up to it.

Sursprise! The ferry was running late, so we had time to make a bonus trip to the graveyard. Our host dropped us off and we walked back and got one more fine meal at the Fisherman's Cottage before heading back. I found on the map that one could avoid a detour to the awful roads of Limerick by taking a ferry across the Shannon, so we headed for that. According to their posted schedule we should have missed the 4:30 ferry, but it was running late, so we drove up just as they were unloading and got right on. Then it was a straight shot down to Listowel and Tralee. When we hit downtown Tralee, I wasn't sure where I was until I saw the cathedral, and then I knew exactly where I was and where to go next.

After a mixup about the location of our landlady, we headed to the Spar grocer in downtown Castlegregory and stocked up with Irish dairy items and boiling bacon. Across the street was our favorite eating place on the peninsula - Phil's Cafe. Since this was off-season, Phil gave himself some generous time off, so we determined that we could have scones there on Thursday. Then we found our landlady and went down the road to our cottage which was, as advertised, a five minute walk from the bay. We were surprised to hear that the cottage was more than 200 years old - the only immediate giveaway was the thickness of the walls - more than two feet. It was perfectly comfortable and more than enough room for the two of us. An hour later, we went to the front and got another sunset shot.