“The man who goes alone can start today; but he who travels with another must wait till that other is ready.”
– Henry David Thoreau
Day 176, Wednesday, July 17, 2019
Lesson Learned: The highway systems in other countries that we’ve visited are different than the US. On the long haul, they are very good, even in Egypt, but in the cities, they are……missing.
It may be due to the age of the city centers, but you don’t find freeways through the hearts of the cities like back home. If you need to get to the city center, it’s a slog. Bumper to bumper, traffic lights, and streets that dwindle in size like the Colorado River on the way to the Gulf of Mexico. A 12-mile trip from our flat to London City Airport took the better part of an hour. You can drive from Fort Worth to Dallas, in the same amount of time, or maybe even Washington, DC to Baltimore.
County Wicklow
We took a puddle-jumper jet from London to Dublin. We could have taken a combo train-ferry for about the same costs, but since we were a day behind schedule flying seemed to be simpler.
We did not have a set itinerary for our two weeks in Ireland, so we didn’t have reservations, we just made it up as we went. First action item on our list was to rent a car. We picked one from the airport, and as in all countries in Europe, most cars are standard shift. I’ve never driven a right-hand steer stick shift before, though I’ve driven in England twice before, so we splurged and picked an automatic transmission for this trip.
Automatics are expensive to rent, probably three times as expensive as a standard, but since I was going to have to deal with driving on the left side of the road, we decided to simplify our lives. We also took out the insurance, since my last time in the UK I had a little fender bender on a double round-about in York. Better safe than sorry.
We try to avoid driving in the large European cities, so from the airport we hooked a left and drove south on the sparsely-populated roads in Wicklow to reacquaint ourselves with life driving on the left.
Wicklow, which means “church of the toothless one” in Irish, is a county south of Dublin. County Wicklow is nestled along the country’s east coast is one of its most beautiful areas in the country, comprised of rolling mountains, thick evergreen forests, pristine beaches, dozens of stone monoliths, castles, and numerous historic monuments. It’s also home to the country’s highest waterfall, the landing site of Saint Patrick in the 5th century, and site of the Wicklow Way which is a 130 kilometer hiking trail over the mountains.
We found a great little hotel called the Wilderness Lodge (http://wildernesslodge.ie/) in Glenmalure, which was cozy, but perfect for a couple of days to start our Irish odyssey. The best part is it was totally remote, but had a pub right across the street that had cold beer and great food. What more could you ask for?
Glendalough Hiking
Just down the road in the glacial valley of Glendalough is one of the country’s most significant Early Medieval monastic settlements, dating back to the 6th century. Originally founded by the somewhat mysterious hermetic figure of St. Kevin, it soon developed into a monastic city – a major center of religious learning and worship. Today, people from all over visit this little town to walk through the remaining relics and enjoy the area’s unspoiled natural beauty and hiking trails. The arched granite gateway to the monastic city is the last remaining structure of its kind in all of Ireland.
The trip from our lodge took about 20 minutes down some of the prettiest country lanes the size of a sidewalk that you’ve ever seen. Whilst Glendalough is an area rich in history, it is also well known for it’s stunning walking trails. Just be sure to ask questions regarding the nature of the trails. We picked one that more than we’d hopped for. A little too long, a lot of narrow board walks, and worst of all lots of loose stone trails with a steep descent which was a sprained ankle waiting to happen.
All the way down the mountain all I heard was “You did it to me again.” Which is fair, since I got Ellen in over her head in Big Bend, Shenandoah, the Grand Canyon, Croatia, and a few other hikes that evade my memory at the moment. I’m a repeat offender. I don’t seem to get that 3 inches on a map can translate into 15 miles of class three hiking trails. The good news is, we survived, and the area really was spectacular. The bad news is it’ll probably happen again. I don’t think Ellen will divorce me over the hike, but murder in my sleep isn’t out of the realm of possibility.
Ireland’s Oldest Weaving Mill
The Avoca Handweavers brand is one of the oldest manufacturing companies in Ireland, and its mill on the banks of the Acova River, from which they get their name, is Ireland’s oldest weaving textile mill.
The mill was built in 1723 in Avoca village as co-operative where local farmers could grind their corn, and spin and weave their wool for clothing for the local miners. Originally, only natural uncolored yarn was used to make tweed for clothing and blankets for beds, but later color made from local natural vegetable dyes in reds, greens and yellows began to be used. These were soon recognized as Avoca’s signature hues. I kid you not, there were buses pulling up to this little white outpost on the edge of the village in the middle of nowhere. I’ve never heard of Avoca tweeds, but I’m definitely in the minority. We took a self-guided tour of the mill, which was a mix of new equipment and old looms hundreds of years old. It was fascinating and the products produced here were really nice. Nice enough to have some new tweeds in the Tyler household in Virginia, now. The village itself was the filming location of the BBC series Ballykissangel (which I’ve never watched).
