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July 9 Sunday Sunny 20º C Bicycle touring Ireland In the morning we cycle back into Kinsale, Ireland - together this time. We found some picnic tables that overlooked the bay and harbour. Sharon started to get the utensils and our Whisperlite stove out while I cycled off to see if any food stores were open. I told her to wait there for me. I found a bakery and returned with steaming hot buns, soda bread, and doughnuts. The buns were full of big black raisins. The doughnuts were filled with strawberry jam. Brightly painted work boats lined one edge of the dock, gleaming in their coats of blue, red, and yellow. A sailboat rental shop opened. Soon, red-sailed dinghies were plying the bay in every direction. I felt sorry for the people who had outside moorings as they were very nearly rammed several times by the Sunday sailors. Cycling out of town, we encountered hills. A smile lit up Sharon's face. She is much happier now with her new touring gearing arrangement. Across an inlet, we could see the colourful buildings of Courtmacsherry, Ireland. An elderly painter had set up his lawn chair along the road and was busy making a watercolor painting of the scene. He told us he lives in England near Cornwallis, but he is a Canadian citizen. In 1940, Churchill said send the children to Canada, to protect them from the war. Charlie was on the first boat that made the Atlantic crossing to Canada. A second boat was torpedoed and 600 kids drowned, so no more boats of kids were sent over after that. Charlie went to school in Montreal. He said all the fishing boats in the Cornwallis harbour are flying Canadian flags to support the Spanish trawler dispute.
We left Charlie to finish his painting and
cycled onward before stopping to have lunch in Timoleague, Ireland,
in a park with a view of church ruins and a graveyard. An old
long-time resident had died and was being laid to rest. It looked
like the whole town had come out to see him off. The graveyard
was packed. We hadn't seen a Sunday funeral before. And then
they were off - to the Irish wake, I presumed. And now for an
Irish joke. What's the difference between an Irish wedding and
an Irish wake? One less drunk. We were sweating on our fully loaded touring bicycles, climbing a long steep hill out of Castlefreake, Ireland, when we come across kids playing by a fence. They told us they were going swimming at the beach later. We cycled down the road and soon arrived at the beach. It was packed. Not only the beach, but also the road. Only a single lane for traffic remained down the middle of the road as cars were parked bumper to bumper on both sides of the road. On our wide touring bikes, we had to sneak through, weaving our way through the maze of vehicles. Saw a sign for standing stones, so we detoured. There were 17 stones in a circle -- no fence around them like Stonehenge. These aren't as immense as Stonehenge's megaliths, but we could walk right up to these, touch them, and even go inside the circle. No admission fee either. I kind of wonder though, the wisdom of stone circles in Ireland. Didn't these things use the sun to determine planting times when the shadow fell in the right spot or the sun poked between two special rocks? I can hear them now, "Hey, no shadow. We don't plant again this year. Well, boys, break out the Guinness. What is that now? Fourth year in a row we didn't have to plant? Fifth? Aye, that calls for a beer." Origins of the original potato famine no doubt. We met a guy, Daniel, and his cousin, Jor.
Daniel's from Florida and had come to visit his Irish relations.
He gives us his e-mail address and says if we bicycle tour in
Florida, he can get us tickets to watch a shuttle launch. We cycled down the road and found a beautiful camp spot along a mud flat. We were making boiled potatoes when four boys came along to fish. Three of them were going into Grade IV. The littlest tyke, five years old, assured us he was going to school, too. A sliver of water left from the outgoing tide was in the middle of the mud flats. It was far too far to cast to, but that didn't stop the boys from trying. Finally, after casting and casting, in exasperation one boy turned to his chum. "We need a weight," he decided. "How about your shirt?" "No way," came the reply. "It's new." Tiring of fishing, they came over to talk with us some more. "This is a nice spot," one red-haired boy says. "Are you camping here?" "Yes," we tell them. "Thought so," they wisely say. The littlest guy notices our stove under the pot and says, "Hey, they have a fire." "Of course," one of the older boys says. "They have to eat." "Where are you from?" another wants to know. "Canada." "Oh, maple sugar," he says. "My aunt brought me some home when she went there to visit. It was very good." We asked them, "When do you get up on holidays?" The three older boys all chime in unison, "Early!" The five-year-old, quick as a wink, replies, "Late!" "If it rains, do you cycle and get wet?" "Yeppir," we say, nodding. They tell us that if it is not raining in the morning, they will come back and see us. |
