Hitch Hiking (Sorry Mom)

Maura recommended that, if we see nothing else, we should see the cathedral at Kilfenora.  I, Michael, deliberately didn't write down the phone number of the place that rents bicycles, thus forcing us to hitch hike.  It was easy enough leaving Lahinch for Ennistymon thanks to a small car full of Canadiens, but the next ride required that we walk about 3 km out of town to a junction in the road.  A woman on her way to pick up her daughter from preschool stopped in the middle of the road and we jumped in, Donica had to sit on the booster seat.  She let us off right at the Burren visitors center and we had a look around at the stuff you pay for before heading out to the free cathedral and high crosses.

 
Back in the 1100s Kilfenora went to a whole lot of trouble to become its own diocese which resulted in a very neat east window of the otherwise tiny cathedral and several iconic celtic crosses.  One of which still stands inside an iron fence in the middle of a nearby cow pasture.

So, ten minutes later we’re at the pub next door having an Irish coffee and Guinness.  We were the only customers and in short order the owner/bartender, Mr. Connor, put his sweater on and began chatting us up.  He had a long winded story about a local ne’er do well that somehow resulted in him offering his son as a ride back to our B&B if we were in the pub at half five.  More drink or more adventure?  We had two hours, so we set out to see another ruin or two along the same road. 

After one tweaked-out ride with a crazy lady who said a lot of stuff, very little of which made any sense, we found ourselves at Leamaneh Castle. It is on private land, but perched just off the road.

 We stood and ogled it, took a couple of photos, and then an Irish fellow came up. He was stopping to look at the ruin as well. Tom was a history buff, and gave us an off-the-cuff lecture about the architectural significance of the structure - part of it being built in the 11th century, for defense purposes, and the other part being built in the 16th (or maybe 17th?) century, as more of an estate. He didn’t mention what the castle is most famous for, which is a gal who killed one or more husbands by pushing them off the roof. We had hoped he was going our direction and could give us a ride, but alas, he was headed to a grand party in Kinvarra. If we wanted to go along for that, we were welcome. Instead we continued on with hopes of seeing the Dolmen.

This is when it gets real. It is very touristy along these roads, and many folks were reluctant to pick us up. A car slowed after driving quite a ways past us, and the passenger yelled out the door, “Are you going far?” This was our first introduction to Mary. Of course, we said no, and ran to jump in the back seat. We told the couple that we were headed to the Dolmen. They replied that they were going to Aillwee Cave. In a fit of spontaneity, we agreed to go along.

Without going into a painful word-for-word recounting of this drive, I will simply tell you that Mary and Noel are dairy farmers.  They likely ran out of things to say to each other many, many years ago. In fact, their interaction with us may have been the first time they talked in months. Mary seemed very glad for the company, and Noel seemed like - well, a statue. A car-driving statue. Both of them had terrible teeth. But, they were dressed in their Sunday best, and turned out to be rather sweet.

 We visited amicably, sort of, and stopped to take pictures periodically. When we arrived at the caves we were the only ones there for the tour, so the poor guide took us along like an awkward little family.

So, when they finally dropped us off at the town that was their destination, not ours, we headed STRAIGHT for the nearest pub. Another pub that advertised food but did not actually serve food. So, we turned around and went to another pub. (That’s a great thing about Ireland - there’s always another pub.) At this point, hungry and with daylight fading, we gave in. Pints, hot soup, and a taxi ride home. Phew. Still shaking our heads about the strangeness of this day.