What a day!

So walking is always a lot of our vacations, especially when we go somewhere like France. But we don't always take in the local flora, or in this case, the local mountains and hiking trails. But we did yesterday and we had a blast. Gleninchaquin park was special. Cody was especially pleased.

The park also brought out some of his theatrical side.

There was another stone circle here. If you are going to have a stone circle, why not have it in a location like this? Location, location, location.

Then we drove in further - very slowly - and got to the main area with the trails, all beginning with this view of the waterfalls. It was gorgeous.

This is also a working farm, and there are sheep everywhere. Vicki and Cody do not see eye to eye on eating these. One sees cute, the other looks for mint sauce.

I definitely see wool. I've already decided I am leaving this country with an Aran Islands sweater (covering the extra pounds I am taking back). 

This is a 19th century farmhouse that is being restored.

There were several lakes on the hike. Neither my camera nor its amateur operator could capture the height or beauty well. I need more lessons.

That is Vicki and Cody down below me.

There were several stiles we had to cross and gates we had to pass through. All had to be be closed to keep the sheep where they were, although we saw sheep, or their evidence, everywhere we hiked. The technology varied from gate to gate. Some were much simpler than others, eh Cody?

Back in Kenmare, we chose to relax over lunch and shop around a bit. According to my spreadsheet, there were many things we should have been doing, but this was a very pleasant afternoon.

On the way back to the B&B, Vicki saw this church ruin and we checked it out. There was a cemetery adjacent, so we looked for any O'Keefes/Keefes/Keffes - any spelling will suffice.

Inside the tower...

Unfortunately, the day ended with Cody getting sick. So Vicki and I headed to the grocery for bread and cheese, and Cody headed for bed. 

This morning, Cody feels somewhat better, and Vicki seems to have caught whatever Cody had. I hope everyone feels better soon. We will all need help - and about 8 extra hours - if I have to drive. 

Climb every mountain...

We started the day be going to Gleninchaquin Park, just south of Kenmare on the Beara Peninsula. We started out on a normal, narrow road but turned off onto a really narrow gravel road which took us first to a stone circle near a lake. It was quite beautiful, and we walked around for a bit, avoiding the sheep shit and taking in the views. Dan will be posting those photos, since I left my camera in the car. We continued on to the actual park, which is a working farm in a valley full of (you guessed it) sheep. There were some adorable little lambs, which Cody said would be good with mint sauce. :(

So the way the game at the park is played is that you choose one of six walking paths around the farm area. There's a beautiful waterfall, and one of the walks is called "Over the Falls," 115 minutes. Sign us up for that one. The nice Irish dude described the route, and off we went across the field, less worried about stepping into sheep shit, since it was everywhere. Here are some photos of the places that we saw on our little two-hour jaunt up a freaking mountain:

Dan's photos will be much better. I couldn't catch a shot that would show just how high up we climbed, but it was high. I think that Dan said that it was 600-something feet. I'm guessing that the two men working the reception area lay bets on who will and who won't finish a trek. Well by God, someone lost a bet on this fat, White woman because I made it on this Grade 4 (whatever that means) hike over the falls. Anyway, Dan and I both took an Aleve as soon as we got back to the car, in hopes of staving off the stiffening muscles that are sure to follow tonight's sleep

After a late lunch in Kenmare, we headed back to the B&B after strolling through some shops in the village. We took a quick detour to an old church with (of course) a graveyard, which was mostly overgrown and sadly unattended. There was this particular monument, which was behind an iron fence with steps that led nowhere:

I love cemeteries, but this one was sad. 

Upon getting back to the B&B, young Cody decided to empty his digestive system. Poor Bear! We are hoping that he's gotten rid of whatever it was and feels much better tomorrow. We may get some rain as we head north to the Kilarney National Park and then to the Dingle Peninsula. 

Photobombing

Taking it easier

Planning a trip like this is half the fun and gets me fired up about where we are headed. My original planning this time produced a multi page spreadsheet (maybe 15 pages?) and although distances seem short on paper, the reality is quite different. Plus we have found that lunches and any conversation with a local cannot be expected to be short.

The final blow to the spreadsheet agenda was laughter and multiple statements of "oh, my" by Cornelia. She said, first, it was not achievable and, second, it would not be enjoyable. Relax. She got us to eliminate a few things and adjust our expectations. I'm good with that. 

First, an item of interest from the cemetery we visited. Many of the graves had these globes, filled with flowers and water. They kind of looked like bubbles across the cemetery.

Moving on down the road, we would suddenly find something of interest, like this tomb from around 2000 B.C. It was later used as an altar by Catholic priests during the time when it was illegal to conduct a mass. They would hold mass out in a field like this.

We then headed southwest to the most southwestern tip of Ireland, where one finds the Mizen Head signal station, some incredible ocean views, and, in our case, some pelting rain. This is the walkway to the station. What you can't see is how high above the rocks and water we are. My photos won't/can't show that.

Apparently, there was some reonvation going on at the signal site. King John perhaps?

And out in the middle of that bridge, a lock. ?

Back to Crookhaven for lunch. Ourr directions were to drive into town to the pier and to the end, where we found O'Sullivan's pub. I had my first Irish coffee and Vicki and Cody found a new cider. Ireland is enjoying a craft cider revival, much like the States are enjoying a craft beer surge. 

Again, just driving along, we spy a sign for the Kilheangul Burial Ground. We don't pass these by, especially with Vicki on the hunt for her royal ancestors. This old celtic cross stood out, especially in contrast to the new marble behind it.

We had heard that we might encounter farm animals as we drove and sure enough, on a road already too narrow, we encounter cows that would nonchalantly wander out in front of you. I snapped this with the iPhone as we finally got this one to move over.

The main drag of Kenmare, our location for the next 2 nights.

Kenmare has a very old stone circle in town, but on the way there, we encountered this one in the middle of a road. I don't think it is nearly as old as the othe one, and unless there is a lot of rock attached to these underground, it wasn't nearly as hard to build. 

And then there was this at the edge of the stone circle area. All kinds of gods were worshipped; why not Santa as well?

This morning, we went down for our breakfast at our B&B. Cody had ordered the Irish porridge - but requested a fried egg on it. Our host had never heard of savory oatmeals and this threw her for a loop. But it was good, and it may be that Cody just started a food trend in Kenmare!

Driving

I hear that the scenery that we passed today was lovely. Here's what I saw:

These babies just moseyed on in front of us. They were in no hurry, so neither were we. 

We were sad to leave the beautiful home of our host, Cornelia O'Keeffe. Here she is, along with some photos of her B&B:

Cornelia O'Keeffe, a real make-lemonade kind of person. She's very zen and very cool. If you end up in the southwest part of Ireland, stay at the Rock Hill B&B in Schull.

Cornelia papered several bedroom doors with the spines and covers of book jackets. So cool!

This is the view from the john in our bedroom. IT'S THE VIEW FROM THE JOHN. Unbelieveable.

Dan posted photos of the old Schull church and graveyard, along with some other beautiful shots that were taken this morning. 

We traveled from Schull to Mizen Head, which was incredible. Again, look for Dan's post, which will cover the photography. However, I will share with you a photo of the steps that we took as part (part) of the journey back from the most southwest point of Ireland:

We then drove to Crookhaven for lunch and afterward tried to find our way along the coast to Three Castle Head, but without GPS, a detailed map, and/or directional signs, we were screwed. However, we did see very narrow roads, some of which had precipitous cliffs. At times, I felt like someone was going to have to pry my hands from the wheel, once we finally arrived somewhere. Here's a shot of the road from Dan's side of the car. Please note that this is a two-lane road, sometime traversed by RVs, full-sized trucks, and buses. 

We are spending two nights in Kenmare, where there is a stone circle as well as a place called Cromwell Bridge. While some people think that the bridge is named after Thomas Cromwell, who deeded this area to the town's founder, it's more likely that the name is a misunderstanding of the Celtic word for 1) mustache or 2) arch. 

The most exciting find if the day, at least for me, came in the form of an email. I've spent a little time tracing my ancestry,  and I received information today about the O'Keefes. My 2nd great grandmother was an O'Keefe, and it was her parents who emigrated to the U.S. during the potato famine of the 19th century. According to the information that I received,11 of the first 25 kings of Munster were O'Keefes. And all O'Keefes are all descended from that line. Cody and I were sure to remind Dan several times today that he was in the presence of royalty. We also kept the "O" part of O'Keefe, which meant that we "didn't take the soup" during the famine. Apparently, at that time, the English were trying to anglicize the Irish, and one way to do that (in addition to not allowing them to practice Catholicism) was to allow them to take food from the soup kitchens if, and only if, they would drop the "O" from their names. So O'Sullivans became Sullivans, O'Regans became Regans, etc. I see where the stubborn streak, so evident in my mother and my children, came from. (It skipped a generation.)