Heather and I hit the road early on Saturday and made our way down the N8, through the dense fog into the Cork sunshine. It was miraculous after being so concerned that we wouldn't see anything through the white clouds nearly touching the earth. Our first stop was the Blarney Castle.
The castle was terrific - it wasn't one like I've visited before, hadn't been refurbished to look the way it once had. Just stood there in its glorious ruin. The rooms were damp and old, and a little bit creepy. It was such great fun, even the part where we climbed old spiral stairs to the top and back down again. We were... um, entertained (?) by a large group of American teenagers being loud, annoying and inappropriate during our visit. They weren't the only ones acting like fools. Witness the brilliance of this tourist:
Read much?
We left the castle and headed toward Kinsale, our final destination of the day. We were starving for lunch and Kinsale is the town that has the best food in Ireland, according to all the guides. Our drive was long, but we finally made it for lunch around 3:30 at Fishy Fishy Cafe, near the pier. It was delicious. The best fried shrimp I have ever eaten - I mean it! Heather had an open sandwich on brown bread, 1/2 shrimp and 1/2 salmon. It was to die for. For dessert, I had a bread and butter pudding that tasted like heaven. If you are ever in Kinsale, you MUST try this restaurant. It's well worth a visit.
After lunch, we wandered the streets of Kinsale, trying to see as much as we could before dark.
What a cute town! We sampled some of the night life after dark, dipping into a wine bar, then back through town to our hotel bar for some live jazz singers (pretty good, I must say). Then we tried to find the castle just for fun but weren't so lucky on our search. Having walked the majority of Kinsale, we went to our rooms and retired for the evening.
Sunday morning we woke up early, had our breakfast at the hotel, then headed up to Charles Fort, going the way we THOUGHT our hotel concierge told us about. We drove up the graveliest, narrowest, steepest and most frightening road I have ever been on, and discovered at the top that our journey could not continue. We had arrived at the top of a steep, narrow road that was blocked at the end. No where to turn around, I prepared myself for a backwards drive down the scariest road ever. Needless to say, I didn't make it too far. The car slipped on the gravel and the back of the passenger side came to rest on a rock wall (fortunately, I suppose, not on the other side, which would have had us sliding down a mountain). Heather called the hotel to try and find out what we should do, and in the meantime, this guy with his dog appeared from around the corner. I asked him if he had any idea how we were supposed to get out of there. He said we had to go back the way we came. I was like, "Right. Well, we would, only the car is now stuck on the rocks and I can't make it move." He asked if I wanted his help and I jumped at the chance. He handed over the dog on the leash and got in the car with Heather (who was stuck in there because her door was on the rock wall). As the guy's dog whined and carried on while he ran me down the hill and while his master expertly navigated the steep, scary hill. He got the car to a turning around point and I told him I had no idea what we'd have done without him, and thanked him with all my heart. He said no one had driven up there for 30 years. My question is, shouldn't the hill be blocked to cars at the BOTTOM???? Before someone gets STUCK AT THE TOP!!! After all that, the damage to the car wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, but it was severely scratched where it had hit and scraped on the rocks.
It probably should be funny by now, but I'll wait and see what happens when I return the car to determine just HOW funny it will be.
We did make it to Charles Fort using the route we were supposed to have taken in the first place, and it was really amazing. We were glad we'd made the journey despite the huge debacle of the morning.
We made a few stops on the road back toward Dublin, taking some snapshots along the way.
We drove back home to Dublin through the Wicklow Mountains, via Sally Gap, which was gorgeous but very scary at times. I actually had to drive on snow a couple of times, but other people's cars had been there before me and sort of carved a path, so it wasn't too bad. We got through the winding, narrow roads just as darkness fell. It was perfect timing, thankfully.
Oh, and one more sign we found amusing in Wicklow.
They take dumping and dumpers very seriously.
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