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After breakfast on High Street (in the super-cute pedestrian / tourist area of Galway), we packed a lunch and headed northwest to Connemara. This is the part of the country that has a special place in the hearts of many, many of the relatives, and we now understand why. Before we left civilization too completely, we stopped in Oughterard to do a little souvenir shopping; I bought a wool sweater. We also found an adorable little “Village Park,”, with a small bridge over a small creek, in which to have our picnic. And then we kept driving West.

We soon reached the true back and beyond of Ireland. The signs stop being bilingual out this far: it is all in Irish. The landscape has more rock than grass, and there are miles and miles of stone fences, stone buildings, and quite a lot of livestock (Cownnemara?). The narrow, twisty roads, replete with tractors, old local farmers on ancient bicycles, and sheep, are quite, um, thrilling. It all has a stark, peaceful beauty.

We did have a destination in this land of “there’s nothing out here”: Ros Muc. Specifically, we were looking for a place called Garafin House. We were successful; it is out right on the water on a gorgeous patch of land. This place, and the neighboring pier, once belonged to David’s great (great?) grandfather. He brought goods over the water and sold it out of a store on the property. The current owner (some distant relation on David’s mom’s side) is in the process of a major remake of the place. The caretaker, a man with the same last name as David’s mom (maiden), was there with his two sons, neither of whom spoke much English. He let us have a good look around the gutted house while he cleared brush. It is clear that the house was once magnificent, and it likely will be again. It will be someone’s dream summer getaway.

When we returned to Galway. we parked ourselves in the Spanish Arch hotel for dinner. Although our kids were technically not allowed there after 10pm, we were not asked to surrender our table, so we were able to hear the first set of a great band. It included a flutist, and guitarist, a piper and a drummer. We reluctantly left when the kids pleaded fatigue.

We woke to pouring rain.  This disheartened us greatly as we had made a plan with Mark, Phili, and Ben to go out on their boat.  We decided we would go anyway;  how often do you get invited  to cruise the Shannon?  Phili made us breakfast on the boat, and, despite the weather, we enjoyed almost two hours on the calm, reedy river where the grazing cows and sheep come right down to meet the multitude of swans.   We all disembarked at Clonmacnoise, a very ancient monastery  that houses seven temples, hundreds of graves, and some amazing carved tombstones.  Though our toes got soggy, it was  a profound and beautiful place, and it was really nice to spend a bit more time with Mark’s family.

John came in his car to fetch us back to Banagher, where Eileen served us another huge lunch before we headed off to Galway .  Thankfully, our windshield  wiper had been miraculously healed overnight, because, by the time we settled into our hotel, which was right by the Corrib River,  rain was coming down in buckets. We finally got up the courage to go out, and we stopped for dinner at the King’s Head pub. (Legend says it was given as a thank you gift to the Irishman who severed the head of Charles I).  The rain let up as we ate, so we took a late night walk along river and then turned in a bit earlier than usual.

Around noon on the 5th, we drove to Banagher (just south of Athlone, smack in the middle of Ireland). The rain started, and it appeared the windshield wiper on Aunt Judy’s Mercedes was not going to make it; it was very sluggish and noisy. We did, however, make it safely to our destination: the home of David’s paternal aunt Eileen and her husband, John Ivory (who was also a childhood friend of David’s father). It is the same house that David’s father spent much of his childhood. Although the Ivorys live a couple blocks from the main street, their town is so small there is a field of horses across the road. After sitting by the peat fire for a bit, and eating peas out of their extensive back garden, we were served a huge midday meal, as is the tradition in rural Ireland. The rain had let up a bit, so we then headed for a new playground built on the banks of the Shannon River. We were met there by David’s cousin, Mark Ivory (Eileen and John’s son), Mark’s wife, Phili, and their son, Ben. Though this family lives in near Wexford, they had rented a motor boat for a week to tour the Shannon; they were docked right by the playground.

We then went on a quick driving tour of the area. We saw the grave of David’s paternal grandparents and his aunt Ann; John took us past the two pastures where his “four legged children” live (four horses, a colt, a pony); and we walked into a peat bog field and saw how the peat is cut. (Peat is an important source of energy here).

Our evening “tea” (a smaller, less formal meal) soon turned into a kitchen-busting “craic.” Besides John, Eileen, Mark, Phili and Ben, we were joined by Brian Ivory (another son of Eileen and John); Brian’s fiancee, Kathleen; David’s paternal uncle, Damien Kerins; and Damien’s wife, Catherine. We stayed up quite late laughing and chatting. As Kathleen said, all we needed was a fiddle!

All and all, it was a great day of family re-connection and learning about the past and about life in the small farming towns that makes up so much of this country.

Got rid of the raisins and are headed west. Will post asap.