Travel Log – Day Five 5/15

Starting off behind schedule, but trying not to care as this *is* “Vacation,” we settle in for a bit of sight-seeing in Waterford. Walked along the Quay (which is a mile long from Grattan to Adelphi), and crossed up from the Clock Tower (built for Vincent Wallace), towards City Center again, passing the Cathedral of the Most Holy Trinity, which looks odd just sorta standing there so HUGE in the middle of an otherwise shop-front filled street.

…Moving on, we took in Black Friar’s Abbey which was built during King Henry III’s rein. The only remains now are the chancel of the church and the belfry, and a huge collection receptacle in the adjoining square painted with little monks holding collection plates, is set for abbey maintenance funds.

Next: Lady Jane House, (which looks to be some type of 1800’s WMCA), St. Francis (an old Church converted to a Hospital), and Christ Church Cathedral (which is the only neo-classical Georgian Cathedral in Ireland), just across the street from our first “Famous Person Lived Here” marker: The house of William Vincent Wallace (Irish composer and musician) and Charles Keane (English Actor/Mgr, best known for Shakes revivals)…same house, though not at the same time.

From there, took in the Waterford Badminton Club (another church converted for other purposes), walked along St. Michael’s St. (the main drag of the square), Paddy Power (the actual name of the chain of “bookies” for horse racing and sport), noted it’s voting time again as *everywhere* is plastered with Sinn Fein, and Fine Gael political posters), and took in St. John’s Church, Yeats College, and the Catholic Young Men’s Society before hitting up the tourist center for more maps and packing it all back into the car again via the Waterford Crystal Visitor’s Center.

Waterford Crystal has just recently undergone a lot of strike and financial troubles, and was just bought-out by an American company (who we can only hope will uphold the craftsmanship and workers there today.) The pieces on displace are stunning beyond a photographs ability to pick up, and the film selections of the workshops with the artisans at work blows your mind. Every single etch and divot of crystal, and every piece hand-blown and inspected multiple times before the Waterford seahorse seal of approval stamp is given. Now yuh know why one glass can cost $120…because it has to match the *other* ones, as a set, each made by different people, from liquid glass blob through etching to final polishing. Favorite pieces include the life-sized Post Box, Grandfather clock, Celtic Harp, and 11 cluster chandelier hanging from the second to first floor over the cash registers. (See pictures section.)

Finally tore ourselves away and moved on through to our first thatched roof cottage and Kilmeadon, Carrickfergus, Lemybrien, Dungarvan, and Grange to Youghal (pronounced Yawl.)

Youghal is a coastal town at the estuary of the river Blackwater and has an “old town” structure as well as a “Resort” end. You can take a wild guess which end we took interest in. The great thing about these “modern” old towns is that they are careful to preserve the historic sides and let the newer ones crop up either elsewhere or blend them into the look and style of the old so they don’t clash. Here, they clearly separated the two out completely. It has been around since before the 8th century, like everywhere else in coastal Ireland was raided by the Vikings, and was taken back by the Clans.

…It was the hometown of Sir Walter Raleigh for short periods of time during the 17 years he held land in Ireland (part of the 40,000 acres allotted him by Queen Elizabeth I in 1579, 1588-1589 of which he was Mayor), and it was he, it is said, in Youghal, who planted the first potatoes in Ireland. The poet Edmund Spenser had also been gifted land here.

Famous things to see in town include: The Red House (example of Dutch architecture completed in 1703), Clock Gate, Tynte’s Castle (a late 15th century tower house), and Youghal Bay. Ate at the Coachouse Restaurant (located in the ground floor of the Old Imperial.)

Then: moved on through Killeagh, Castle Martyr, Carrigtohill, and Fota to Cobh (pronounced Cove.)

Cobh is a famous port town for several reasons being, One: It is where Annie Moore, the first ever immigrant to be processed in Ellis Island came from, Two: It is the closest site where the Lusitania was sunk and where the graves of it’s crew are buried (a monument facing out to the sea marks a memorial) and Three: It was the last Port of Call of the Titanic before her maiden voyage began. A museum was once here, now only the shell of it remains as the actual memorabilia are traveling with the Smithsonian tours now.

Cobh also hosts St. Colman’s Cathedral, founded in 560 AD, which contains the largest Carillon in Ireland with 47 bells. It is a gigantic fortress, a neo-Gothic cathedral by architects Pugin and Ashlin, took 47 years to build (beginning in 1868), and the largest of it’s bells is 200 feet above the ground weighing 3.5 tons. The Cathedral organ, by Telford and Telford, contains 2,468 pipes and it is a regular venue of recitals by choirs from around the world.

From here, hit up the “Rent-a-Toilet” (see Strange But Truisms Section later), and moved on through Cork to Blarney, where everything was closed by now, so only got pictures of the very top of the castle (it’s gated now because people kept taking chunks of it away with them), Church of the Resurrection, and the Woolen Mills, before returning back through Cork (where my family ported from), and Halfway, Innishannon, Bandon, Pedlar’s Cross, Ballinsascarthy, Clonakilty, Lisbaird, Rosscarbery, Conhaugh, Leap, Skibberdeen, and into Bantry, where we slept for the night at our first B & B, Dromcloc House, a working Dairy farm by-the-sea.

…Arriving by ten in the evening, our proprietress, still up visiting with relatives who had come in, was in her early seventies and had a lovely lilt and friendly manner as she boiled us some tea n’ scones and popped up to our room to turn our electric blankets on. The gale gusts sound as if you are right on the open ocean there, but it is actually an inlet…one of the many…and is surrounded with farm land that surprisingly though a diary farm, the sea winds favor us with fresh air instead of what first comes to mind.

Next: sleep. As of tonight, we have walked over 30 miles and driven 462. Our fourth day in Ireland.