Some dream, some do

We all have dreams but not usually to build your own ideal village. One such architect had this dream back in the 1920s and lived to see his dream come true after 50 years in creation. He searched for the ideal location and found it in Wales by accident while sailing nearby. Port Meirion is an Italianate style village created by Sir Clough Williams-Ellis and today run as a charity as set up by his family.



Dodging several showers, we enjoyed several hours in the village as part of our last day in this part of Wales. The day also included a drive through parts of Snowdonia national park and several quaint villages. It took a few days to adjust to the somewhat slower pace of life in Beaumaris and but for another injection of Eton like class conversation with a couple at breakfast down from wherever to check over Will and Kate's place on Angelsea over the weekend, we could have really enjoyed it here.

News of the World out, R&Y blog in

The News of the World may finish this weekend but here in Blog land, life goes on as usual.

Tired, aloof, old, calculating, diffident, traditional, aggressive, self assured, monarchist. These are the words that are currently coming to my head after just a couple of days in Wales/Great Britain. The weather has been quite poor over the last few days as well and this may be contributing to my slightly indifferent feelings at the moment.

But compared to the Irish, even in their current financial plight, Great Britain seems quite a way out of touch. The service to travellers like us is certainly way behind Ireland. We are often left with the feeling that here we should be grateful for the opportunity to be in the shop/pub/restaurant and we will get around to you when we think it is your turn for our focus.

Here in Anglesea and Snowdonia in general, the natural settings are quite sensational and very easy on the eye. So there is no shortage of opportunities to be enchanted. But it is just not happening and it is coming down to the people thing.

The drivers are also a lot more aggressive on the roads and courtesies are few on the narrow back roads. Parking for any cars in and around the towns/villages/seaside is tightly controlled, expensive and not well planned.

But there could be layers in here within me that are also in play. I am more than half English by heritage and coming here may be bringing long suppressed experiences out. I could be back in the 1950s at times with the Enid Blyton, Noddy, Beano and Dandy, Rupert, Biggles and the Daily Mirror experiences of my youth now front of mind and I may be “coming home” to my own ghosts in some respects. Even here in Wales, I have seen my own mother and her other English friends in the many elderly women getting around these old Victorian era towns. The ways they walk, talk, dress and engage with each other are very familiar to me.

We mat report on what we did in Wales later.

And politically the whole place seems to be erupting around the News of the World issue.

So as we move soon up to Scotland for a week, I wonder what I will be thinking this time next week?

Looking for Druids

As we sail out of Dublin I am feeling rather sad to leave such wonderful people. However the remainder of our trip is ahead of us and the sun is shining.

Our trip across the Irish sea is very smooth and we embark at Holyhead having skyped members of our family while making the crossing.



We collect our new car and head for Caernarfon. At which time we decide it is such a nice day we will make the train trip to Mt Snowdon. These trains run every half hour but are quite busy so we have to wait until 4pm to make the journey. The scenery during the climb is absolutely magnificent and views of the very steep valleys is breathtaking. However the heavens open and by the time we reach the top it is clouded in well and truly as we know can happen when you are at 3559 feet. They do say you can see forever, but that is not for us today. The return trip is taken very slowly in our little steam train and I have my foot to the floor to assist in the steep descent.



We have now arrived at our house on the island of Anglesey with views of the Menai Strait and Snowdonia. The house is believed to originally have been a hospice for monks built in the 1700's. We actually have a panel enclosed in our room showing the original wall built from wattle and daub. However the house has been considerably renovated to a very comfortable state. We are feeling a little abandoned as our hosts have left us to attend a dinner at Windsor Castle tonight – however we will manage.

The view across from our house is of the Menai Strait with many little yachts and the mountains which are forever changing depending on the weather. I could sit forever just looking at this very peaceful view.

We drive on to Beaumaris on Angelsey Island and our home for the next three days.

The King is dead, long live the Queen

Back in Dublin and the revolution is on. The Tour Director for Ireland has resigned and the Tour Director for the UK is taking over. We are camped with our hosts Dee and Liam at Brookville House near Blackrock and a little to the south of Dublin. The Irish car has been returned and early tomorrow morning we will be on the fast ferry over to Holyhead.

There has been a minor revolution this evening and Yvonne has emerged as the Tour Director for the next stage of the travels. Long live the Tour Director.

The former Director was last seen staring over the waters and wondering how this revolution emerged. This is a good thing, he muses. Now he can sit back a bit and do some Tom Tom assisted navigation around Wales and Scotland before we get to the key Kingsley boat people in Bedford towards the end of next week.

We are more than satisfied with our travels around Ireland. This trip is at least on a par with other extended trips we have made over the last few years. We think we covered quite a bit of country, nearly 4,000 kms of driving, many kilometres of walking and we have talked with a lot of very friendly and helpful natives. We have enjoyed every minute, even the rain in Galway is well into our past.

The Butler of Kilkenny

For what was effectively our last touring day in Ireland, we decided to stick to our tried and proven process. We were staying in the city and just around the corner from the Butler family ghosts and Kilkenny castle so we took a self guided tour of this former home of the rich and powerful. The fellow tourist crowd was about, but enough for us to cope with. This castle, now in public hands, is a bit of a gem and we enjoyed our time there. You could think about just how these places come into being and about how many people were ground into oblivion to create them, but perhaps it is time to get over that and move on. Today the castle and the extensive grounds are enjoyed by thousands, now including us from down under.



From the castle we set out for a pilgrimage to the nearby area of Thomastown and then Inistioge. Went past ruined Jerpoint Abbey three times trying to find a native at home before actually stopping to visit this place which was taken out of existence by Henry XVIII and his fellow English bullies some time ago. A highlight for the day was Inistioge, a pretty little place tucked in between the hills and the river. Just to relax for a bit in the sun and along the picnic grounds was enjoyable and there were plenty of others doing the same. Of course we had afternoon tea at one of the cafes nearby.



From there we headed into Woodstock gardens which is a former grand estate now being gradually restored by the Republic. A wander around the gardens was again enjoyable. As with Inistioge, there were plenty of families letting youngsters release energy in the spacious expanses on a sunny day.

From there, it was a quiet drive back to Kilkenny, a quaint and pleasant small city in a good setting where we enjoyed our last touring dinner. It was time to turn our heads towards Dublin and prepare ourselves for the Welsh, English and Scots in the days ahead. With grimacing teeth, we have been keeping our eye on the BBC over the last few days to get up to speed on current affairs in the fading empire.



But perhaps I am a little ahead of myself here and my touring companion may haver other ideas for the day ahead.

In ,the Kats hurling team are a big item. Lousy colours but perhaps more sense that those blue and white pussy cats of Geelong.

Closing a boat loop

On Saturday, we took a day out for Randall to revisit boat people scenarios. We drove over to Cobh, once known as Queenstown to the English and once the port for Cork. We know that Randall's great great grandmother Eliza Sandford and point of origin for the Kingsley dynasty in Australia was held in Cork gaol for a year or so before taking the “Roslin Castle” from Cork to Australia in 1835.

So to close a loop, we spent a few minutes at Cobh.



Whilst there we visited the remarkable heritage centre, established at one end of the railway station. This centre has a strong focus on immigration by ship from Ireland, especially to the US and to Australia. The centre also covers the “Titanic” as this was the last port of call for “Titanic” before heading off to oblivion and “Lusitania” which sank near Cobh in 1915, itself creating something of an unresolved controversy. So there was plenty to take in and think about here. Enough to require a cup of tea and a scone afterwards.



Cobh may have been the last port of call for the immigrant ship “Joshua” and immigrants John Cassidy (16) and brother Patrick Cassidy (14) in 1857 but this has not been proven. They may have sailed from Donegal way or even Galway. Work for another day.

From Cobh we became temporary inmates in the old Cork gaol which now is also a museum worth a visit. With the accent we have, the woman at reception was a bit too quick to welcome Randall home again after all these years. We spent quite a moving hour or so there listening to recreated stories of the people once held there.



The two museum visits were taking a mental toll and so we repaired to nearby Kinsale for the rest of the afternoon. The sun was shining and everyone was out and about including the sailing boats.

Back on track and in Kerry

It did not take long on the mini bus on the Aran Islands before I had a rush of feelings, some not that positive and it set a bit of tone for the day and for some days to come. I was okay for the first 10 minutes or so whilst the driver cracked some jokes and gave a good run down on the island. We were left at the nearest spot for our 20 minutes walk up to the fort. Okay. But on the return and whilst awaiting driver, I filled in some time observing others around me. Like the 3 middle aged women who took 5 minutes to work out that to take the walk to the fort, one has to pass through the visitor centre and pay 2 euros for the privilege. Back and forth they went, arguing loudly about the price and the process. Like the young girls, in shorts and other not so good attire on a cool,windy day, huddling together in the doorway of the only entry to the fort. Eventually they reluctantly moved out of the doorway so that Yvonne can get a photo muttering something about “yes, we are from the US and we think we rule the world”. Then after a series of on the bus, off the bus activities I get the old anti tourist feeling and just want this mini tour to end.

Back in the “capital” of Innis Mor, the community feeling of the locals shines through as they watch the boat races and the music starts up on the quay where people are gathered. The older ones, mostly men, are talking “shop” and probably the weather and sport as they do all over the world. The younger ones are hunting in packs and eyeing others off as they go around. The next younger groups and families are intent on following the boat races and enjoying the events. All good stuff and community life seems strong amongst the 800 people who live on this remote place.

In Killarney several days later, it is wall to wall buses and glazed eye tourists wandering over twee streets. So I was pleased to get to Kenmare, a little out of the way but still on the Ring of Kerry, where we can re-establish out mode of self touring.



But back tracking now. For our last day at Castleconnell we took a fairly long drive over to the
southern end of the Burren and south of the Cliffs of Moher. We parked the car on the coast at Kilkee and walked along the cliffs from there. It was a terrific and simple thing to do and with a few minutes of walking the panorama opened up. It was quite a good day and the air was very clear. Magnificent 360 degrees views. This was what we had come to seek in Ireland.



We also enjoyed a few hours in and around Dingle town on our way to Kenmare. The vistas here were also very pleasant and the town was quite vibrant with plenty of visitors, Irish included as the holiday period is now upon us.



Several days later we did a similar thing in Kerry. This time we walked from Waterville to Scarriff Inn perched high up in the hills overlooking Ballinskelligs Bay and the Beara Peninsula. It was another perfect day and Yvonne did quite well again to handle the 15 kms walk up and over Farraniaragh mountain-twice. Second time around for Randall but many more stops to smell the roses and to take a few more photos of sheep - a bit of a thing with Yvonne.



The whole Kerry peninsula is almost picture perfect and from up in the hills this walk is just a series of sweeping views all around. We were pleased with our time here. Inspirational. We also had time to visit the family home of Daniel O'Connell “The Liberator”. This home is set in against the hills and quite protected. There are quite special gardens here than entice you to sit and just take in the environment. Mandatory spot for tea ans scones-again.



Saturday was the one day each year when a bicycle “fun”event takes place with over 3,000 participants riding the whole Ring of Kerry, over 200 kms. The riders must compete with normal traffic, including the many tour buses for space on the narrow roads. We will not be hanging around here for that.