Why Go Sligo? Why Not!

Start: A crappy little room in Avalon House, Dublin

Finish: A charming little room at Strandhill Lodge, Strandhill, Co. Sligo

We got up this morning at 0540 so that we could catch our 0620 shuttle to the airport and be there before 0700, when we were scheduled to pick up our car.

That’s right- our car.  Today was officially Day One of our Wrong Side of the Roadtrip, starring Nathan’s ability to split his brain two ways and my ability to shut the hell up and let him drive, damn it.  We were both mostly successful at these things, and mostly forgiving of the other when they slipped up.  And, to be completely honest, it only took Nathan about fifteen minutes before his knuckles returned to a normal color, and mine only took an additional ten to follow suit…

Our first stop was the visitor’s center at Bru na Boinne.  Everything I’d come across had said that the queues could be outrageous, and that they only let in a certain amount of people each day, regardless, so one had best get there early.  Therefore, we got there early.  So early we were the first ones at the door.  So early they were not yet open.  So early we said a cheerful hullo to at least three workers on their way in.

Things to do while waiting for a Thing to open.

But we didn’t have to stand in a queue, damn it, and we were on the first tours of the day.

The bus took us up to Knowth first, which is the less well known of the three sights (Newgrange being the most well-known, Dowth the least), but pretty friggin’ awesome nonetheless.  We had a wonderfully enthusiastic tour guide, and since our tour was relatively small, I got a chance to nerd out with him over the book Temples of Stone, which I’d read in preparation for our trip and thereby recognized it when he quoted it (geekery knows no international boundaries).  The tour was approximately  thirty minutes long, which left us with about ten minutes to wander, which was not enough time at all, and I barely even got even one rock drawn and could happily have spent another hour there at least, but back on the bus we got, so we could be returned to the info center and herded onto the second bus, which took us out to Newgrange.

Ireland ROCKS!  HAH!

I was a giant fan of this tour guide, as well- her name was Lisa and her Irish accent was so thick I wanted to spread it on soda bread and eat it.  She did not have time for shenanigans, but was good natured about it, and we joked about the little kids playing fiddles (poorly) for tips down by the bus (“I believe they are relying more on their red hair and freckles than any natural talent,” I observed, to which she replied, “It’s shair tohrture!  Ye go down fer yer break an’ t’air t’ey are, screechin’ away!  We need t’get reid o’ t’em!”) (I’ve noticed many Irish seem to eschew the “th” noise.)

The tour was larger this time around (damn late-comers), which meant a rather improbable number of us squeezed our way down into the passage tomb (which is how I learned I am comfortably Neolithic-sized) and got quite cozy as they turned out the lights to do a demonstration of what happens at winter solstice (I squeezed Nathan’s fingers in the blackness and tried not to think about how many tons of earth were above my head).  And then the light came and all was well again- which, when you think about it, is not a bad experience at all if one is wanting to get a handle on Neolithic life patterns…

And then it was back once more to the info center, where we did a leisurely stroll through the exhibit before taking off in our car again, this time bound for Kells.

I’ll admit, I was excepting Kells to be just sort of a little historical site in the mud- but as it turns out it’s a little city, and a pleasant one at that.  We stopped for lunch and ran into the same problem of pubs-that-only-serve-alcohol, but the bartender at the Blackwater kindly pointed us towards the Keltic, which he assured us would have good food.

He was right.  The service was exceptionally slow, but it was friendly and the grub was tasty.  Also, as we sat there, a hurling match came on (a rather important one, if I read the spectators correctly) and I was introduced to that quintessential Irish sport.  It was fascinating, and I wished we’d been able to stay and watch a full match- or at least long enough for me to figure out what the heck was going on.  I was deeply shocked that I’d never really heard of the sport- it seemed to me that the Irish take it even more seriously than football, so how is it possible it’s escaped my notice for so many years?  I just don’t know… but it did suddenly make a certain scene from the O’Brianbooks a hell of a lot more funny (Stephen shows up to play cricket with his English shipmates, except he’s playing it like a hurling match and scaring the bejeezus out of the lot of them).

After that we walked towards some promising-looking church towers, and discovered a very pleasant little churchyard, complete with high crosses and a round tower (which I recognized from the movie).  And then it suddenly became apparent that something I’d eaten had had sneak-gluten in it, and I had to dash back to the restaurant.  Which was excellent proof that the Glutenflam I’ve been taking has not just been placebo.

From Kells it is about a two-and-a-half hour drive to Sligo, except it was a great deal longer for us because a) I made Nathan stop and take a half-hour nap and b) once he was refreshed he started pulling over for more photos.  That’s my man…

The little bed and breakfast we’re staying at here in Strandhill (just 8km west of Sligo!) is absolutely wonderful.  In fact, everything about this place is wonderful.  I’m pretty sure I’m in love.  Or possibly that’s the shot of Jameson I just took in memory of my grandmother, Jimmie, who would surely approve of my rambling ways.