Day four

After a huge night in Galway, we packed up and headed out on the road. Our first stop for the morning was the Knock Shrine. In 1879, a whole bunch of people saw what they believed was an apparition of Mary, St Joseph and John the Baptist, in the local church. The church has now become a shrine and is visited by thousands of pilgrims every year. Pope John Paul II visited there in 1979, and its popularity isn't showing signs of decreasing.

It does say knock...

The entrance to the church.

From Knock we headed over to Sligo, where William Butler Yeats is buried. Plenty of other famous people have come from Sligo, including Westlife, although we were banned from mentioning their existence by our bus driver. It was almost worth tempting fate, if there wasn't a chance we'd be left behind!

William Butler Yeats' grave.

After a rambunctious lunch and a frolick down the street, we got back onto the bus and headed over the border into Northern Ireland. We had a bit of an odd moment just before we crossed the border - we stopped for fuel, and Connor suggested that while we wait, we buy an ice cream. Suddenly 50 of us were standing around eating ice cream - Connor said it, we did it. He figured he had some power over us by then, but it didn't last.

We stopped for the afternoon in Derry. The official name of the city remains Londonderry, but the council are trying to officially change the name. Nationalists (Catholics) would rather have no reference at all to London, Unionists (Protestants) stand firm on maintaining the link to Great Britain. We tried to just not refer to it by name at all for fear of offending someone! We were in Derry to do a walking tour. The guide had to be one of the worst I've ever seen. He started the tour by lecturing us to stay close to him so that we could hear, and that we wouldn't be able to complain about not hearing him if we didn't essentially stand in each other's pockets. He then proceeded to barely speak above a whisper. Whilst standing on the side of busy roads at rush hour. Totally smart. I doubt more than the closest 5 people could hear him, and even they would have caught only every second or third word. The walking tour was essentially a waste of time, because I've learnt far more about the place from doing my own reading afterwards than I did on the tour.

Unionist areas are noted by the red, white and blue gutters.

Some of the many murals painted on the ends of houses.

The memorial for the victims of the Bloody Sunday massacre.

We left Derry after the tour and headed for our final destination for the day. This was easily my favourite of the places where we spent the night. On the way in to Ballintoy we were told that there were just two pubs, and to try and split ourselves between them. Team Nerd stuck together for dinner, with a plan to go across the road afterwards to have a drink. In the end we stayed right where we were. We had a fantastic meal, far too much food, and lots of drinks. This pub was where the Grasshoppa met and had a little crush on Rodney, the singer, and where I totally peer pressured her into fulfilling one of her dreams - singing an Irish love song in an Irish pub. I'd have apologised for bullying her, but it was totally worth it!

Grasshoppa, the Captain and the DPA at the pub in Ballintoy. Can't remember why they were pointing at me!

Grasshoppa singing her song.

This was the place where we rang in my 27th birthday with a couple of Bushmills. We were of course still there enjoying ourselves at midnight, so it was only natural to start the celebrations early! It was also the place where Cliff made his second and somewhat surprising appearance. I'm not sure if I ever told Grasshoppa how that came about!

Day three

Day three dawned far too bright and far too early for our liking. We spent most of the morning driving, headed for the Cliffs of Moher. The weather had held up thus far, but it was set to change, albeit temporarily. We stopped for lunch, with Team Nerd as we were quickly becoming congregating in a pub around two small tables. This led to the now-infamous 'circle of trust' incident (which is understood by fellow team members, but is too long-winded to explain here). Suffice to say I was left with a circle and Grasshoppa lost hers.

The weather by this stage was turning grey and misty. We'd hoped to have it clear off before we arrived at the Cliffs of Moher, but it was to be the one single disappointment of the tour. The cliffs rise up to 214m where we visited, but visibility was down to 2 or 3 metres or so. Ridiculous! The wind was whipping around us, and we were hit with rain and spray from the waves below. It was insane, and yet loads of fun. The best picture of the cliffs in the end was a picture of a picture - taken inside the visitor centre. Oh well, I'll just have to go back again!

The spectacular and wondrous Cliffs of Moher. Or not.

Ghost cows!

Trying to cross the path - more difficult than it should have been!

The picture of a picture - the cliffs as they should have looked.

From the Cliffs of Moher (and from Cliff the puffin's first appearance - perfectly timed) we continued north to the Burren. This is a huge (250 square kilometre) area made up mainly of limestone with crevices in it that allow the growth of Arctic, Mediterranean and alpine plants side by side. It's amazing to see it spread out in all directions. We wandered around here for a while, exploring the various plants and bugs and things that we could see. Eventually though it was time to move on, headed for Galway, after a pit stop in a tiny town whose name we never knew.

Heading out to explore the Burren.

The Captain taking a moment.

The Captain and Grasshoppa.

We were spending the night there, on the same night that the Volvo Ocean Race was in town. It was utter madness, but lots of fun. The usual shenanigans made their presence felt - group dinner, followed by a couple of pubs, lots of Guiness, lots of giggles and this time, the need for a designated wingman for a certain Grasshoppa who was wearing a hardcore pair of beer goggles!

Day two

We were up bright and early the next morning, in fact too early for most people. Tamara and I decided to go for a wander around downtown Killarney to kill some time. Along the way we ran into Jen, whom we'd met the night before. Most people were nursing their first hangover of the tour, and Jen was out for a run! Insanity. We told her to do a lap for us and sent her on her way, before making our way back to the hostel for breakfast.

Once we got going for the day, our first stop was just down the road a little. We got dropped off at Killarney National Park, for a ride around the park in a horse drawn jaunting car. Somehow or other our little group that had formed the night before ended up in the same cart, to be driven by - I kid you not - Tom and Jerry. We were the last of the jaunting cars to depart, so we were following all of the others. I think some of the others might have wished we were further behind! Our driver was hilarious, he was telling jokes like being a comedian was his profession and he drove the cart for fun. Consequently, we were roaring with laughter the whole time - definitely a good way to spend a morning. Another highlight was seeing a stag. The park is home to Ireland's only remaining wild herd of red deer, and this one stag came out to say hello. Sure, Jerry told us he'd arranged it especially for us, and that his name was Seamus - even better as far as we were concerned!

Ross Castle, Killarney National Park.

Seamus!

Tom and Jerry.

Eventually we left the park, bellies and ribs aching from laughing so much. We also departed Killarney, on our way to the Dingle Peninsula. We did stop at the top of the hill overlooking Killarney for a bit of a frolick, and then it was back on the bus, headed for the beach. Now, I say beach, but in my head I'm denying that it was any such thing! First of all, we pulled up on the side of a cliff, and had to negotiate our way down to the sand in a stiff wind, climbing down the rocks, in pluggers. Not an easy feat. Why we did it, I'm still not sure! The water was a loooooooong way out, and it was freezing. Yes, it was May, but that meant nothing! It was ridiculously cold, given that the sun was shining and it was Spring, but it was worth it for a good laugh with the girls.

Looking back towards Killarney.

After imitating some kind of monkey and climbing back up the cliff, we headed for our lunch stop - the town of Dingle. The Dingle Peninsula is the most westerly point in Ireland, and indeed in Europe. It's a seaside town in a gorgeous location, and is also a Gaelic speaking town. Luckily for us though, being a tourist town, they also speak English! The town is also famous for its resident dolphin, Fungi, who comes in regularly to meet and greet the locals and tourists alike. There is a bronze statue of Fungi in the town, which of course we had to have photos taken with. The other famous place in Dingle is Foxy John's, a combination hardware store and pub. Apparently it's a hardware store by day, pub by night - every man's dream!


After fish and chips for lunch in Dingle, we headed along a coastal road around Slea Head. There were stunning views, and we even hopped out of bus to walk part of the way. This stroll included various stops for photos, including a few ridiculous ones the likes of which won't be posted here. Eventually we made it to the ruins of an old church, however I don't remember the details of this as I broke my own golden rule and forgot to take a photo of the sign. My bad.



Eventually we carried on a little further, arriving in the small village of Annascaul, where we were to spend the night in a fluorescent green hostel called the Randy Leprachaun. We took a moment to discover that the shower in our room didn't work, before heading into the bar for dinner and a rowdy night of tunes, Guiness, pool, dancing and karaoke. There were also some jaeger-bombs involved, but I think those drinking them would really prefer to forget... It was only our second night away, but we carried on until we were kicked out of the pub - again!