Part 38 - Irelands and Losing My Travel Partner, August, Sep 2019

Part 38 – Irelands and Losing My Travel Partner

It was a beautiful ride to the ferry terminal at Cairnryan, Scotland. Rain fell and blustery winds blew throughout the morning but visibility was reasonably good. Isabelle and I arrived at 10 o’clock for the 11:30 ferry to Belfast. The 2 ½ hour crossing of the Irish Sea was a little rough but the massive ship barely rocked. We enjoyed coffee and treats while sitting comfortably inside the ship’s cafeteria. It was nothing like our time on The Stahlratte had been.

Two years earlier, Isabelle and I spent a long night on a schooner crossing the Caribbean Sea from Panama to Colombia. Ours were two of seven motorcycles lashed tightly to the ship’s upper deck. This protected the motos from flying around each time the little ship climbed up big waves then raced down the other sides of them. Tarpaulins offered scant protection for the motos against the salty effects of the rough sea. There was however no protection against the sea's rocky effects for the seven riders lying below deck in their bunks. All but one of them succumbed to nausea. Even one member of the four-person crew became ill as the Stahlratte lurched and rolled, her tall masts arcing back and forth across the starry sky.

We arrived with no ill effects in Belfast and rode off the ship toward our campground. The Dun Donald was a municipal campground operated by the town of the same name, a suburb of Belfast. It was clean and modern with a reassuringly high fence and tall hedges around the perimeter. Key pad access was needed to open the vehicle and adjacent pedestrian gates.  The service building had similar controls. An attendant was on-site continuously.

Municipal Anti-Paramilitary Message

A city bus took us all the way to City Hall, the meeting place for a walking tour the next morning. Rachel, our guide was a spirited performer who guided her group up and down streets and through several emotions. She shared her personal background with the group.

Rachel was born in Belfast 45 years earlier. Her father was threatened when Rachel was young. The family moved to Dublin but often visited relatives in Belfast. Rachel moved to London to complete graduate studies and stayed there for 25 years, not able to bring herself back to “The Troubles” in Belfast. She said many young people moved away from Northern Ireland during that time.

The Good Friday Agreement of 1998 changed all of that. Rachel returned to Belfast three years prior to our tour. She said she was overwhelmed by the positive changes brought about by the cessation of violence. She was filled with hope for the place she loved so much. She felt that it would take more time, at least the passing of the older generations, before lingering resentments were replaced by the optimism and cultural tolerances held by younger people.

She stressed that the Troubles were more about power and money and less about religion. She told us that colonization of Ireland by the English began around 600 years ago, a time when England was Catholic. Later, industrialization in the 18^th and 19^th centuries combined with access to massive markets throughout the British Empire brought great wealth to Ireland’s mostly Protestant elite. This was a time when England had finished its religious wars and had settled into being Protestant. Identifying someone in Ireland as Catholic or Protestant was a simple, convenient way to establish a class system where Catholics were peasants and ineligible for membership in the Protestant aristocracy.

Rachel said, “Catholics were treated badly throughout Ireland, excluded from positions of privilege and over incarcerated. They were denied employment or relegated to low level service jobs. Factory jobs involved long, dangerous days for low pay.”

 She continued with, “A revolt in the early twentieth century resulted in the partitioning of Ireland. A border between The North and the rest of Ireland was established. Unrest simmered then boiled over in violence from the late 1960’s until the late 1990’s. The Bogside Massacre of 1972, also known as Bloody Sunday, was an important catalyst that accelerated that violence.”

Rachel told us, “Decades later, that very same incident became a catalyst for reconciliation. British Prime Minister David Cameron apologised on behalf of the British People to the Irish for the illegal behavior of British troops on Bloody Sunday. His apology went a long way with moderate young people who wanted change, an end to the violence they had known all their lives.”

Rachel told us that even today it was common for a “Paramilitary” (Rachel and everyone else used the word as a noun) to actively recruit members from high schools and from the streets. She told us that both sides were still served by several different Paramilitaries. Isabelle and I had seen posters on buses and billboards in Belfast claiming, “Paramilitaries don’t help you. They control you.” The posters usually showed the face of a battered and bloodied young man.  Rachel told us that during the Troubles, Paramilitaries (armed political action groups) had been de-facto police forces. They kept order in Belfast neighborhoods; kneecapping someone, even for a petty offense, proved to be an effective method of crime prevention.

Rachel said, “Back in the day the streets were safe.  People relied on the Paramilitaries.”

The use of a label like, “Paramilitary” or “Terrorist Organization” depended on one’s point of view in the conflict. Regardless what label was used they all planted bombs.

The next day we learned more about the complex issue known as, “The Troubles.” Our two new guides had both been active members of opposing Paramilitaries. They each took us separately on a walking tour on opposite sides of the “Peace Wall”, the solid wall that divided East and West Belfast. The high concrete wall was topped with sturdy fencing. The barrier was too tall to throw over a petrol bomb. It was Sunday so all the razor wire-topped gates, save one, were closed and locked. We were assured that as visitors we would be perfectly safe walking in neighborhoods on either side of the Peace Wall.

Street Scene near the Peace Wall

Our first guide was Paul in West Belfast, the Republican side. Paul began by defining his point of view. He had been an active member of a Republican Paramilitary during The Troubles and had spent time in prison as a political prisoner. He had taken part in the “Blanket Protest” against the removal of Special Status for prisoners who were members of the Provisional Irish Republican Army (Provisional IRA). The Blanket Protest was followed by hunger protests. Bobby Sands, the leader of the 1981 Hunger Strike, died in HM Prison Maze after 66 days on hunger strike. His actions and death were publicized internationally.

Bobby Sands Mural on Sinn Fein Offices

Poster on West Side

Paul appeared to be about 65 years old. He spoke in a level voice, listing facts as he saw them, without emotion. He told of political events that led to the conflict and how the conflict developed and escalated. He showed us a derelict school house where the first shots of the Troubles were fired. Members of the IRA had set up a firing point one evening on the roof of the local school to defend the neighboring church from a “unionist mob”. Bullet holes were still evident on the abandoned school’s façade. Paul also showed us memorial gardens scattered throughout the neighborhood that were dedicated to Nationalist casualties, . He did not overtly appeal to our emotions or make overtures to gain sympathy for his cause; he also was unapologetic for the attacks on Unionists.

Murals on the West Side of the Peace Wall

He told us the bombing campaign began with the intent of creating economic damage. Twenty minute warnings were given by the bombers to allow people to safely evacuate.

Locked Gate on Peace Wall

Paul said, “At first, British peace keeping troops were seen as impartial. They were welcomed by Republicans but that soon changed; Bloody Sunday took care of that. Republican attacks shifted to target British soldiers and high ranking Unionists.”

Memorial on West Side of The Peace Wall

After the first 1 ½ hours of the tour Paul took us to the open gate in the Peace Wall where we met Brent. Someone asked Paul if he thought there might come a day when he would go through the gate to the other side of the Peace Wall.

“Oh no,” he answered.

Peace Wall - West Side

Peace Wall - East Side

Handover at the Gate (Paul in blue golf shirt, Brent in red jacket)

Brent was a 75 year old Unionist. After introducing himself he led us through rusty gates across a connecting street to the Unionist neighborhoods on the east side of the Peace Wall. Brent’s style was less matter of fact and more emotional. He immediately appealed to his audience’s sense of justice. His tour was filled with details of Republican attacks on Unionists during The Troubles. He showed us plaques, photos and monuments on the east side of the wall that commemorated bombing deaths of Unionists and bystanders, sometimes the victims were women and children. Tragically, deaths of civilian bystanders were common. 

West Side Memorial Plaque

Complimentary to what we had seen in the west, in East Belfast Isabelle and I saw a proliferation of posters, plaques, propaganda and Union Jacks. Photos of bombing victims from happier times were common and demonstrated a real attempt to humanize the victims.

Mural on the East Side of the Peace Wall

West Side Scene

“You have to remember,” said Brent, “this neighborhood was their home and this was their neighborhood pub.” He gestured with his arm. “The IRA claimed they were just targeting high ranking Unionists when they bombed a pub or a shop but there were other people inside too.”

Brent showed us monuments and gardens that celebrated Unionist heroes and their bravery. One mural showed 5 youths, each with a charming boyish grin, posing in the street with a gun. The five were set out as champions who had paid the ultimate price. The youngsters had been elevated to positions of fame and glory. Accompanying words painted on the brick wall spoke romantically of bravery and youthful imprudence that so often causes young soldiers to become casualties in an armed conflict. It was clear that Brent’s aim in showing us the mural was to humanize those who were willing combatants along with those victims who were innocent bystanders. His emotional effect was dulled by what he said next.

Mural of Ulster Volunteers

“The one taking a knee was shot while planting a bomb in West Belfast. Two more of the boys died when the bomb they were bringing to plant ignited prematurely.” Brent’s earlier condemnations of bombing attacks evidently applied only to Republican bombs. He too was unapologetic for the shootings and bombings.

Someone in the group asked, “Would you like to see the Peace Wall come down?”

Brent answered, “No, not in my lifetime anyhow. If the wall were not there each night there would be terrible things happen on both sides. No, we’re much better off with it than without it.”

The Troubles lasted thirty years, 3500 people lost their lives:

-          16%  were members of paramilitary groups on both sides

-          32% were members of British Security Forces, and

-          52% were civilians.

Perhaps Rachel had been correct about Ireland needing its older generations to die off before resolution and healing could really take place. Isabelle and I were confused by what we had seen and heard. We discussed The Troubles for days after visiting Belfast. Once again, a little bit of learning had led to tangled thoughts and more questions than answers.

The wind and rain finally got the better of Isabelle and me. We had moved to the north-west corner of the island of Ireland. The same mist we first encountered on the Isle of Skye was once more with us. It was forecast to remain for two more weeks. The fine mist penetrated everything in minutes, even the ignition switch on my moto. I found that a plastic bag held in place over the keys and around the ignition unit with elastic bands protected my ignition from what we began to call “Skye Mist.” The MacGyver worked, the engine started every time.

After a few more days we abandoned our attempt to ride Ireland’s famed, “Wild Atlantic Way.” The mist and fog made it impossible to see anything. Atmospheric and road conditions made riding more dangerous and put our stress levels up. Airbnb and cheaper prices in Ireland came to the rescue; we arranged to have hard walls and an actual roof over us for the remainder of Isabelle’s time in Ireland. Our first night was spent chatting with Jimmy and Ann in their lovely home south of Galway. We drank tea and discussed Ireland’s history, the Troubles as well as Brexit and what it could mean for Ireland. Jimmy told us lots about various corrupt Irish politicians, a favorite subject for him.

A short window of lighter showers was forecast for the next morning so we rode to the coast. The wind became stronger and stronger. Approaching the carpark, two blasts of wind on our left threatened to push us off the narrow country road. We visited the Cliffs of Moher, one of the most visited sites in Ireland along with hundreds of other tourists. We went first to the visitor centre and began with a short film. Afterward there were presentations about the geomorphological history of the cliffs and other displays that covered native plants and animals. Then we followed the paths outside that led to the actual cliffs.

Cliffs of Moher

We heard people howling and laughing as we approached. Then we saw that people were being thrown about by the irregular, strong winds that day. Some were actually blown off their feet. I stopped to help one man who had been blown down on some steps. Then I continued up the steps, bracing heavily forward against the wind. Something hit me lightly a few times in the space between the fold of my toque and my sunglasses. Looking down, I noticed little bits of gravel ricocheting off me. That explained the stings I had felt on exposed skin.

Tork Mountain Hike

Isa and I stayed long enough to explore most of the site. An extended cliff walk would have been both unpleasant and dangerous in those powerful gusts. We had finally encountered winds that rivaled those of Patagonia. The winds at the Cliffs of Moher were harder to walk in because they swirled unpredictably. I lost my balance more than once but avoided falling completely over. Patagonia’s wind had been more powerful, also more constant and predictable. Patagonian wind was relatively easy to brace against, especially when crouching. 

Tork Mountain Hike

We left the site and carried on southward, riding for two hours on dual carriageways. We arrived on a fresh layer of washed gravel covering Betty’s front drive. She came out of her white house bursting with smiles and warm greetings. We had booked a full week in the charming country house in which she had brought up her seven children. Isa and I looked forward to talking with real local people and exploring cultural connections in the next few weeks. Airbnb would make available to us perfect opportunities to make those connections. We began with a decidedly rural setting near Killarney National Park.

Killarney National Park

The first morning at Betty’s was sunny and gorgeous. We spent most of the day drying camping gear and washing sleeping bags. I rode into nearby Millstreet for groceries. I walked out of the supermarket with a huge amount of food for just 16 Euros. Food prices were great in Ireland. The next morning was rainy so I worked at the computer and Isa finished some tasks from the previous day. She also made a wonderful vegetable soup. Later, the rain stopped and I took advantage of the dry spell to service the chain on Isa’s moto.

Coastal Scene On Ring of Kerry

That afternoon, the coal man arrived with a delivery. Betty used coal in a small fireplace to heat the kitchen and sitting room she used throughout the day. She had a 40 year old oil-burning kitchen oven that had a small boiler attached to it. The “new” stove was connected to radiators that had been installed throughout the house. Betty still preferred the old ways, only heating the kitchen and sitting room she used during the day. She told stories from her childhood of collecting peat to use as fuel in the winter.  Her habits afforded frugality. Even with mild winters, it probably took a lot of energy to heat the whole house with its single pane windows and uninsulated ceilings over concrete walls and floors.

Skellig Michael (scenes from Star Wars filmed there)

Isa and I finished the day with a two hour walk past farms and tiny villages on a loop back to Betty’s place. We even saw a grass airstrip, “The Banteer Aerodrome.” In one fenced yard we saw rounds of hay that had been wrapped in black plastic and stacked in the sun to ferment. Throughout our time in Ireland we only saw small, irregularly shaped fields. Barns and other out buildings were few and small, some had been left to ruin. Many fields seemed unused. Plantings were typically small and featured varied crops. Grazing was by far the most common land use. Never did we see evidence of the massive single crop mechanized agribusinesses ubiquitous on mainland Europe.

Cahergall Stone Fort, Kerry Penninsula

Inside Cahergall (probably a fortified farmhouse)

Betty’s place had given us the opportunity to rest. Energy soon returned; Isabelle and I struck out on day trips to see the countryside. The weather was better too. We began by visiting the town of Killarney and hiking the Tork Mountain trail in the national park. We also spent a day riding the stunning, “Ring of Kerry”. That day began with showers but visibility was perfect by the time we reached the dramatic Cliffs of Kerry. We had been advised to take the route in a clockwise direction because coaches were restricted to travel in the opposite direction. The road was too narrow for them to pass each other. It was good advice. All day we enjoyed the freedom to look around at stunning scenery on traffic free roads that were thrilling to ride.

Cliffs of Kerry

"Beehive Houses" as seen in the Movie, "Star Wars"

On the Ring of Kerry

On the Ring of Kerry

After a relaxing week at Betty’s we said goodbye to her. All three of us posed for a photo in front of her white country house. Betty was a warm, authentic person with whom we had many meaningful and interesting conversations. Isa and I learned much about southern and rural life from her. She made us feel at home. Staying with Betty had been the perfect Airbnb experience.

We rode along another portion of the Wild Atlantic Way, stopping at “Windswept Cottage.” The house had been the home of Fiona’s parents, Paul and Mary, for many years. We hoped to knock on the door and introduce ourselves to the new owners, acquaintances of Paul and Mary’s. We had to be satisfied with a photo from the street when there was no answer at the door. 

On the Ring of Kerry

We arrived after four o’clock at Claire and Dan’s Airbnb home near Cork City. They too would make an impression on us. During our stay with Claire and Dan we rode to check out the Brittany Ferries dock. My ticket was for a 20 hour crossing to Roscoff, France beginning on 21 Sep. I had booked a cabin for the overnight journey. We also visited Cobh (pronounced Cove), a port town that had been the final stop for the Titanic before it crossed the Atlantic on its tragic maiden voyage. Cobh was the launch point for many Irish emigrants. It was easy to imagine Jack, a peasant character in the movie, “Titanic” gambling and sneaking onto the ship from the rough little port town that Cobh must have been in 1912.

Cobh Scene

We had just missed the last boat to Spike Island, in Cobh Bay, to visit the Abbey and the decommissioned prison. Passengers from a gigantic cruise ship that was tied up in town filled the restaurants and made it difficult for Isabelle and me to find a table for lunch. We got lucky and settled down at a table for two in the restaurant at the Imperial Hotel. We enjoyed muscles and fish chowder with plenty of dark “soda bread” for dipping.

Cobh Marina and Adjacent Park

The town was interesting to walk around and we stepped inside the cathedral for a visit. It looked sturdy and airy at the same time. Modern materials and building techniques made that uplifting combination possible. Like most Catholic churches in Ireland it was quite new, built sometime after the “Roman Catholic Relief Act” was passed by British Parliament in 1829. We finished the day with a nice long chat with Claire and Dan over tea, back at the house.

Cobh Cathedral

The next day’s walking tour of Cork was interesting; afterward, Isa and I became engrossed in conversation about things we had seen and learned on the tour. We carried our conversation through lunch, eating sandwiches in the only park we could find.

The park was small and there was lots of excitement at a nearby park bench with people happily coming and going. Complicated handshakes were exchanged. It took a moment for it to dawn on us; a local drug dealer was holding court equipped with a fresh stash of goods. We woke up more to our surroundings and noticed uniformed school children eating lunch and socializing on the grass nearby. Homeless people who looked uniformly desperate passed bottles among themselves. A uniformed policeman accompanied an upset looking young girl outside the park. She wore the heavy makeup and uniform of an ancient profession. The port city of Cork, Ireland’s second largest city and the launch point for many who fled from the potato famine of the 1840’s, had undoubtedly seen its share of troubles.

We rode to “Motofeirme” (Moto Farm) and met Martin, a farmer near Kinsale. We also met Lina, a young boarder at Martin’s farm. Martin owned a motorcycle storage business. He also bought, sold and arranged for Irish registration of motorcycles for international clients. Isabelle and I planned to store our bikes there, returning to Europe for subsequent trips. The BMW mechanic in Riga had stripped the hex-head of a cowling bolt on Isa’s motorcycle. I discovered it in Martin’s yard when attempting to disconnect the battery for storage. Martin kindly drilled off the head of the bolt allowing me to get at the battery.

All four of us then piled into Martin’s pickup truck and drove into Kinsale for lunch. Martin is an avid moto-overlander. We swapped stories over lunch and learned a little about Lina too. She was on an 18 month work/study visa from France to improve her English and to learn about farming. After lunch Martin took us through some farm fields in his four-wheel-drive Toyota to an overlook of Kinsale and Fort Charles that guarded the small harbour.

The next day Isa and I said goodbye to Claire and Dan. We had enjoyed another positive and educational Airbnb experience in their rural home near Cork City. We rode through clouds and then light rain to a final Airbnb in Ashbourne, a suburb of Dublin. Along the way we stopped for lunch at Happy Pear vegan restaurant for some tasty food.

We visited downtown Dublin and really enjoyed Dave’s spirited walking tour. Dave was energetic, animated and opinionated. He was very Irish and very proud of the transformation his Ireland had undergone in the previous 30 years. Dave’s telling of Ireland’s history, Viking domination followed by British colonization and eventual emancipation in modern times, was by then familiar to Isa and me.  Like Rachel, our first guide in Belfast, Dave felt that Ireland’s modern transformation was nothing but positive. Dave emphasized Ireland’s secularization and growing immigration, no longer emigration, as drivers improving everything about Ireland.

Great 70's Rock/Blues Performer

Decorated Pub, Dublin

Even More Flashy Pub in Dub.

On our second last day in Dublin we met Sylvia and Steve, Debbie and Barrie for dinner at the Temple Bar. They were on a whirlwind tour of Europe, meticulously planned by Sylvia. The Temple was jam packed so we walked to another restaurant Isa had scouted the previous day. It was called the Merchant Arch Bar and we had a fabulous time there. The company and food were first rate. The singers were wonderful too.

Famous Dublin Pub Patron

Isabelle and I spent our last day together at the Irish National Ploughing Match. An annual agricultural fair, it had become a huge tradition in Ireland. Hundreds of vendors and service providers set up display booths at the agricultural trade show. "How to" exhibits included Black Smithing and hand milking. Prize winning animals of all sorts were on display.We watched show jumping and sheep shearing contests but missed the end of the day’s ploughing. The event drew 100,000 people on each of three mid-week days.

One of 100,000 that Day

Blacksmith Demonstration

Several Adjudicators in white coats recorded quality, not just speed

There were many competitors

Newest and Best Available for Purchase

"Make Me an Offer"

The next morning Isabelle caught a flight, this time returning home injury free. Our flights had been booked six months in advance to include an autumn leg to Spain and Morocco, when the weather would be milder. From the beginning, we had planned for Isabelle to return home from Ireland to help her mother. Isa felt that a full six months away from her mother would have been too much. My solo trip to North Africa was to be a reconnaissance to help plan a future trip with Isabelle. It seemed logical at the time of booking that I should complete the Morocco leg by myself. That frosty morning in Dublin, when saying goodbye to Isabelle, the logic seemed less clear. I would miss sharing the road, discovering and learning with my best friend and travel buddy.

Gonna Miss That Girl