A Friday Funny

There are not a lot of countries in the world that still drive on the left side of the road which is the right side for them. Let's try that again. The countries who drive on the left side of the road, drive on the correct side for their traffic laws. It does make it confusing for those of us used to driving on the right side of the road which, in our home country, is the right side of the road--make that the correct side of the road for us. Confused? So is the driver who rents a car in a country such as Ireland for the first time.

Several years ago my husband's brother and sister-in-law joined us for a road trip through Ireland. Actually it was a trip around Ireland as the path we mapped out took us more around the exterior coastline of the country. My brother-in-law had never driven in a country where the correct side of the road is the left side. Needless to say he was quite nervous. I'm guessing my sister-in-law's feelings bordered more on petrified.

We were all to arrive around the same time in Dublin and Bob, who had a lot more experience with driving on the left would have driven from the airport and given his brother the opportunity to drive when it was less hectic. Unfortunately a hurricane foiled our plans. Bob and I were delayed when our flight was canceled--for two days! Our travel companions had managed to make it out of their city just before all the air traffic shutdowns.

When we finally made it to Dublin, they picked us up at the airport looking a little shaken but very proud of themselves for having survived several days on their own and driving back and forth to the airport. "The biggest problem we had," he said, "was the roundabout. Bad enough I was on the wrong side of the road but then I had to figure out how to get out of the circle." It had taken them several go rounds before they managed their way out.

The first week or so went quite well with Bob driving mostly and his brother on occasion to even out the responsibility. We laughed a lot about the rental place saying the most important thing was to bring the car back with both side mirrors. It didn't take long to discover that some of the roads were extremely narrow and had brick or stone walls bordering them. The walls were usually covered in ivy making them look softer than they were. Passing an oncoming car left little space between the cars and the walls. The other piece of advice was to remember to veer left to avoid something, not to the right into traffic.

The incident that had us truly laughing though--afterward--was on a narrow dirt and gravel road that led back to some site on our list to see. There wasn't any traffic to speak of and we seemed to have the road to ourselves. Bob's brother was driving and we started up a slight hill which blocked our view of anything coming on the other side. We no sooner crested the hill and we met a car head on. Both drivers did what came naturally. They veered to one side. Thankfully, the other driver must have been another American because we both veered to the right. The laughter was a good release from the fright we had.

Oh, and the rental agency was very happy to see us return the car with both side mirrors still attached.

Irish Treasure

In my quest to discover what secret I might create to write about in a new mystery book, Secrets Among The Shamrocks, I started researching treasure that has been discovered in Ireland. There's a lot to feed this novelist's imagination.

Two boys, Paddy Flanagan and Jim Quinn, were digging in a potato field near Ardagh, Co Limerick, and found a chalice from the 8th or 9th century that also contained several brooches. I remember my brother and I digging in a field that belonged to our neighbor. All we discovered were potatoes but thought it was a real treasure. When we took them to my mother, she made us return them to our neighbor and apologize for digging in his potato field.

Irish peat bog

Now the next story gives me a little more to chew on. In 1945 a man digging in a peat bog (they dry the peat and use it for heat in the winter) found gold jewelry. The items were over 4,000 years old. He kept them for a time then for some reason gave them to the village pharmacist who put them in his safe. They stayed there for over 50 years which is when the story gets even better. Some burglars broke into the pharmacy and stole the safe. The pharmacist then informed the police that there were some artifacts in the safe that the National Museum might interested in. With some good detective work the burglars were found and the artifacts recovered and eventually put on display in the museum.

And then there is the mystery of the Crown Jewels which really don't involve a crown and had little to do with coronations. The jewels were under the safe keeping of the Ulster King of Arms. They were discovered stolen in 1907. They had been kept in a bank vault until 1903 when they were moved to a safe in the library of the Dublin Castle. A man named Sir Arthur Vicars was in charge of the two keys to the safe. He reportedly lost one for a time but it was found on another key chain. When the theft was discovered, he blamed his two heralds especially the one named Francis Shackleton (brother of the famed Arctic explorer) who had a rather notoriously bad reputation. Vicars lost his job, the jewels were never recovered and most agreed it was probably Shackleton who likely broke apart the jewelry and sold the gems. Hmmm. Could that be my secret to write?

Ah, The Leprechauns

Nearing the end of the novel I am working on, I began to think about what I might start writing next. One of my options is a third Casey Stengel mystery. I have the title, Secrets Among The Shamrocks. I just don't have the secrets yet so while I was doing a little research I found some interesting things about leprechauns.

One source said they originated at the North Pole. Santa separated the green elves from the red elves because of intestinal gases emitting from the green elves. It was an obvious choice for the green elves to settle on the Emerald Isle. I had a feeling this was written tongue-in-cheek and pretty much discarded the idea.

Several sources referred to leprechauns as being a part of the fairy family. All of them agreeing that they were small and mysterious and very mischievous. Another common description is that they are cobblers and that is how they make so much money. Where you purchase shoes made by leprechauns was not evident however.

The legendary tales of the leprechauns date back to the eighth century where the name comes from a word, luchorpan, meaning small body. Other origins of the word leprechaun include leath bhrogan, shoemaker, and Lugh which is the name for the Euro-Celtic god for luck.

As luck would have it, if you can catch a leprechaun you can expect to be rewarded with a pot of his money to exact his release. Beware though, a leprechaun is very crafty and witty and to date has outwitted anyone who has even come close to capturing one of the sprightly creatures.

It is said that there are 236 leprechauns living in the caverns of Carlington Mountain. That one is going to take a little more research. Could that be the secret?

Someone is said to have found the remains of a leprechaun. Could that be a secret?

Another source reports that the leprechauns are actually guarding a treasure left by the Danes when they conquered Ireland. Ah, now that could be a great secret.

I love research. It's like a travel adventure.

The Bridge LIst

Lists are always interesting in travel articles. They usually list a number followed by most, biggest, scariest, highest, etc. I scroll through the list of whatever and see if I've been there, done that. This time the list was 10 Terrifying Bridges. I thought of two we'd visited over the years. One made the list, one didn't.



The one that made the list is a bridge in Northern Ireland. It's a rope bridge that gets you from the mainland to Carrickarede Island. While it's called a rope bridge, there is really a plank on the rope so you are not really walking on a rope. A hundred feet or so below you are jagged rocks and water. There is only room for a single file line and no more than eight people are allowed to cross at a time in one direction.


The other bridge, a swing bridge in New Zealand did not make the list. I can't imagine why. It was terrifying in its own right. The Butler Gorge Swing Bridge is 300 feet long and has an open mesh bottom. I think that made me more nervous than the bridge in Ireland. The NZ bridge was a lot longer as well and there was a lot of water rushing underneath us.

I'm no daredevil. Not related to any Wallendas. Crossing those bridges was a one time experience. I don't know that I'd repeat either one. Been there. Done it. Don't need to do it again.

Failte Ireland!

There is not an Irish gene in my body but Ireland has always been part of me. You see, I’m a St. Patrick’s Day baby! Yes, every year growing up Mom and I would try to think of some treat to take to school that wasn’t so green the kids wouldn’t eat it. When my co-travel addict, my husband, decided Ireland was the next place on the bucket list to visit, there was no argument from me.

We started in Dublin and traveled clockwise around the whole island ending back in Dublin. Along the way we feasted on Irish delicacies, visited ancient sites, roamed quaint streets, watched the ocean crash into huge stone cliffs, heard tales of giants and leprechauns, drank in the purpled fields of heather, and marveled at the numbers of sheep we met in the middle of the road. A month on the road stopping for a night or two in places like Waterford, Cobh, Kinsale, Killarney, Galway, Dingle, Potrush, Londonderry, and Belfast passed by quickly as we sampled Irish hospitality all along the way. It all sounds so romantic. And looking back now, it was.

We came home with over 1500 digital pictures. But the things that I value most from the trip are the impressions of people and places that will enrich my characters and settings in novels yet to come. For example, we had heard that in order to preserve the original Gaelic language, there were pockets in some communities where only Gaelic was spoken.  In one little town where we stopped for tea and scones, an elderly gentleman started past our outdoor table on his way in to the bakery. The gentleman, weathered and bent from years of perhaps shepherding or farming, tipped his hat to us and rattled off a greeting in Gaelic, none of which we understood. We smiled and nodded and he continued to speak to us never halting to see if we would answer. I have no idea what he said but it appeared to be friendly from the expression on his face. With a wink, he disappeared through the door leaving us to wonder what we had missed with no translation. Somewhere he will fit into a story, I’m sure.

Towns and cities were representative of their struggles of the past. The playfulness in the colors of Kinsale’s homes and businesses reflected the release of restrictions from British laws that required more “proper” decoration and were a stark contrast to the intense murals of Belfast that mark the period called the Troubles. So much history shapes the country and the people of the Emerald Island as it does all countries and peoples. Whether as a writer, one gets to travel the world or only their own community, there is a wealth of material on which to build characters and settings. The key is to observe, tuck the images in your mind, and look for what makes them so unique.

I also learned that the Irish are great storytellers. There is a story behind most everything you see in Ireland. The Giants Causeway in Northern Ireland is a prime example. The natural wonder was said to be made by two fighting giants, one from Scotland and one from Ireland. Through a very clever trick of the Irish giant’s wife, he won the battle without even fighting.

Thinking back to all those great Irish storytellers we heard along the way—well, maybe I do have a bit o’the Irish in me after all. 

For a look at our Ireland trip use the Ireland Posts Page. 

Irish Inventors

I often get travel-related emails from companies wanting me to advertise their services and I usually don't post them. I want to keep my blog from being full of advertising and certainly not post something I haven't had experience with. But I couldn't resist this clever graphic that came from goIreland.com showing Irish ingenuity. So for what it's worth, here's a little more of Ireland for you:


To view it a little better, click on the graphic or visit the GoIreland blog.

Irish Scones

This is a recipe that I picked up from our stay in Galway, Ireland, from the Petra House's hostess, Joan. Every morning of the several days we spent there we woke to the smell of these baking. The recipe was easy to make once I converted her measurements to American. They are delicious. In England, you might eat them with clotted cream but in Ireland we were told, "a slab of Irish butter is best." Enjoy!

3 3/4 c. self-rising flour
2 sticks of butter (1/2 lb.)
4 Tbl. sugar
4 oz. golden raisins or other dried fruit (I found raisins that were coated with cinamon that were very good)
1 cup of milk
2 eggs

Cut in (rub in) butter until flour is mealy
Add eggs and milk to form a soft dough
Knead on a floured board. Be careful not to overknead
Roll out 3/4 " thick
Cut with biscuit cutter.
Put on baking tray (parchment paper works well with this) and brush tops with milk. Sprinkle with a little sugar.
Bake at 400 degrees for 15-20 minutes.
Place on wire rack to cool a bit.

Many thanks to Joan for sharing. It's still better to wake up and smell her scones baking though. Fond memories.

Chosen One of the Best

The Irish Fireside Blog and Podcast has chosen their Best of 2011 and my travel series on Ireland made the list! It's a great site for those who love all things Irish. Check out their list of the best and indulge in all things "emerald."




Wow. What a great way to start the New Year!

Beef & Guinness Stew

While in Ireland, we had Beef and Guinness Stew several times for dinner. The recipes were a little varied. Some were very rich and hearty, gravy-based and served over potatoes, once with a filo dough topping, and other times the dish was more like a soup. When we visited the Guinness Storehouse in Dublin, we picked up a recipe card for the popular stew. You can find other recipes to use with Guinness at their website.

Beef and Guinness Stew

7 oz. (200ml) of Guinness Foreign Extra Stout
1 lb. stewing beef, cut in cubes
1 medium onion, diced
1 large carrot, diced (the carrots in Ireland were huge so I'd use two or three of ours)
1 large celery, diced
1 large parsnip, diced
1 quart beef stock
sprigs of fresh thyme and rosemary (to taste)

Brown the meat in large pan. Add vegetables and cook until tender. Pour in the Guinness and simmer to reduce by half. Add the beef stock and herbs and simmer for an hour to hour and a half. (You might want to thicken it a bit if you like more of a gravy than a soup.)

It is said that the stew is better made a day in advance and served over champ potato.

Champ Potato

2 pounds potatoes, peeled and halved
1 cup milk
1 bunch green onions, thinly sliced
1/2 teaspoon salt, or to taste
1/4 cup butter
1 ground black pepper to taste

Place potatoes into large pot, and fill with enough water to cover. Bring to a boil, and cook until tender, about 20 minutes.

Drain well. Return to very low heat and allow the potatoes to dry out for a few minutes. Meanwhile, heat the milk and green onions gently in a saucepan, until warm.
Mash the potatoes, salt and butter together until smooth. Stir in the milk and green onion until evenly mixed. Season with freshly ground black pepper.

The Irish also make a potato called colcannon which is the same only with a little cabbage added to the potatoes.

Wordless Wednesday

Slán go fóill, Ireland

Our last day of touring Ireland we left Belfast and traveled down the coast with the Irish Sea on our left as we headed for Dublin. This last little bit of roadway would bring us full circle around the Emerald Isle. We stopped in Newcastle for one last tea and scone and arrived in the last place on our itinerary my husband wanted to see, Bru na Boinne.

In Bru na Boinne, the area between the towns of Slane and Drogheda lie prehistoric passage tombs. There are about 40 mounds in the earth which are the oldest surviving traces of human activity in the area. The largest of the mounds is Newgrange which is surrounded by a kerb of 97 stones, the most impressive of which is the entrance stone that is covered in engravings.

Much to our chagrin, we found that the tour would take too long for us to do since we had arrived a little too late to catch the ride to the tomb and would have to wait until the next scheduled one. We explored a bit the visitor's center and added on another reason to return to Ireland.

Along our journey I picked up quite an eclectic collection of observations of Ireland and its people. Here are a few:

* Hubcaps are often tie-wrapped not because of theft but because they could pop off on the rugged roads.

* Side view mirrors are the most likely auto repair job because of the narrow stonewall lined roads. We managed to return the rental with both still intact.

* M roads are fastest and widest. N roads are wide enough for two cars and can be quite fast. R roads are a bit unpredictable in size and speed. L roads are usually one lane, sometimes with grass in the middle and even though the speed limit may say 80 kph keep it much lower.

* The Irish like their butter. As one woman put it "we use it by the slab."

* With lots of drizzly rain and sunshine, you are guaranteed to see rainbows--although we found no pots of gold.

* No matter how fast you travel on a road, no matter how narrow the road, the locals will pass you.

* Portions in the restaurants were always huge which begs the question, Why aren't more Irish people obese?

* Black pudding is a spicy breakfast sausage. If you have a squeamish stomach, don't ask why it's black.

* Count on dramatic sky-scapes to be ever changing.

* Pitch and Putt courses are not your regulation golf courses. It's a whole different game.

* A sign that shows a road narrowing is usually accompanied by the words, "Traffic Calming Device." Huh?

* Rest assured that if you hesitate whether in your car or on foot, someone will ask if you need help with directions.

* And if a gentleman should happen to come up to your table while you're having tea and start a conversation in Gaelic, just smile back at him, nod your head a bit, and keep quiet. He'll never know you didn't understand a word of it. Then again, you could be meeting up with a leprechaun and not know it.

With that, I say Slán go fóill, Ireland. Goodbye for now. I suspect we will return. You have totally enchanted us.

Belfast, The Black Taxi Tour

We stood in front of the Titanic Quarter where our tour had ended to wait on a Black Taxi that was about to pick us up for our scheduled Black Taxi Tour, a tour to take us through the area of Belfast that was most active during The Troubles. When the taxi arrived the astute members of our group realized. . .it wasn't black. It was gray. When we pointed that out, we got quite a barrage of language explaining that not all "black taxis" were black. We moved on.

The taxi driver/tour guide who looked like he might have lost a few battles in the street, or the bar, wanted to know where our car was since he would not be bringing us back to where he picked us up. He drove us the short distance to the lot where we'd parked, spoke a few moments with the guys as they determined where our B&B was, and then led the way to the B&B so the guys could leave the car there. Still not where he would drop us off but we could return more easily there.

That left my sister-in-law and me in the car with the driver. We just kept giving each other glances wondering what would come out of his mouth next. But without the men there, he was very polite.

Still feeling a bit uneasy about this whole thing, I relaxed a little as the guys joined us again and even had to laugh at the looks on the other three faces when our driver asked if we'd had any "crack" in Ireland. Actually the word is craic (pronounced crack) and means fun. They looked at me like I was crazy when I said, "Yeah!"

The tour consisted mainly of stopping to look at all the murals Belfast is so famous for. Depending upon which neighborhood you are in, Protestant or Catholic, Unionist or Nationalist, Republican or Loyalist, the murals change expressing that point of view. With all the labels associated with basically two groups of people, it got very confusing. Even after researching, it still is.

Since the Good Friday Agreement on April 10, 1998, things have quieted down. As in Londonderry our guide had emphasized that Troubles were over, our taxi driver repeated the same thing. It was hard to be convinced when each time he got in the back of the taxi to sit on the extra jump seat and give commentary, he kept looking around the area and over his shoulder. While I read that the Black Taxi drivers are both Catholic and Protestant, I'm guessing ours was maybe Catholic since when we appeared to be in the Catholic area he relaxed a bit.

The tone of the murals has changed somewhat. There are 17 walls in the city that separate the Catholic areas from the Protestant. On one such wall along Falls Road, the murals have been toned down a bit and are now more generally political and often have to do with international issues. In the Shankill Road area, there is a housing project that surrounds what look like practice fields for soccer perhaps. I shudder to think that there are lots of children playing on them because the mural that made the greatest impact on me was one our driver said was so very unusual in its perspective. The gunman's eyes in the picture, as well as his gun, seem to follow you no matter where you stand on the fields. The UFF under his picture stands for Ulster Freedom Fighters a part of the Ulster Defense Association.

The history of the Catholic vs. Protestant struggle is very confusing to me especially since it doesn't really seem to stem from religious beliefs so much as that your religious preference (or what you were born to) determines your political affiliation. With all the historical places we visited the best I could piece together to try to understand how it all began was that when Henry VIII was king in the 16th century, he broke with the Catholic church. Remember the eight wives? Rome was not pleased with him. He tried to force Ireland to become a Protestant country as well sending his emissaries to destroy monasteries and do away with anything Catholic.

Animosity developed. Then later, in the 17th century came a struggle for power between William of Orange and King James. William was Protestant and James, you got it, Catholic. This is the struggle that led to the gates of Londonderry being barred as King James tried to storm the Protestant city loyal to William and the slogan, "We will not surrender." Now all of this is a little too simple an explanation but it points out one thing--hate festers.

In more recent history, the rule of England (the UK) over Ireland led to the Protestant politics invoking severe sanctions against the Catholic contingency often sending Catholics to jail for minor reasons. Remember there was also that potato famine. In 1922, the majority of the Irish island seceded from English rule and formed the Republic. For some reason, Northern Ireland chose to remain a part of the UK. So you see, there are actually two different countries that have a common heritage.

Are you confused yet? I still am.

In a way, I wish we had not taken the Black Taxi Tour--oh, by the way, the taxi driver's language improved greatly when he realized we weren't users of certain words. The tour was depressing in that we could see that even with the peace agreement in effect, there are still walls that separate, still back yards completely screened for protection, still places where mistrust and hate appear to brew. It cast a shadow on our view of Belfast which had been so positive in the morning on our Titanic Walk.

The taxi driver left us off at the Crown Bar in the "neutral" area of Belfast, the area he claimed where everyone got along. The Crown Bar was beautiful inside and out. It is one of the oldest landmarks in Belfast. We looked around and then headed across the street for a coffee. We needed to sit and absorb all that we had seen.

We walked a bit around a very nice shopping area. Perhaps had we been able to stay an extra day, we would have enjoyed it even more but we called it a day and found a taxi to take us back to our B&B in a nice residential area of Belfast.

One more note and I will finish my philosophizing. Over the years, we have been to many places all over the world. Just a glance at the category listing of my posts will show you that. Lots and lots of history has been explored in each place and the struggles of the world all seem to stem from two things: the desire for power and greed. Enough said?

Belfast, The Titanic Connection

It was an early morning for us. The drive from Portrush to Belfast would only be a little over an hour, but we wanted to arrive in time for the tour we had booked online: Titanic Walking Tour. Southampton is always the port associated with the Titanic but the ship was built in Belfast, a fact that Northern Irelanders are beginning to capitalize on. Up until recently, they were a little nervous about calling attention to their building an "unsinkable" ship. Now they have realized what valuable innovation went into the building of the ship and they are taking pride in that.

We met our guide in front of the hotel, the Premier Inn, that was the starting point and immediately fell in love with her. She was absolutely a Titanic enthusiast--a Titanorak, as they say. She walked us along the street that led to the yards where the Titanic was built. On the way, she stopped to show pictures of what it looked like back then and talked of what the future holds for this area as they construct the Titanic Quarter, a waterfront community with business, residential, and commercial enterprises that will center around the Titanic theme and preserve the historic aspects of the area.

In the distance a silvery white building with an unusual shape stood out among all the other buildings. It was actually in the shape of a star if viewed from above, a white star. White Star Line was the name of the prominent British shipping company that commissioned the Titanic. Significantly, it is the same height as the Titanic was as it sat in that space being built.

A red brick building, the former Harland and Wolff Headquarters Building and Drawing Offices, was our first real stop on the tour. Our guide stood for a few minutes outside the iron gate and helped us to imagine what it might have looked like as the workers came through that gate every morning to their job building the world's largest ship--at the time.

The white star-shaped building loomed in the open space beyond the gate. It looked even bigger now that we were closer and if you squinted just a bit, you could almost imagine that it was the hulk of a ship, a very large ship. How awesome it must have been to see that grow each day and be a part of the construction process.

Inside, the building was showing it's age, but was still in great shape considering not much has been done to restore it yet. Beautiful stairways and unusual glassed in offices spoke of a time that was much more elegant than our sleek modern lines of today.

Goosebumps broke out on my arms as we entered the original drawing room where Thomas Andrews designed the Titanic, the Olympic, and the Britannic. After a brief explanation that painted a picture of past times in this room with the help of a photograph our guide held up, we were left to explore and soak up the history.

In the corner, was a display of clothing from the period. The Titanic was built between 1909 and 1911 when it was launched. And the fateful day was April 14, 1912 when it hit the iceberg and sank. Thomas Andrews, by the way, was lost that night as well.

We exited to the street again. The slipway where the Titanic was built and launched was inaccessible due to the construction going on with the Titanic Quarter. A little ways down the street however, we were able to look through a fence and see a bit of the HMS Caroline's bow peeking out from its construction cover. The Caroline, the last remaining WWI ship in existence, still commissioned by the Royal Navy, has been docked in Belfast for 86 years. It will be on display to the when renovations are finished.

At the pumphouse we grabbed a little something to eat. Here the guide collected tickets and money from those who had joined without booking online. In the dining area were several pictures and video displayed on the walls of ship building including the Titanic. After a half hour, our first guide handed us over to a second who walked our group to the dry dock where Titanic was sent after launch to be inspected.

Down the center of the dry dock are the blocks upon which Titanic rested. The guide held a photograph and pointed to a building nearby to try to give us perspective on the size of the Titanic. Eventually there will be a park area in the Titanic Quarter with grass and trees and in the shape of the deck of the Titanic. You will be able to walk from one end to the other as if strolling on the promenade deck. In comparison to today's huge cruise ships, the Titanic is actually small. The Oasis of the Seas is 1184 feet and 222,900 gross tons compared to Titanic's 883 feet and 46,000 gross tons. But for its day, it was the largest.

In the Pump-house, the working side, we were able to see the old pumps and view a video about how the pumps worked to pump water in and out of the dry dock so workers could repair or finish what needed to be done on the hulls of the ships they built there.

When we were finished, I was still in awe of the whole story. We have now been to every place the Titanic has a connection except for one port, Cherbourg, France, which we hope to cover on a trip in the near future (Southampton, Cobh) . We have even been over the spot where the Titanic lies on the bottom. I don't know what continues to draw me to the story of the great ship. Perhaps the little stories of all the people and how they came to be on board the ill-fated sailing. Whatever it is I guess I could be labeled a Titanorak--as long as it just means I'm totally interested in all things relating to the RMS Titanic.

Wordless Wednesday

A Giant of a Tale!

On our second day to explore the Antrim coast of Northern Ireland, we found ourselves in the land of legendary giants. The Giant's Causeway, a spectacular work of nature or giants if you would believe folklore, was fascinating. The rock formation is made from an estimated 40,000 basalt columns which were formed from a volcanic eruption over 60 million years ago.

The causeway was discovered in 1692 by the Bishop of Derry who immediately reported it to the tourist bureau in Dublin--just kidding--but it was reported to Dublin authorities who in turn contacted authorities in London and the theories and research began in an attempt to explain the phenomenon.

But who wants facts like lava flowing and filling in fissures and creating a layer of basalt and then sun and rain eroding them, more lava flowing, cooling slowly, more cracking, and on and on until you get all of these columns of mostly six-sided stones? Give me the legend. It's much more fun.

It is said that an Irish giant named Finn McCool lived along the coast and was insulted by a Scottish giant, Fingal, who lived across the channel. In anger, Finn lifted a huge chunk of earth and hurled it at Fingal. The earth fell into the sea. Fingal retaliated with a huge stone tossed in Finn's direction. He taunted Finn saying that Finn was lucky he wasn't a strong swimmer or he'd come over to the Irish shore and give Finn what for.

Finn was enraged and began throwing large clumps of earth into the channel to make a walkway for Fingal to come over and face him. It took him a week to complete the walkway but since he hadn't slept in a week, he was worried that he was too tired to face Fingal.

Now here's where it gets interesting. One account says he asked his wife what to do and she told him to disguise himself as a baby in a cot--which is what he did. When Fingal arrived, Finn's wife said her husband was out but showed Fingal her "baby" laying in the cradle. Fingal saw the size of the "baby" and wondered how big the father was. He high tailed it home tearing up the walkway as he went. The Giants Causeway is all that's left.

Now isn't that better than a lot of geological facts? Before we left, Bob and I were feeling a bit adventuresome. We climbed to the top of a group of rocks for a Kodak moment. After all, we were nearing the end of our Ireland trip and a turned ankle now wouldn't be disastrous.

Our final stop along the coast was at Carrick-A-Rede which means "the rock in the road." The road is the sea route for the Atlantic salmon on their journey west past Carrick Island. For over 350 years, fishermen have strung a rope bridge 90 feet above the sea to allow them to cross over to the best places to catch the migrating salmon. We were here not for the salmon but to cross the rope bridge.

I wasn't sure what to expect but I wasn't about to chicken out either. Talk about a group of grownup kids. . .It was a long walk and climb up and down to get to where the bridge is hung over the drop between the main shore and Carrick Island. An attendant sits in a shed at the top of the bridge and collects your ticket and instructs you that the bridge is one way only. If someone is coming toward you and on the bridge first they have the right of way. Oh, and no more than 8 on the bridge at a time.

Relief flowed over me when I saw that the rope bridge was really planking suspended by ropes and that I wasn't going to have to toe a rope like a circus performer. Actually it was easier to cross this rope bridge than the one in Disney World's Adventure Kingdom. It really didn't move much and no one was standing there jumping up and down to try to make you fall.

The island itself wasn't much more than a grassy covered rock. Probably a nice place to do some fishing from. Some of the shoreline was dramatic but we didn't spend a lot of time there. The adventure was in the bridge crossing.

On the way back, halfway across, I did aim the camera down for a view and snapped. I'm not sure I had my eyes opened looking down though. The last place you want to swoon from looking down 90 feet is in the middle of a rope bridge.

Beaches, Castles, and Irish Whiskey

We arrived in Portush, Northern Ireland, on a nice warm and sunny afternoon. I was amazed at being this far north and finding a beach town that apparently is booming during the summer months. Who knew it would be that warm this far north? We kept hearing about the Gulf Stream reaching up in this direction but didn't realize just how much it affected the climate and water temperature.

Lunch was in a cafe we found along the main street of town. Again, the waitress was fascinated with us being Americans and choosing to visit Northern Ireland. Her only warning was, "Be careful in Belfast." Derry was a pleasant enough experience. Wouldn't Belfast be too? A little later we met some folks enjoying the sun from a park bench. They, too, thanked us for coming to Northern Ireland and were hopeful more tourists would venture north now that things were quiet.

We wandered the town a bit on a wild goose chase trying to find the TI which was actually marked by a large fake lighthouse that we could see but didn't know that was the TI. We passed the amusement park now closed for the season and ended up at the shore near a park area. Bob and I decided to explore the hill and see what kind of a view we could get. At the top of the cliff was a sign that declared this to be Ramore Head--which means Big Ring Fort.

Another ring fort? If so, this one had little left of the stones that had once been the fort. The sign also told us that we could see the hills of Donegal to the west--check. And the islands of Scotland to the north--not so clear. The two of us soaked in the view and the sun for a few minutes and then headed back down.

Our little tour group of four decided to take it slower the next couple of days. We had been spending lots of time in the car and it felt good to be in the wider open spaces of outdoors and our roomy B&B. Good thing because the next afternoon it rained so much that we spent it indoors in front of a wide screen TV watching--football? Rugby actually. We found it amusing that the rain did not deter the golfers on the course across the street from us.

The morning had started out all right, a bit damp but doable. We trekked off to the Bushmills Distillery to learn how Irish whiskey is made. Just as they had at the Guinness Storehouse, the end of our tour included a tasting of whiskey. I asked for the mildest flavor, sipped it, choked, wiped tears from my eyes, and totally remembered why I didn't like whiskey of any kind.

A ways down the road was another castle on our list to visit--Dunluce. It was probably the largest of all the medieval castles we'd seen so far although it wasn't in as great a shape. Some of it dates back to the 16th century to the original owners, the MacQuillans. Notice that it is a Scottish name. This area of Northern Ireland is very close to Scotland. If you go to this site for the castle, you'll find a virtual tour (it's on a sunny day!) and if you click for the Panorama view, as it pans across the water, in the distance you can see what I believe are the islands of Scotland.

Much of what survives was built by the next owners in the 17th century, the MacDonnell clan. They loved to entertain and the improvements they made to the castle centered on that. There is a large guest house that you pass by before going across a small bridge that leads to the main quarters where guests were entertained and the family lived.

Since the castle sits right on the cliff's edge which is continually wearing away from the elements of wind and water, it has lost some of its mortar and stone. Legend has it that one night the kitchen with all of its servants fell into the ocean and that was why the countess of Antrim packed up and moved inland. Perhaps, but there is still a large fireplace-like space marked "oven" in what appears to be the castle's kitchen. One look at that and I am so much more appreciative of my microwave.