Thus far I have discovered that hiking over mountains is hard, meeting new friends is easy, and Ireland is
magical and thus my journey continues. By now I have finished my adventure
along Kerry Way having covered over 80 miles of the 120 originally planned. I
have written about the difficulties of hiking across the “bog,” about the
people I have met along the way, and about the amazing beauty of this place.
Over the past week I have experienced an array of new and wonderful things as I met
characters from across the globe, hitchhiked, camped, and laughed my way across
County Kerry all the way back to where this particular journey began; in my new
favorite town in Ireland, Killarney.
Hitchhiking:
I found that I was not the only hiker
who eventually became overwhelmed by the tough and grueling trail known as
Kerry Way. Almost every person I met who was attempting to hike the “Way”
hitchhiked for a least a part of their journey. It made me feel pretty good
that I was not the only person to fall victim to the trail; with sore shoulders,
spent legs, knees that no longer wanted to work, and a lack of willingness to
put myself through another day scrambling over some mountaintop somewhere. I
don’t remember what day I left, as the hours and days seem to be running together
for me now, but at some point, I departed Carsiveen on foot heading for the edge
of town hopeful that I would be fortunate in my pursuit of a ride to
Caherdaniel. It was there I was going to camp for a few days and hike out along
the “Way” to the Strand (aka Beach) at Darrynane. Man, it was a tough crowd
that morning and I began to wonder if hitchhiking was a complete and utter waste
of time. However, I finally got a ride from an Irishman named Danny (go figure)
who was on his way to work in Port Magee. Danny was eating a sandwich as he
pulled over and he ushered me into the passenger seat with a randy smile, and I spent
the next ten minutes feeling the need to wipe off the dollop of mayonnaise that
rested on the left side of his face the entire time we spoke. Although he wasn't going far at least it was a start and as he dropped me off at the turn
to the port where he worked, he smiled, waved goodbye, and wished me a safe
journey. I can only assume that the mayonnaise has since been removed. At least
one can hope. That was the beginning of my hitchhiking experience that
continued with some fairly good results, well…for the most part. As I stood in
the road waiting for my next lucky break I was blessed with a spectacular view
and again a rare glimpse of Irish sunshine. Kay was the next person to pick me
up and after what I can only describe as a hair-raising lift around the cliffs
of County Kerry, delivered me unscathed, but weak in the knees, right down into
the center of town in Caherdaniel. I made my way along the roadside to the
campground where I stayed for two days until the midges drove me back to the confines
of a hostel (more on them later). So to get to my next destination I stood in
front of the campground with a sign that simply read “Sneem” and it wasn't long
before I was motioned over into a van by two Germans who happened to be heading
in my direction. Now I have spoken about going with one's gut on more than one
occasion…I really need to start listening to my own advice. My traveling
companions were heading into Killarney which would be my ultimate destination.
However, I really wanted to go to Sneem and Kenmare to hike part of the “Way”
and discover the beauty of those towns. So I forged ahead, got out at Sneem, and waved
goodbye to my travel companions, only to discover; that there was no hostel. Okay…forward
march. My thumb was already warmed up, so flexing it like a fighter about to do
battle, I forged ahead yet again, and off I eventually went with Ian, a lumberjack who waxed poetic about sustainability, my kinda guy. He dropped me off in
Kenmare where I was assured there would be ample accommodations. Ummm…yeah, no
go. Kenmare was beautiful but the one and only hostel was dinky and overpriced.
So being the hard-headed person that I am I briefly looked around town and then
decided to hitchhike, right then there, back to Killarney. In this I learned a
life lesson; when hitchhiking to a specific town it always helps to be on the
correct road. I stood there for about three hours trying to get out of that
god-forsaken town (my pet name for Kenmare). Finally, a nice woman who lived
there told me I would have more luck if I stood on the main road into
Killarney, not the scenic route that only the tourist took. Duh. She was kind
enough to give me a lift to the right road where within a matter of minutes I
was tucked into a small beat-up ole car with Michael and his daughter who were
seemingly headed in the correct direction. Well, once again trust your
instincts, people. Michael, I found out after the fact, wasn't actually going to
Killarney he was going to Cork. So I was somewhat shocked, to say the least when
he dropped me off at a T-junction in the middle of freakin’ nowhere Ireland, I
was like holy shit Batman you…are screwed. The sign indicated that I was 20
miles outside of Killarney and the day was drawing to a close. I just stood
there with my sign that read "Killarney" looking like what I can only assume was either pathetic or
terrified. Luckily, it took even less time than the last to get a ride, within
the first three cars turning for Killarney a nice family, who obviously saw the
look on my face, picked me up and took me all the way to the hostel. Whew,
hitchhiking was almost as crazy as hiking over a mountain alone and every bit as
challenging. I want to thank all the folks who made that part of my adventure
although often hair-raising, a safe and memorable experience. And to the
Germans who made it to Killarney hours before I did, next time…I’m stickin’
with you.
Ah, the great outdoors! Ya gotta
love it, especially in Ireland. Now if you thought hiking over a mountain all
alone was dangerous you obviously have never been camping with me. After
finding a magnificent camping spot with an incredible view I managed to, in just
a matter of an hour or so, bash my thumb with a rock (aka hammer), cut myself
with my pocket knife, and step barefoot on what amounts to Ireland’s version
of a stinging nettle. Geez, where is a nice safe precipice for me to almost
fall off? Now, I will have to say that the view was spectacular at both
campsites but for a couple of things. After my accident-filled evening, I
snuggled down into my “tent with a view” that I had pitched along a sandy cove and watched the sun fade ever so
slowly into the mountains. I awoke the next morning to the wind shaking my tent
quite vigorously and when I unzipped the door I immediately got to eat a hardy,
yet tasty, sand sandwich. I then proceeded to get a taste of that sandwich for
the next hour or so while I packed my things and headed to my next campsite just a few miles down the road. Later that day I was still eating, brushing,
picking, and rubbing sand out of every crack and crevasse of myself and my
stuff. But did I tell you about how amazing the views were?? Now, the next view
was even better. A beautiful spot along the open cliffs, but after the sun beat
down on me for the entire day and the wind howled through me and my tent
incessantly (I actually got a sunburn and/or windburn from those two days) I
decided it might be prudent to move my tent to somewhere more, let’s say…sheltered.
So I got situated in a nice little cove at the top of the campground with no
view mind you but at least I didn't need to hold on to a tree to stand up and I didn't have to weigh my tent down with boulders to keep it on the side of the
cliffs. Score one for the Gipper! Again, I climbed in and settled in for a nice
warm sleep. In the morning I awoke to a quiet and still morning. The wind had
died completely and as I crawled out of my tent to stretch I realized something
was amiss. Now I have been in Ireland for almost ten days but on that beautiful
and glorious morning, I met my first Midge. Oh, and his 50,000 cousins. Now if
you have never met a midge you really must indulge yourself in their loving and
welcoming embrace. Midges my friends are basically flying teeth, but not just
any teeth, flying piranha teeth. Not just any flying piranha teeth, but ravenous,
flying piranha teeth, and not just…well you get my drift. I have never dropped
a tent and packed my shit so fast in all my life. I limped my sorry self up out
of that place, thumb throbbing, hand bleeding, sore feet aching, being followed
hungrily by a family of midges and looking as if I hadn't slept in days. I was
surprised anyone stopped to give me a lift at all. But did I tell you how
spectacular the views were??? To be honest it was one of the best times I have
ever had in my life even despite the comedy of errors. Life is like that
sometimes; you have to learn to take the good with the bad and when things don’t
go as planned just put your head down, smile, laugh it off, and make the best
of it. Deep thoughts with Kristine, complete.
The Players: I just want to give a
shout-out to some of the people who have helped to make this journey so
incredible.
Karen and Steve; I met Karen and Steve my first morning on the “Way” and we spent the next two nights in the hostels together. We lost each other along the way but reconnected yesterday in Killarney. We had breakfast together one last time while we spoke fondly of our journey. It was nice to see them once again as we had started out together what seemed like so very long ago.
Brian; I met Brian at the “Sleepy Camel” on my third day out. He came into the hostel the day Steve and Karen left and I had decided to stay an extra day. Now Brian was a card. He was 75 years old and sewn together with leather and nails. We sat together that evening in the sitting room of the Sleepy Camel, where he drank Jameson and regaled me with stories of his past. As the Jameson in his bottle got smaller his tales got bigger, his somewhat prominent nose got redder and my laughter grew louder. I met and/or traveled with Brian for the next two days until we lost track of each other in Waterville. He caught up with me again in Killarney two days ago where we reminisced and said a final goodbye as he left on the bus yesterday morning for New Castle.
Glen and Molly: Now this had to
be one of my favorite evenings thus far. I met Glen and Molly in a little town
called Carsiveen. They were working at a Hostel called the “Sive” in exchange
for room and board. They were disenchanted with the expectations and confines
of life in the real world and decided to make and create their own path in
life and good for them. We spent the evening sitting by a fire that Glen had
built in the hearth of the sitting room, talking about the earth, about kids
these days, about expectations of society, and about dreams that were meant to
be chased. Loved those kids and I hope they follow their dreams to their fruition.
I didn't have the heart to tell them “Good luck with that…”
The folks at Neptune’s in Killarney:
All total I spent four nights at Neptune’s in Killarney. So I have to give
props to; Kinga, Juliet, Michael, and Peter, who was not only the nicest guy I have
ever met but the finest guy I have seen in Ireland thus far, (and BTW: thanks
for the chocolate Peter!) and the rest of the people that worked at Neptune’s. That hostel became like a second home to me. Love you guys.
Ian; I met Ian as I was walking through Caherdaniel and as he was sitting on a stone wall having just come off the trail and was, as was I, tired of hiking. I was doing a day hike at the time so I crossed the street to speak with him and find out what he was up to, if he was hiking the Way, and if so to see what I had missed on that particular section. He was trying to hitch a ride into Sneem as I would do several days later. We spoke for a few moments and eventually parted ways; I headed south into the park and he, hopeful to catch a ride north, to Sneem. When I arrived back at Neptune’s a few days later the first one to greet me was Ian who just happened to be sitting on the couch in the lobby when I arrived. It was great to see him and unknown to us at the time that would be the beginning of what my friend Ben would later refer to as “the perfect storm.”
The Killarney Crew; Sunday was
one of those days I will look back on for the rest of my life. I would later
refer to it thusly.
That day it was as if some giant hand was putting together a puzzle,
and as each member of the Crew came into play another piece of the puzzle was
put into place. It was Ian and Sam whom I met as I stepped back into Neptune’s
that evening, where Ian suggested that later we should go for a pint, Sam
agreed and the puzzle pieces began being placed. Over the next hour or so I met
Lauren and Kellie two girls from Missouri and who in my mind were the salt of
the earth; two more pieces of the puzzle in place. Then I met Ben. Ben was from
Australia; we made an instant connection and Ben became what I would have to
say was my best “mate” while I was in Killarney. Sarah from Texas with her innocent
smile was next to be placed and, last but not least, Hannah was added to the
mix, and with that, the universe made an audible “click.” The “Perfect Storm,”
as Ben would call it, had been created. Ben nicknamed me “mum,” as I was the
oldest of the Crew, the rest of the kids soon followed suit and together we
headed for the pub not knowing that night at the “Grand” in Killarney would be
one of a kind. A night that could never be duplicated, nor would any of us
want to.
Breakfast Club that morning was quite loud and a great deal of
fun but unfortunately, most had to leave that day. They filtered out one by one with
hugs and handshakes and wishes for safe travels. And although over the next day
or so Ben and I met new friends it wasn't quite the same. He and I slowly said
goodbye to them all until he and I were the last two remaining. Ben eventually
had to leave on the bus Tuesday morning. We gave each other a hug and a smile
and said goodbye knowing that the universe had pulled us all together.
The
puzzle had been but for one day, but the perfect storm would stay with each of
us forever.
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| Me and Ben |
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