A Week With Wheels!

 Our friend Kees from The Netherlands paid us a visit for a week. The metal rack on the back of our bikes being somewhat uncomfortable for passengers, we decided to rent wheels to enable us the travel far and wide as a threesome.

boB volunteered for the post of Trusty Chauffeur and his performance driving on the LEFT proved to be excellent. (Thankfully.)

It was not without its moments, however, and this sort of expression was common!

Melinda, of the Side-Kick Navigation Department, doubled as Roving Photographer.

Our first stop; Yeats' country- County Sligo, which is Northeast of County Mayo, where we have been living. (Although born in Dublin, W.B. Yeats spent many childhood year with his grandparents in this area of Western Ireland. The unique landscapes, as well as the history and lore of the region had a major influence on him, and his love for Sligo certainly shone through his work.)

Meanwhile, Kees flew into Dublin and bused to Sligo. We waited patiently at the station for his arrival while admiring the display of Irish pride and 1916 banners.

With Kees in tow, we headed a wee further west to our hostel in Strandhill, with enough time to catch a beautiful sunset......

...and an incredible trad music session at the Strandhill Pub.

Ah, Guinness!

And good friends!

The following morning we discovered we were only miles away from Carrowmore Megalithic Cemetery, the largest collection of megalithic tombs in Ireland!

We took a sunny stroll through these ancient monuments and pondered their unique history.

On the far hill, Knocknarea, in the photo above, the large stone cairn of Queen Maeve's (Meabh) tomb is visible. Queen Maeve is a colorful character in Irish mythology. Estimated to have been built around 3000 BCE, her tomb has never been excavated. It is one of the largest Neolithic passage tombs in Ireland- some 55 meters wide and 10 meters tall! 

There are 60 recorded smaller tombs at Carrowmore proper, of which 30 are visible.  

Amazing!

Later, we spent a few hours in Sligo town and visited the Dominican Friary ruins.

Built in the 13th century, this once beautiful structure sadly did not survive Cromwell's invasion. Below is a photo of its cloister. If you look closely at the inner archway, you can see the engraving know as the Lover's Knot, which is thought to symbolize the spiritual connection between humanity and the divine. Below the Lover's Knot, you can also see the remnants of a carved face.

Being in Yeat's country, it was recommended we visited the Model Museum's Niland Gallery, which houses many of Jack Yeat's paintings.  They also had an exhibit about 'A Broadside', a publication from the early 1900's that was illustrated by Jack Yeats and published by E.C. Yeats, both talented siblings of the famous poet W.B. Yeats. 

The beautiful and expressive illustrations coupled with thoughtful prose and poetry caught our eye and we enjoyed pondering these historic gems.   

And now a photo for all you nurses out there - the Irish Pub just for you! Barstools could be the perfect place to hang your hooks......

(boB here... Melinda told me that the "Foley" is a device that would allow a bar patron to dispose of used beer while consuming new beer at the same time, and said patron would never have to leave the safety and comfort of their bar stool. I don't know the details of how this time-saving device works, but it sounds like a pretty good deal to me!)

We wandered into a music shop where Kees and boB tried out the traditional Irish flutes. (Kees plays flute at home, and was able to make his flute sound pretty nice. boB wasn't.)

At the end of Quay Street we paid homage to the victims of famine at the Irish famine memorial.

Some 30,000 famished and impoverished Irish people left the Sligo area between the years 1847-1851 from this very port. It gave us goosebumps to stand at this memorial and imagine just how terrible those times must have been.

The plaque near this wraithly scuplture shown the following quote:

'The dead are not far from us...they cling in some strange way to what is most still and deep within us.' -WB Yeats

Haunting.

Further down the road on our way to Donegal we came to Drumcliff, at the base of Benbulbin mountain, and paid our respects to The Poet himself.

Although Yeats lived in France at the time of his death, he requested that his remains be brought here to lie beneath Benbulbin. (There is some controversy about whether his remains are actually here or not. It is mysterious indeed.)

And here, getting the perfect picture of the Celtic Highcross..... The Red Shirt Photographer brigade!

Anyone for a Guinness?

We found our way to a quirky and cozy pub in Donegal town.

We can't recommend this pub highly enough - incredibly friendly staff, welcoming locals, and a boot through the ceiling. What's not to like about that?

From Donegal town we headed west. We passed by a charming church and round tower in village of Bruckless.

As we passed through Killybeggs, Ireland's busiest fishing port, we caught a deeply fishy scent and thought of the generations of fisherman making their living on the Wild Atlantic. The song, Boys of Killybeggs came to mind:

'There are wild and rocky hills on the coast of Donegal
And the fishermen are hearty, brave and free
and the big atlantic swell
is a thing they know right well
as they fight to make their living from the sea

 With a pleasant rolling sea and the herring running free
and our ships all gliding gently through the foam
when the boats are loaded down
there'll be singing in the town
when the boys of Killybegs come rollin home

Now you're headed out to sea and the wind is blowing free
and you cast your nets as rain begins to fall
and the clouds are riding high and the wind will soon blow by
and today you'll maybe get your bumper haul

Well the weather's very rough and the work gets plenty tough
and the ropes will raise the welts upon your hands
but you'll never leave the sea
for whoever you may be
when it's in your blood it's hard to live on land

Now there's purple on the hills and there's green down by the shore
and the sun has cast it's gold upon the sea
and there's silver down below where the herring fishes go
if we catch them there'll be gold for you and me'

We wondered what the world was coming to when we later saw this somewhat odd combination:

Curious, eh?

We continued west to the Slieve League, the highest sea cliffs in Ireland, and among the largest in Europe. The weather on our hike up to the cliffs started off cloudy....

But as we got closer, the clouds cleared and we were treated to some spectacular scenery!

Rising to a height of 601 meters (nearly 2000 feet!), these sea cliffs are stunning.

Melinda acquired her very own Irish Flat Cap, and was thereby inducted into the League Of Excellent Headwear. Welcome! (Co. Donegal is known for its quality tweed and knitwear- and naturally we wanted to support the local industry!)

Peek-a-boo!

We landed later at Glencolumcille, a Gaeltacht (Gaelic-speaking) village north of Slieve Leage. We visited the folk village museum and learned about the history of the area from 1700-present. And we admired the Early Christian standing stone near the church:

The stone is thought to date to the 700's, and is visited by many pilgrims following the 'Turas' or journey though sacred sites in the area. Glencolmcille's name is derived from 'Colmcille', Gaelic for 'St Columba', the 6th century Irish missionary who was born in Donegal. (You may remember hearing about him in our post about Iona.) According to local legend, St. Columba had a religious center here in this Glen (before he left for Scotland). 

It is fascinating to see how history is layered upon itself. In this wee spot a beautiful historic church is near an even more ancient standing stone, the sacredness of the locality having been expressed differently by peoples through the ages. 

Dodging sheep on the "highway" in County Donegal:

We took the rental car up and down some kinda sketchy roads... when we saw this sign we knew we were in for some fun! 

"..... usses or ...... s beyond..... point"?

No worries - it's a rental!!

Entering a small village we saw this unlikely combination: something about these two signs together just doesn't seem to go....

I mean, really, 80km is what they're asking people to slow down to for the sake of the children? 

We are still trying to figure this one out!

Apparently there are cars bouncing off peoples' heads to the right. Or...?

We don't read Irish Gaelic, but thankfully the shape of the sign conveys the message that we need to know!

And here we learned that cars fall through holes on the side of the road.

boB's masterful driving kept us on the straight and narrow, although it was very seldom straight. 

And in Ireland when they indicate a steep incline they mean STEEP!

Like, 45 degrees steep!

With all this winding back and forth, and up and down, some 10 kilometers west of Ardara we found this beautiful waterfall:

And a beautifully carved tree stump in front of it. No telling when it was carved, or how many seasons it's seen.

Kees was curious to try Fish and Chips, Irish Style. So when we looped back through Donegal town, we hit up the chippy in Donegal that had been recommended by the Forge pub locals the night before. It was a famous chippy known for high quality and tasty F&C.

We've been chasing the perfect F&C for months now and in our expert opinion, their chips were excellent - some of the best we've had in Ireland - and their fish was quite good. It ranks highly and we recommend a stop when you are in Donegal town!

After two days of exploring Donegal and Sligo, we had only scratched the surface of the natural beauty and cultural richness these counties have to offer. County Mayo was calling however, and we headed home to An Sionnach Rua.  

We treated Kees to an afternoon in the bog, and he quite liked it! Again, the locals think we're mad and a bit daft for finding the bog work so fun and novel!

We took many a day trip from our base camp at An Sionnach Rua to see some of the local Mayo sites that we had been curious about but hadn't been able to visit yet by bicycle...

Here's the Round Tower at Killala, believed to have been built between 1170-1238 AD:

The limestone tower rises majestically some 25 meters above the town. The tower was hit by lightening, twice, and you can still witness the protuberance midway up its side on the left where repair work had to be done.

The entrance to the round tower is 3 meters up from its base- mostly likely a measure of security. 

Later, at the Ceide Fields to the northwest of Killala, we viewed the Stone Age field systems (collapsed agricultural field walls) that were found beneath the bog. These walls are estimated to be nearly 6000 years old and were thought to have been built by a peaceful farming community.

Bogs grow at a rate of about one meter every 1000 years, so about 1mm per year. Some of the stone walls were found beneath 4 or 5 meters of turf, so the age of the wall is easily determined.

A thoughtful Kees walking towards the visitor center at Ceide fields:

And beautiful scenery!

Above you can see that the bogs around the site are actively used today.

We also learned about some very interesting bog plants:

This is a patch of sundew, a carnivorous plant, and it eats MIDGES. We were so thrilled to hear that there are plants that eat midges that we wanted to head straight for a yard and garden centre and pick up a few in pots to take with us next time we go on bike tour! But then we learned that each plant eats, on average, five midges per month. Maybe not worthwhile to carry potted plants on a bike tour, but on the other hand every little bit helps, right?

We continued on through Belmullet (Gerry's hometown), and came to a modern interpretation of a stone circle- made into spiral. The peaks in the distance are Achill Island.  

At Blacksod Point, we came across a touching outdoor exhibit about assisted immigration from the area in the 1883-1884, after the last great Irish Famine.  A Quaker, Tuke, from York donated great sums of money to assist famished communities of west Ireland who wished to emmigrate to North America. There were plaques, commemorating each of the 15 specific steam ship crossings, complete with the names of all of the ships passengers. Some 3,300 left NW Mayo during this time. 

It was chilling the think of the extent of emigration that occurred from that very place alone. All over the west of Ireland ships left with people bound for the Promised Land, and the cultural effects are still felt today.

We visited Kilkelly later in the week, which is the focal point of a very poignant and moving song about Irish emigration. Written by two Americans, it is based on the letters written between their great grandfather and great-great grandfather.

We've made it a feature of our adventure to visit places that are named in songs, and then to sing the song while present. With Melinda playing chords and guiding us through the song, Kees and boB sang accompaniment.

'Kilkelly, Ireland, 18 and 60, my dear and loving son John
Your good friend the schoolmaster Pat McNamara's so good
As to write these words down.
Your brothers have all gone to find work in England,
The house is so empty and sad
The crop of potatoes is sorely infected,
A third to a half of them bad.
And your sister Brigid and Patrick O'Donnell
Are going to be married in June.
Your mother says not to work on the railroad
And be sure to come on home soon.

Kilkelly, Ireland, 18 and 70, dear and loving son John
Hello to your Mrs and to your 4 children,
May they grow healthy and strong.
Michael has got in a wee bit of trouble,
I guess that he never will learn.
Because of the dampness there's no turf to speak of
And now we have nothing to burn.
And Brigid is happy, you named a child for her
And now she's got six of her own.
You say you found work, but you don't say
What kind or when you will be coming home.

Kilkelly, Ireland, 18 and 80, dear Michael and John, my sons
I'm sorry to give you the very sad news
That your dear old mother has gone.
We buried her down at the church in Kilkelly,
Your brothers and Brigid were there.
You don't have to worry, she died very quickly,
Remember her in your prayers.
And it's so good to hear that Michael's returning,
With money he's sure to buy land
For the crop has been poor and the people
Are selling at any price that they can.

Kilkelly, Ireland, 18 and 90, my dear and loving son John
I guess that I must be close on to eighty,
It's thirty years since you're gone.
Because of all of the money you send me,
I'm still living out on my own.
Michael has built himself a fine house
And Brigid's daughters have grown.
Thank you for sending your family picture,
They're lovely young women and men.
You say that you might even come for a visit,
What joy to see you again.

Kilkelly, Ireland, 18 and 92, my dear brother John
I'm sorry that I didn't write sooner to tell you that father passed on.
He was living with Brigid, she says he was cheerful
And healthy right down to the end.
Ah, you should have seen him play with
The grandchildren of Pat McNamara, your friend.
And we buried him alongside of mother,
Down at the Kilkelly churchyard.
He was a strong and a feisty old man,
Considering his life was so hard.
And it's funny the way he kept talking about you,
He called for you in the end.
Oh, why don't you think about coming to visit,
We'd all love to see you again.'

-Peter Jones

You can view the actual letters upon which the song is based here:

http://sherlockshome.ie/kilkelly-ireland-sung-by-its-composer-peter-jones/

And here's one of the all-time greatest ideas EVER. A hardware store in the front and a pub in the back!

(boB here: get me one of those nifty "Foley" things that we pointed out earlier, and I'd be set for life in a place like this. I'm going to google just what a "Foley" is and where I can get one...maybe they're sold at hardware stores like this one?)

We visited the 19th century Belleek Castle, just north of Ballina, and received a excellent and informative private tour from Carol, an extraordinary historic buff who happens to be Gerry's mother-in-law.

The gorgeous limestone castle is part hotel-part museum and holds an eclectic collection of treasures from large fossils to the very bed of the 16th century Irish pirate Queen Grace O'Malley.

The dining room above is fitted out to look like a galley on a ship, and it's made using many pieces that came from actual ships! 

One of the neatest rooms of the entire collection is the Armory, which contains loads of antique armor and weaponry from all over the world. This magnificent knight is outfitted for a joust:

And his horse is well armored, as well.

Carol taught us about the amour and allowed us to try our hand at a few of the pieces. Here's Kees with a two-handed sword... don't get in his way on the battle field!

This sword was so monstrously heavy that none of us can really image being able to swing it and direct it to hit someone, especially on a crowded and chaotic battle field. But apparently that's how they were used, and to devastating effect.

This is a Spanish helmet:

Afterwards, as we walked through woods near the castle, we came across the cutest squirrel!

On a visit to the ancient Errew Abbey on Loch Conn, the bounciest wee puppy jumped in front of our car at the parking area. No one else was around except for the wee puppy guide. She was hyper as could be, and walked us all the way back to the abbey through about a mile of farm fields and forest.

We wish we had had a dog bone to leave as a tip! She was a good guide!

These amazing historic structures speak to the deep influence of Christianity on the area during the late Middle Ages.

Kees, boB, and Puppy.

Only in Ireland:

Maybe we could start an inflatable pub business when we get back stateside!

We ended the week on wheels with Kees in Galway. Sadly, Melinda developed a complication from the tooth-work she had done in February, so we had to go to Galway for a day of dental fun, Irish style!

(That's an unfortunate after-effect of the bike crash in January, when we were in Glasgow. Touch wood that the work done in Galway will be sufficient to get her home before addtional dental work will again be necessary.)

We were sad to have to visit the dentist, and sad to part ways with Kees. We had an excellent visit and were grateful for the opportunity to share the adventure together!

Kees took the bus to Dublin from Galway while boB and Melinda meandered through the Connemara on way back to An Sionnnach Rua. 

Along the way we found a faerie tree:

And stopped to view the beautiful Kylemore Abbey:

And azaleas in bloom:

Stayed tuned- we hope to cycle through the Connemara later this month on our way south to Limerick!

We turned in the car after a week of left-side driving adventure. Driving on the left is fun, but we're so unaccustomed to being in a car that it was quite wearying. We were glad to be back on the bikes again, and getting in shape for our tour through the Connemarra. 

Irish Pub Wisdom

While we were cleaning out the shed we found these two old pub posters. They're kind of cheesy, but they have a good message...

In good hands, indeed- the barman at a country pub rarely has to ask what his regulars want to drink- it would be like asking for their names!

The Pub is the Public House. In years past it was the place where everyone from the village would gather to socialize around the peat fire, have a pint and some food, and catch up on the latest goings-on. Some pubs also have simple short-term accommodation for travelers. Nowadays, pubs in cities may be primarily for drinking, but wee country pubs like An Sionnach Rua are still gathering places. The country pubs are slowly fading away as people grow older, move away, or have less time and cash for going out, but hopefully they'll never go away altogether. 

Here's four of our pub regulars:

From the left: Padraig (who sings brilliantly and tells many a joke), Donnell (the witty butcher), Paraic Mac (the hardworking and ingenious turf and coal man), and Owen (who's kind of quiet and very kind). If any of these fellows are in the pub there's never a shortage of craic! We've collected much wisdom from these fellows, and we'll share some of it below. 

Here's a fun pub riddle from Paraic Mac: Turf In A Shovel. Start with four whole matches and one half match. Lay them out as shown so that you have a small piece of turf in a shovel. 

Now you have to move the piece of turf to the outside of the shovel by moving ONLY two of the whole match sticks, and you cannot touch the piece of turf. Good luck! (Solution found below.)

Here's another riddle from Paraic Mac: Three fellows walk into a hotel, needing a bed for the night. The man at the desk charges them £10 apiece. They're happy to pay it, and they go up to their room. Then the manager comes to the man at the desk and says "Aye, that's a bit much. Give them back a fiver."

The desk man takes five £1 coins from the till and heads up the stairs. On the way, he realizes he needs to split the fiver three ways so he pockets £2 and when he gets to the room he hands each of the fellows £1. So each man paid £9 for their bed, and the desk man kept £2.

Well then ... 3 x £9 = £27 for the rooms, plus £2 for the desk man .... That adds up to £29! What happened to the other £1?? 

If you can sort out where that last £1 please let us know so we can tell Paraic Mac. It's been eating at him for years!

According to Padraig:

There are two things you cannot say in Ireland:

1. My dog will not bite. (How do you know what the dog will or won't do?)

2. My donkey will not kick. (How can you predict a donkey's behavior?)

And there are two things you cannot do in Ireland:

1. You cannot salt another man's dinner. (How can you how much salt he wants on his food?)

2. You cannot add water to another man's whiskey. (How can you know how much water to add to his whiskey?)

And there are two things you never see in Ireland:

1. A blind tinker. (Tinkers are traveling handy-men, and they always had a hot fire for doing their metal work. The smoke from the fire was supposedly good for the eyes, and prevented eye disease.)

2. A bare donkey. (Donkeys always have the cross on their backs; you'll never see one without.)

Irish saying from Mary, one of the colorful pub characters: "Never let it be said your mother raised a jibber." (A "jibber" is someone who's a bit flighty, unreliable, and unpredictable.)

Irishism... "Aye, she's a big yoke!"

A "yoke" is an all purpose word for a thing, and it can be just about any thing. Big yokes, small yokes, ugly yokes, fancy yokes, old yokes, clever yokes ... There are as many yokes as there are things in the world!

Wisdom from the man behind the bar who's pouring the pints:

1. "The only thing better than a Guinness is another Guinness." (We heartily agree!)

2. "A bird never flew on one wing." (Meaning you can't have just one pint - you need another to balance the first one.)

Here's another good joke from Paraic Mac...
Every month an old woman went to the post office to collect her pension check, and then she went to the bank to deposit £150 into her savings. Month after month she did this, and after a time the bank manager got curious about how she could save so much of her pension check and still eat. The check was only about £180 anyway, so how could she live on £30 a month?

One day he asked her how she did it, and she admitted that she did a little bit of gambling on the side. Well, quite some gambler she must be to be able to make a good living on it! He asked her a bit more and this is what she said: "I always bet on a sure thing so that I never lose."

Still curious, he asked her for more ... how could she always be sure that she was going to win?

"Tell, you what," she said, "I'll make a wager with you. And in case you're nervous to bet with me I'll make sure that you're sure to win."

Now he was more intrigued than ever - if he won then she'd lose, but she said she always bet on a sure thing! "You're on!" he said.

"Okay, then," she said. "I'll bet you £50 that in one week one of your bollocks will be square and the other one round."

"Ha!" Cried the bank manager. "You have yourself a wager!" and they shook hands to agree.

A couple days later she came to the bank to deposit her savings, and there was the bank manager. He winked at her, knowing full well the shape of his bollocks hadn't changed, and feeling confident that he wasn't going to lose this bet.

On the appointed day she came to the bank, with her solicitor in tow, and asked the desk clerk to see the bank manager. The manager appeared and led the old woman and her solicitor confidently to his office and he shut the door.

"Alright, then," said the old woman, not wasting a moment. "Drop your trousers."

The bank manager did so, and she confidently reached in where few dare venture. The bank manager smiled ... because he knew that he didn't lose the bet.

"And you, Miss, owe me my £50! You can plainly see, er... feel, that neither of my bollocks are in any way resembling the shape of a square!" So she pulled a £50 note from her purse and handed it to the bank manager with a smile.

"But I don't understand," he said, still standing with his trousers around his ankles. "You assured me that you always bet on a sure thing, and yet you just lost your £50 to me."

"Aye, indeed," said the old woman. "But last week I bet my solicitor £450 that within a week's time I'd have the bank manager's bollocks in my hands!"

And finally, here's the solution to Turf In A Shovel:

Can you see which two matchsticks were moved?

This is brilliant!

Ten to one is pretty good odds, don't you think? I'll drink to that!

To the An Sionnach Rua

On Sunday May 15th we hopped on the train in Dublin and headed west. We changed trains a couple of times, and on the final train into Ballina we found a small hole in the curtain to the engineer's compartment. We could peek through the hole and see where we were going!

How often do you ever get to look out the front of a train??

The beautiful sunny weather continued! We were amazed by the clear blue skies and blessed our lucky fortune. Let's hope it continues, eh?

Once we arrived in Ballina we picked some groceries and headed south to Bunnifinglas. Remember to bike on the left side of the road!!

And we saw peat! Loads and loads of peat! It was all laid out in neat rows that were obviously machine made, but where did it come from? We'll surely find out...

After only about seven miles we made our destination:

The An Sionnach Rua (Gaelic for The Red Fox)!

It's a wee pub and accommodation, and is home until about the end of June! 

The welcoming committee:

And here's Gerry...

Pouring us our welcoming pints of Guinness! Gerry is very friendly, and always quick with a smile and laugh. He's had the pub for about eleven years, and pretty much runs it by himself most of the time. 

And here's our second round - Smithwicks:

Except Melinda was too fast for the camera!!

Some nights in the pub are busier than others, and Sunday night is Family Night. We noticed the wide-eyed lad, and laughed as his eyes got wider when Gerry brought him over a Coke! The kid was agog with anticipation, and gleefully grabbed his beverage and shuffled it off to the table with his folks. 

And, of course, there's a peat fire in the fireplace!

We've come to really enjoy the scent of a peat fire. While biking through Scotland we smelled a lot of peat smoke, as people there also use dried peat for heating their homes. When we smelled it here in Ireland we instantly felt cozy, comfortable and at home. It has an earthy-smoky scent, and if you haven't ever experienced it we highly recommend it. You can get a good idea of how it smells if you take a sniff of Laophraoig Scottish whisky. It's a very smoky whisky, and they smoke it with peat!

Well, one of the reasons that we came to this wee corner of Ireland is to do another "help exchange," where we trade our volunteer efforts for accommodation. We are helping Gerry with many tasks- mainly cleaning/sorting out the overly cluttered shed, tidying up the pub, and turning and stacking turf.  

On our very first day here he took us to the bog!

Here are the long rows of peat - in Ireland they call it turf - laid out in the sun to dry. Working the turf isn't terribly hard, but it is time consuming. 

Here's the process: 

- An excavator digs out the turf from the bog, digging down 15 or 20 feet, however far down the excavator can reach. The turf is dumped in a "hopper" trailer pulled by a tractor. 

- The tractor driver pulls the hopper to the prescribed location (individuals own or rent a patch of bog). The driver opens the hopper and drives along while the turf is extruded out the back of the hopper through ten chutes. 

- Someone walks along and scores the turf laterally into log-lengths. As it dries the score lines crack and the turf pieces - now called sods - separate. 

- After a week or two of drying, the sods are rolled over on their sides and allowed to dry another week or so. Turning is best done with a rake...

- The next step is to "make up" the sods into stacks of fourteen pieces. Ten pieces are stacked cross-wise five high, and four more leaned into the stack. This method allows for very good airflow, and if the weather is good the sods are left for six or seven weeks to dry and season. The making-up is the hardest part of the process - it requires a lot of bending down!

- After the sods are fully dried they're loaded on a trailer and delivered. A typical household will burn about six hopper-loads of turf.

 It takes quite a few trips to the bog to manage ones turf. Bob figures it takes about the same amount of time to manage six hoppers of turf as it did for him to cut 2-1/2 cords of firewood every winter. Cutting firewood was much more strenuous, but the heat output is a bit better than turf. 

Here's Melinda arriving at the bog for a few hours of therapeutic turf-turning...

Notice she's wearing wellies! It's about a three mile bike to the local bog, and for the sake of preventing bog-foot she rides in wellies! 

Since we arrived we've been to the bog quite a few times. Gerry has a bog, and we turned and made up his six hoppers of turf. Another fellow, called Podraic Mac, makes a living selling turf and we helped him to work a few of his eighty-five hoppers! Sean is another regular at the pub, and we helped him on his bogs, too. It's customary for folks to help others on their bogs - one day we were eight-strong making up turf on Mac's bog, and it goes fast with so many hands. The making up is the hard part, because of all the bending over, but it's good work and it's great to be outside in the good weather, and if there are others out there if feels like a community. 

Typically when someone comes into the pub someone will ask "Have you been to the bog today?" And that starts a conversation about the weather, how well the turf is drying, which parts of the bog are drying better than others, and so on. A while later another regular comes through the door, and they're greeted with "Have you been to the bog today?" and the cycle starts again. It's heart-warming to see such a community, and the pub is sort of the centre of it. 

We noticed that if we help someone in the bog they express their appreciation in the pub. So... We help Mac and Mac treats us to a pint. We help Sean and Sean treats us to a pint. Pretty good system!

Turns out that this year the weather has been very good for the turf, and people are "bringing home the turf" in June - whereas in a more normal year the turf isn't brought in until August, September, or even October! 

We love the bog! Folks think we're a bit daft for that... :-)

We'll fill you on more of our adventures in Ireland in the next few blog pages.