The interior
18 June 2015 • Carrick on Shannon
At this point in our journey, three quarters of the way round the coast of this interesting island, we decided on a change of strategy. We would now venture into the interior, ie places not on the coast, as we felt rather all coasted out. We knew the Irish Sea coast a little, having sailed down it, and memories of Ardglass, Howth and Arklow are fresh in the memory.
So we set off for Athlone, by way of Kilkenny, where there is a campsite in our book, which looks interesting. The journey began with a trip down to Our Lady's Island, where Ju was gratified to see a breeding colony of common terns, a rare sight in Loch Craignish this long while. Then a meandering route along fairly minor roads in Wexford, past JFK's commemorative arboretum. Apparently his great grandfather was from around these parts. Into county Kilkenny, where we continued to remark on the intense greenness of Ireland, the proliferation of trees and hedges, even the characteristic telegraph poles so shrouded in ivy that it looks as though tall branchless trees are carrying the wires! We continue to marvel at the well-to-do nature of the houses in the rural areas, some more like ranch houses, in immaculate gardens with smiling lions on the gateposts, sometimes two or three cars parked outside. Of the recent recession in building we only saw one example, this very morning, of a crescent of town houses with bricked up windows against vandalism and looting, presumably. While probably a lot of people are still in the negative equity trap, the signs are that prosperity is on its way back.
Kilkenny was once the capital of Ireland, our guide book tells us, so there you are.
We stayed at the Tree Grove site on the outskirts of the town. In the afternoon we ventured into the town along the banks of the river, in a long thin park, ending up at the castle, an imposing building with high walls. We took Jack for a stroll along the busy streets, and we were a bit disappointed that most of the shops we passed on what could have been a really nice atmospheric wee town, were selling tourist tat, with no really interesting shops at all. We walked back up to the campsite and settled in for the evening.
The next day we set off for a small campsite we discovered on the web, which wasn't in any of our campsite lists. The attraction was that it was in a small village right beside a pub, so we reckoned we could get a pub meal, perhaps.
We arrived to find a tiny campsite, with only one other sign of life than ourselves, a young woman with two children in a large motorhome. We tracked down the owner to the bungalow next door, and were assured that we could stay, that there was a second electrical outlet, and that all was well.
So we plugged in and set up camp. Ju was pooped so I volunteered to take Jack for a long and hopefully tiring walk, returning two hours later, at which point Ju opted to have a shower. She returned sooner than expected, muttering darkly that there was no water in the shower, of whatever temperature. I went in search of the owner, who then explained that you had to activate the shower by inserting a strangely shaped token into the machine in the washup area on the other side of the building, first. How a naked shower candidate was to do this without causing public offence was not explained. But that wasn't all. The aforementioned token was in very short supply, she only had one, she would give it to me. They make them in England, she muttered to me as she handed it over. I'll come with you, and show you how it works, she said. Are you ready to shower, she asked. I explained it was for Ju, so there was a pause while I summoned Ju, who by this point was thoroughly resigned to not having a shower after all, and was well into her book.
There was much calling and loss of temper as I stood with the elderly owner, token poised in the slot on the meter, trying to check if Ju was ready for the water to start yet. She couldn't hear me, as the shower door was shut and the shower was on the other side of the building. Eventually I heard a yes, and all systems were go. Splashing ensued, yet the owner wasn't finished yet. She wanted feedback on how the shower was performing. More shouting, now all the louder as it had to overcome splashing water and shower curtain noise.
Finally satisfied, she left, but not before a really brilliant conversation. I had asked her about the pub next door. No it was closed, she said, but had I been down to the village? I wasn't sure so said no. Ah well, she said, there's a lovely coffee shop down there, but it's not open today.
So it was smoked sausage pasta surprise for dinner again! Ah well.
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