Wexford, County Wexford, Ireland
Today is the final full day in the Emerald Isle - or, as I try to be as detailed and specific as I can at all times, the Land of Lush yet Rocky Cow-and-Sheep-Riddled Hills. We're in a Public Library that stays open throughout lunch, a rare find here but one that serves us very well. I'd love to recap the entire three and a half weeks here, but I wouldn't be able to do it justice in the half hour or so that I have available at the moment. You'll just have to wait another few days until I can get a free two hour block to devote to glorifying this amazing place. For the moment, suffice it to say our time here has been gas, fab, and beyond ledge-bomb status. OK, that last reference was a trifle forced, but the song remains the same (what is this, ill-fitting allusion hour?). Allow this next story to open your eyes to the true beauty of Ireland.
Yesterday, Sean and I were doing some solid riding, for the wind was calm and the hills were gentle enough for this place. Although we were off to a late start due to a field repair of Sean’s rear rack attachment and had to take a prolonged lunch to contact some friends, we were on the verge of covering over 90 km, usually the sign of a successful day of riding. As soon as we passed through the final town we planned to overtake (New Ross, home of the original Irish famine ships and a number of formidable hills), we realized it was pushing half six, the time we have set as our camping cut off (i.e. when we have decided to camp, the time we have chosen to stop riding and begin our search for lodging due to failing light and falling temps). After climbing a mile long hill, we turned down the first side road we came to and found a nice house perched atop its own hill just off the road. Unsure whether the inhabitants of such a fine home would be sympathetic let alone enthusiastic about our camping on their property, we approached rather tentatively. I rang the doorbell, which rang with such a harsh buzzing tone that we grabbed our ears instinctively and awaited what we were nearly certain was going to be complete disappointment. Not only were the grounds very well kept, but it looked as though no one was home for the night. However, within seconds of the blaring bell, an older woman in her 60s appeared at the door, looking ever so kind and beseeching us to tell her what we needed. I stammered out something about how we were cycling around Ireland and were looking for a place to stay for the night, would she be alright with us pitching a tent on her property somewhere. At that moment, our futures hung in the balance, with safety and warmth (and total rest for the day) on one side of her hesitation and utter disappointment and complete rejection (and a despairing continuation of the hill we didn’t quite finish) on the other. But luck and maybe a little something else was on our side, and she led us to a pristine, well kept spot of grass where we were to erect Desert Storm. Here, the grass; there, the tap; and if you need anything else, like hot water for cooking, just let me know. These are the words that any traveller most likes to hear: if you need anything else. However, it sounds too good to be true, no? Of course we couldn’t get anything that we wanted, right? Surely, we wouldn’t be able to get hot water for our couscous; a warm kitchen table at which to dine; a heaping bowl of meringue, strawberries, and cream; a friendly couple ripe with conversation; and a delicious, hot breakfast in the morning. Shirley, you must be joking. Well, if you know me, you know I never joke, and besides, I haven’t gone by Shirley in five months!
Indeed, Patricia and Patty Quinn, as they are known, took us in and kept us warm and entertained, and in the morning they sent us (back down the hill, yes) to their hotel for a breakfast fit for a king (a starving king, no less; or, better, a starving, pregnant king -sort of like Arnold in Junior, I suppose). There was no expectation for any of this special treatment when we arrived, but when you travel with no expectations of any kind, you are often pleasantly surprised.
And if you worry that these people could be murderers or just bad people in general, just remember: you only die once. Take the chance, and you will reap the rewards tenfold.
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