Advertisement
Published: April 18th 2006
Glengarriff
Riding into this small gateway town to the Beara Peninsula I felt like I was in a Northwest logging town. Maybe it was the wide torn up street. Maybe it was the larger then life storefronts. Perhaps it was the American style roadhouse I stayed in, complete with a herd of Harleys in the parking lot. It was definitely the country music played to a drum machine in the pub. Turns out that one man bands playing poor renditions of American favorites with the assistance of a synthesiser or drum machine are quite popular here. Just goes to show that even the Irish can make bad music. There was another tourist in the pub that I could not look at, she was trying so hard not to laugh that it would set me off every time I looked at her.
I took a rest day in Glengarriff and took a walk in the Glengariff Nature Preserve. Big oak trees covered in moss, slow moving-clear water stream, and ferns: Did I need to come to the Ireland to see the best of the Northwest? I fought the temptation to protect a highway project (Audubon inside joke). Small patches of
dark clouds moved across the landscape brining rain. As they passed they covered the foliage with glitter and revealed the sun with a dramatic entrance. As the sun lit up the trees from behind the clouds created a dark backdrop. You can only imagine what I did - took a nap. NO, silly, I took four rolls of pictures.
Glengarriff to Dzogchen Beara retreat center and Hostel - 30 miles.
What do you get if you mix the alps with the arid Southwest on a peninsula in Ireland? A magical place I have never experienced before. You also get narrow windy roads at a 60 degree angle (bike pushed from behind). I took a side trip on the hillside that was physically tough, but was I glad I did. Mountain huts, mountain sheep, old stone walls. Peekaboo views, tall tan grasses, and 'Lord of the Ring' style streams. You could spend a week just wandering around taking in all the detail.
Back on the main road after a photo stop I began to feel a bump in the road. It is the kind of repetitive, rhythmic bump that sets off a little panic nerve in the back
of your brain. “Surely it is the pavement, But it seems to change with my rate of speed.” A quick check of my back tire reviled that the tire had sprung a dime size hole. The inner tube was not effected because of liners I had installed, but it was bulging, seeking the fresh air it could taste. I released some of the pressure and walked the bike.
I had several miles to go and know this would not work. I decided to ride. If it blows then I will walk or hitch. I made it into the town of Castletownbere and went to the grocery store on a recommendation. This is how Ireland works: As I suspected the Grocery did not have a replacement tire, but the Staff new who to call, and they did call. Once we determined that the right size tire was in the area and available a woman drove into town and sold me the replacement tire on the street in front of the grocery. Within 30 minutes I had the new tire on and was headed out to the retreat center, which was good since it was getting close to 6 pm.
Dzogchen Beara retreat center and Hostel to Eyeries - 27 miles
The next day I left the Hostel to continue on my planned bike trip, considering a return to participate ina a retreat on Easter weekend. I Cycled around the end of the Peninsula to see the sights. The road climes up to the end of the Peninsula and then descends steeply as you head back towards the north side of the Peninsula.
One has not lived until you go flying down a narrow Irish mountain road at 35 miles and hour. Two thoughts entered my mind. The first was the advice a friend gave me as we raced down Mount Rainier on much wider roads, “don't use your breaks.” The logic of this seemed to escape me at the moment. The second thought was that my bike was 10 years old and I wondered what the expected life span was. I had an image of the bike disintegrating below me.
When I arrived in what probably has been the nicest B&B I have stayed in yet the owner informed me that there was no food in Eyeries and I would need to catch a cab into
Castletownbere to get dinner. Because of a pass road that cuts north-south across the Peninsula I was 4 miles from the town. I had traveled 67 miles to get myself 4 miles and a cab ride from where I had been 24 hours earlier. I wondered if the other tire needed repair.
This irony might be enough to signal my return to the retreat center and Hostel. The reality is that my body had had enough cycling. But more importantly then that It became apparent to me that it was time to stop and reflect on this journey and its various levels.
There are many reasons I have embarked on this physical, emotional, spiritual, and experiential journey. Some have been put out on the web. Some have been shared with friends. Some are my own domain and many of those are not truly understood by me. But much had come together and it was time to sit in a beautiful place and reflect.
When you leave a retreat people ask how was the retreat. It is ha hard question to answer. I will say that despite the best efforts of the facilitators and planners I had a good experience. The purpose of the retreat apparently had been evolving and changing up to the day of the retreat. A complimentary retreat, lead by the master of this particular thread of Tibetan Buddhism, was taking place in England. Much effort was taken to have a live link between the two retreats. The efforts largely failed. To fill the gaps they showed us videos of the master at work.
I do not learn much by watching the telly (as it is called over here. Since I was a Catholic in a Catholic country at a Buddhist retreat on Easter I had no guilt in taking side trips in nature to do my own work. The weather was nice and the landscape truly awe-inspiring. The food was good.
On one of the side trips I rode my bike up a side road and then a long drive way. Two brightly colored houses had caught my eye. One was blue and one was pink. As I approached the houses a little girl was sitting just inside the front door that was a single plate of glass. Her presence sealed my notion of asking permission before taking pictures. I could just see it: me couched down with my eye to the camera as the adult comes to the door, or better yet up the drive. As I stopped my bike I forgot to take my foot out of my stirrup. As the little girl watched I slowly crashed into their daffodil lined ditch. “That will get their attention.” Lucy for me, just as I remembered this was Easter Sunday, the woman of the house emerged from the shower.
There was other benefits to the time in the retreat. Chief of those was the stay in a comfortable, friendly Hostel with good people. Also was the ability to have real conversations with real people about real things. It was nice to get beyond the repetitive tourist-local conversation. That conversation usually goes something like this:
“Are you on holiday?”
“yes, for three months.”
“Oh, Jesus, that is a good long time. I suppose you will make a go of it.”
“yep.”
“Where are you from?”
“The States, near Seattle.”
“Yes, Curt Cobain.”
.....
At this point a text message has just arrived and they are off.
I digress. After the retreat I said goodbye to new found friends and got a ride back to Cork. My plans are changing by the moment. As a friend of mine likes to say “we make it up as we go along.” Later today I will leave on a bus for Galway on the West Coast of Ireland. From there I will spend eleven days exploring the Connemara region. After more then a month in Ireland I hope to actually hear some (good traditional Irish music in a pub. This is the area to do it, chiefly because of the tourist presence in the area. Ten years ago I remember this region being the most beautiful of a very beautiful country. On May 1st I will need to be at the Shannon Airport to travel to Germany for two weeks.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.073s; Tpl: 0.011s; cc: 13; qc: 29; dbt: 0.0398s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb
alla
non-member comment
Dang!
Bryan, You make me laugh! I really enjoy your blog in the morning. Will you continue to beguile us with your wit when you return home? Bryan'a Tacoma Travel Blog....Ciao my friend. Happy Trails!