Unplanned Memories: Ireland
by Renee Thornton –
It was never our intention to vacation in Ireland this year. We had our sights set on hiking Olympic National Park. However, after a chance conversation last fall with a woman who had traveled throughout Europe, we changed our minds. She told us most places she would never revisit, but she’d happily live in Ireland. We were intrigued enough to change our plans.
It was also never our intention to go to Ireland without a well-planned itinerary, but after many conversations with people who regularly visit Ireland, we were told to plan as little as possible and just wing it. They advised us to simply visit the pubs along the way and ask the locals where to stay and what to do. Naturally we had our ideas about places we absolutely wanted to see and things we wanted to do, but we soon found truth in the adage, the best laid plans are often not.
On our third day after some time spent hiking in Killarney National Park, our next destination was Cork City where we did have a preplanned reservation at a guest house. When we arrived, we spent the next two hours utterly lost looking for it. Whether it was the fact of being lost for so long or overwhelmed by the congested narrow streets, left hand driving or the unending roundabouts, we were already weary of the city wishing we had stayed in Killarney for the night. We finally did find the guest house and upon checking in we were told there was a mix up in the reservation and they did not have a room for us. After looking at our map and with much alacrity we were back on the road heading southwest out of the city.
At the time we never realized that reservation mix up was about to become one of the best parts of our vacation. We originally had no intention of visiting either Kinsale or Cobh, but we delightedly got sucked in with their charm, the sea, the Irish music and the many locals who never hesitated to pull up a stool and strike up a conversation.
On our first stop in Kinsale we luckily got the very last accommodation in the entire town that night at the Whitehouse Inn. Kinsale is a town rich in military history and geographically tied to the 1915 sinking of the RMS Lusitanian (11 miles off the Old Head of Kinsale). Making time for a visit to the 17th century Charles Fort as well as the Kinsale Museum were a must.
After a delicious creamed cod dinner, we were fortunate to get a table in the corner of a crowded pub and listen to a lively Irish band. We were further entertained by a ‘hen night’ that was going on. The crazily dressed and loud young women only served to heighten the already riotous atmosphere of the pub. I quickly was to learn that one cannot help but get swept up in the endless smiles, good will and loud clapping that Irish music seems to bring out in everyone!
The next day we took the quick trip east to the seaport town of Cobh (pronounced Cove). My eyes were immediately drawn to the majestic cathedral towering on the hillside above the shops and colorful homes. Cobh ascends from the sea and dominates Cork Harbor, one for the largest natural harbors in the world and the last port call of the Titanic. That little town immediately stole my heart and set my imagination running.
After getting settled into our room in the elegant Commodore Hotel, I was looking forward to taking the Titanic Experience. We were shown where the Titanic moored at the mouth of Cork Harbor. It only moored for 19 minutes while the passengers that boarded in Cobh were ferried over to join the ship for that fateful trip across the North Atlantic.
The picture of those 123 passengers (taken by a young priest who had disembarked from the Titanic at Cobh), eerily affected me when I realized we were standing in the exact same spot as they were on April 11th, 1912 as they waited to board the Titanic, only 3 days before it sank. I felt a twang of remorse as I imagined their soaring excitement and their guileless innocence as to what lie ahead. The picture that greeted us at the entrance to the museum of the pompous looking Captain Edward Smith and his first mate was haunting. I could not stop looking at the replicas of the first-class cabin room, their luggage and personal effects, the dinner menus and other items on display. All that opulence was so grimly ironic and to be physically present where that sad piece of history unfolded touched me.
My other must do was to visit the Cathedral. As we started walking up the very steep cobbled street that led to St Colman’s Cathedral, I was in awe of the towering edifice. Upon ascending the hill, we stood with our heads leaning back to fully take in the stunning structure. Almost as if we willed it, the church bells started pealing off the hour. It was surreal looking up at the dove-grey Cathedral draped in the bright blue sky and listening to the music of the bells filling the air.
We spotted the Caretaker in the outside entrance and he was more than happy to tell us the cathedral’s story. St Colman’s is built in the neo-Gothic style and took over 47 years to build. It opened for its first mass in 1911. The spire is 300 feet tall and contains a 49-bell carillon, the largest in Ireland.
Upon entering the nave, I was dumbstruck. The massive stained-glass windows, the huge arched wooden ceilings, the extremely beautiful marble carvings and stonework literally took my breath away. It was an incredibly spiritual moment. I was so overcome with emotion and the feeling of such insignificance in its grandeur that I was moved to tears. We spent quite a bit of time there just sitting and taking it all in. We watched as others who entered were also silenced by the same astonishment we were experiencing. It is my most cherished memory of Ireland.
As memories go, of course I will always remember the grandeur of the iconic Cliffs of Moher and the geological uniqueness of the Giant’s Causeway. I still envision the stark beauty of the Dingle Peninsula and the breathtaking panoramic views from the top of Diamond Hill in Connemara National Park. I vividly recall the edge of the world feel of the town of Achill with its sandy white beaches at Keem Strand that end abruptly at the frigid North Atlantic.
However, it is those two unplanned days that I will always remember most. Now whenever I hear a church bell pealing, I close my eyes and am taken back to the wonderful unplanned memory of St Colman’s Cathedral and that little town of Cobh.