Well, I'm sure many of you have noticed that there haven't been many posts lately. I'd like to say it has been due to lots of traveling or some crazy new project, however, the answer is no.
Since we've returned from our honeymoon we've been so busy with stuff. The stuff we like to avoid and put off. The stuff that's not exciting, but has to be done. Well, not all of it is not fun, it just takes time.
We’ve been working on all those pictures from Chamonix, the wedding and trips and the honeymoon. I know there are random ones in there too, but I’m still trying to finish the honeymoon to move onto those. Nate, on the other hand, has far surpassed my photos and been working on more posters for the wall.
I think many of you know that our wedding pictures came back from our photographer, so we’re trying to pick out which ones to print there too. There are so many good ones to choose from and then we must pick sizes and all that good stuff.
Another big thing we’re trying to do is take a break. We’ve done so much traveling up until the wedding and then afterwards that we’re tired. It’s nice to be in your own house or not far from home for a few weekends. We’re trying to do that cleaning thing, whatever that is too :) So much stuff. And for those of you who have seen our little house, it’s full, and much of it needs to go. Thanks to my brother who slept in the gear/wedding/junk room while he was here, and Jef who slept on the couch. It was a lot of fun though. We do wish you could have stayed longer.
We’re also working on Nate’s stuff. Need to keep on those doctors for notes to the insurance that doesn’t believe you need to be in the hospital. That’s a whole different can crap we don’t need to start here.
Anywho, we’re hoping to get back out soon. We have Rome coming up for us over Thanksgiving and then the Hinterbrand Lodge we head to in December.
As for now, Halloween is coming up. We’re heading to a party and haven’t decided on costumes yet. Maybe a white trash pirate, something scary with a big wig, or whatever we can find to throw together in the house. I did carve a Jack O’ Pirate.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Friday, October 9, 2009
Surfing in Ireland - and a bit of my surf history
I used to surf. Not exceptionally well, but I did surf and I surfed often. My first ever experience on a surfboard happened at Pacific Beach in San Diego, California. This was around 1996 or so. I headed out in to the smallish waves with a 6'2" thruster borrowed from an Australian transplant who was an acquaintance and I proceeded to get my ass kicked by the baby waves. I don't remember much about my time trying to stand on the potato chip of a board I was using. I mainly remember watching a girl near me struggling to get up on her board. After one particular wipeout, we ended up near each other. I off-handedly commented to her, "so, you're a beginner too, huh?" She looked at me and sneered, "this is my third year surfing". All I could think was "hey, I ain't doing too bad 'cause I'm doing a helluva lot better than her!"
Fast-forward a few years. I was lucky enough to meet Markus Mead, the king of cool, the king of mellow, the king of cold waves. We became acquainted through a friend I had gone to high school with and that Markus had gone to Western Oregon State College with. I knew that you could surf in Oregon since my roommate my first year at Oregon State, John Lucia, headed for the beach every now and then. I thought he was nuts and rebuffed his invitation to surf the Oregon waves. Markus, however, was able to convince me to brave the cold waters of Seaside one weekend, one of the more memorable weekends in my time at OSU. I didn't do too well, Markus broke the fin on my rented Hammer board, but damn was it a good time! Markus had me hooked. We surfed a few more times before I graduated and finally headed off to Hawaii. I ended up on the North Shore of Oahu, the Shangri La and surfing nirvana of the world. I wasn't a good surfer when I arrived and wasn't that great when I left. But I surfed a lot. And I learned a lot. A lot. One of my favorite scars is from a reef cut I sustained near Waimea Bay on my pinky finger. It runs the whole length of the finger and the finger doesn't bend quite right anymore. I cherish that scar for the memories it brings back.
After Hawaii, I headed for Japan. The waves where I lived weren't great, but we were out there any time there was a swell. I surfed my first blizzard in Japan. I surfed 32 degree water in Japan. I learned how to ride a longboard in steep beach break pretty darn well while in Japan. My roommate and I lived right on the beach and we surfed every opportunity we could. We'd get up at 3:30am right when dawn was breaking to surf before work. Some of our best sessions were in these early hours. The land of the rising sun, indeed.
After Japan I landed smack-dab in the middle of Alaska. I toted three surfboards and three wetsuits along with me. I did paddle out in Cordova on a 1 foot day and we did paddle my boards down the Salcha River in front of my cabin - my only contact with my surfboards while I lived there. I then ended up dragging two of my boards and the wetsuits to Germany with me. For what reason? I don't know. Nostalgia? Afraid to let go of the past? Hope for the future? Germany isn't exactly a hotbed of surfing, but I wanted to bring my boards along anyway. I still haven't touched them since living here, but finally, FINALLY, I got to taste some salt water again - in Ireland.
While in Ireland, Dawn and I met up with Markus and his new wife, Jennifer. It was their honeymoon too, and Markus had put surfing on the backburner on this trip. A smart move, if I may say, because Markus can be described as an ex-surfing junky. Oh, he's still addicted, and boy can he surf, but I think he's become aware of when the surf best suits him and when he is best suited to surf. Markus' friend Mark, a resident of Derry and surely a crazy Irish surf addict himself, tried his best to lure us on a trip down south in a borrowed camper to catch some epic waves while we were there. One problem - this was the day after the epic music/drinking/party night at McGrorys and none of us wanted anything to do with it. Instead, we all settled on driving to Portaleen, a beautiful beach that was catching some nice waves just to the west of Culdaff where we were staying. I immediately broke out the camera when we got there, Dawn and I trailing the others as they headed to get suited up and to get some waves. After walking the beach for a bit, Dawn and I joined up with the group, finding most of them in the water. Sinead, with her bad shoulder, had gone for a run. We found Mark in his Landrover reading 'In to the Wild' which we had given to him and Sinead earlier that day. A book better than nice waist-high peelers? It's one of my favorites too, so I understood.
Dawn and I had no surf gear, and frankly, I was a bit wary of paddling out due to my messed up knee. However, the weather was nice, the air was warm and the waves looked damn tasty. Dawn had tried surfing before, also in San Diego, and was gung-ho to go out and give it a shot in Ireland. Luckily, Carey had a suit and there were plenty of boards for Dawn to use. Mark also had an extra suit for me but I was hesitant. Once Dawn got out there, though, I had to go in. She can make almost anything look fun. Watching her in the surf reminded me of what I was missing and the joy I used to feel when a wave hits you in the chest and knocks you over. I suited up as fast as I could - too fast, in fact - and put Mark's suit on backwards. I went out anyway. Just being in the water again was enough for me that day. I'd taken my pictures, documented the fun everyone was having, and got wet again. It was enough for me. The best part was seeing the smile on Dawn's face and realizing just how much we really do have in common. When you see pure happiness it's really easy to recognize - she was there.
For pictures from this day, go HERE There are also some random pictures HERE
On Monday of our trip, we didn't have a lot planned. The night before, Markus and I decided that we should attempt a dawn patrol session and Dawn and I agreed to meet him at 7am the next morning. I think we all kind of forgot that we were at 55 degrees north latitude and that it wouldn't get light until 7:30am or so. Plus, the weather wasn't looking too good. But, we eventually headed down to the port of Culdaff finding the winds favorable and the waves not too bad. Where we first checked, although not large, the waves looked a bit menacing and there were a lot of rips forming on the beach. Markus ran up the beach (literally) to check the river mouth, ran back, and reported that it looked good there and that the waves weren't quite as mean looking. He could have handled any wave on that beach with ease, but I’m happy he stuck with us.
After a five minute walk down to the river mouth, I concurred with his assessment that things looked good. Markus and I paddled out while Dawn took the boogie board out to mess around in the shorebreak. Markus and I had some good chats while sitting in the water and it felt GREAT to be out there with him again. We laughed and smiled and enjoyed watching Dawn play on the inside on here booger - she was having a blast. Markus caught wave after wave while I struggled, holding back knowing my knee wouldn't hold me on a quick pop-up. At one point, being the dumbass that I am, I popped up normally and had my knee quickly buckle on me sending me straight in to the water. I didn't say anything at the time, even after being asked by Markus and Dawn if I was okay, but I was hurting. I eventually conceded the board to Dawn, giving her a chance at doing some real surfing while I took the boogie board to play around inside. This actually hurt worse than surfing. I was getting frustrated - I just wanted to catch one wave, relive the old feeling of gliding down the face, getting one decent wave in Ireland. I finally coaxed the board back from Dawn, ready to give it one last go. Bad idea. I DID catch a wave and I DID get a short ride and I DID catch a surfboard to the head. After getting thwacked, my first thought was my recently repaired broken jaw. I was a bit dazed but realized nothing was out of the ordinary until I heard Dawn scream. I was apparently bleeding pretty badly from a cut just above my left eyebrow. Markus, in his infinite wisdom repeated the old idiom to me – ‘Just one more is never a good idea’. As previously stated, I ‘m a dumbass…..
We headed back to the car, went back to the River House, had Jennifer perform some triage and then left for the hospital in Carndonagh. Thirty minutes in, some glue and a bandage and 40 Euros later and all was well with the world. My head hurt and that's what everyone seemed concerned with. Truthfully, my knee was hurting way worse than my head. So it goes.
Anyway, I've now got my Ireland souvenir, something better than any tattoo and something that will always bring up good memories. Kind of like my pinky scar from Hawaii. It could have been much worse if the board had hit me an inch or two lower on the head. Finally, a stroke of luck for me in a warped, sadistic sense. But damn, it was all worth it.
Fast-forward a few years. I was lucky enough to meet Markus Mead, the king of cool, the king of mellow, the king of cold waves. We became acquainted through a friend I had gone to high school with and that Markus had gone to Western Oregon State College with. I knew that you could surf in Oregon since my roommate my first year at Oregon State, John Lucia, headed for the beach every now and then. I thought he was nuts and rebuffed his invitation to surf the Oregon waves. Markus, however, was able to convince me to brave the cold waters of Seaside one weekend, one of the more memorable weekends in my time at OSU. I didn't do too well, Markus broke the fin on my rented Hammer board, but damn was it a good time! Markus had me hooked. We surfed a few more times before I graduated and finally headed off to Hawaii. I ended up on the North Shore of Oahu, the Shangri La and surfing nirvana of the world. I wasn't a good surfer when I arrived and wasn't that great when I left. But I surfed a lot. And I learned a lot. A lot. One of my favorite scars is from a reef cut I sustained near Waimea Bay on my pinky finger. It runs the whole length of the finger and the finger doesn't bend quite right anymore. I cherish that scar for the memories it brings back.
After Hawaii, I headed for Japan. The waves where I lived weren't great, but we were out there any time there was a swell. I surfed my first blizzard in Japan. I surfed 32 degree water in Japan. I learned how to ride a longboard in steep beach break pretty darn well while in Japan. My roommate and I lived right on the beach and we surfed every opportunity we could. We'd get up at 3:30am right when dawn was breaking to surf before work. Some of our best sessions were in these early hours. The land of the rising sun, indeed.
After Japan I landed smack-dab in the middle of Alaska. I toted three surfboards and three wetsuits along with me. I did paddle out in Cordova on a 1 foot day and we did paddle my boards down the Salcha River in front of my cabin - my only contact with my surfboards while I lived there. I then ended up dragging two of my boards and the wetsuits to Germany with me. For what reason? I don't know. Nostalgia? Afraid to let go of the past? Hope for the future? Germany isn't exactly a hotbed of surfing, but I wanted to bring my boards along anyway. I still haven't touched them since living here, but finally, FINALLY, I got to taste some salt water again - in Ireland.
While in Ireland, Dawn and I met up with Markus and his new wife, Jennifer. It was their honeymoon too, and Markus had put surfing on the backburner on this trip. A smart move, if I may say, because Markus can be described as an ex-surfing junky. Oh, he's still addicted, and boy can he surf, but I think he's become aware of when the surf best suits him and when he is best suited to surf. Markus' friend Mark, a resident of Derry and surely a crazy Irish surf addict himself, tried his best to lure us on a trip down south in a borrowed camper to catch some epic waves while we were there. One problem - this was the day after the epic music/drinking/party night at McGrorys and none of us wanted anything to do with it. Instead, we all settled on driving to Portaleen, a beautiful beach that was catching some nice waves just to the west of Culdaff where we were staying. I immediately broke out the camera when we got there, Dawn and I trailing the others as they headed to get suited up and to get some waves. After walking the beach for a bit, Dawn and I joined up with the group, finding most of them in the water. Sinead, with her bad shoulder, had gone for a run. We found Mark in his Landrover reading 'In to the Wild' which we had given to him and Sinead earlier that day. A book better than nice waist-high peelers? It's one of my favorites too, so I understood.
Dawn and I had no surf gear, and frankly, I was a bit wary of paddling out due to my messed up knee. However, the weather was nice, the air was warm and the waves looked damn tasty. Dawn had tried surfing before, also in San Diego, and was gung-ho to go out and give it a shot in Ireland. Luckily, Carey had a suit and there were plenty of boards for Dawn to use. Mark also had an extra suit for me but I was hesitant. Once Dawn got out there, though, I had to go in. She can make almost anything look fun. Watching her in the surf reminded me of what I was missing and the joy I used to feel when a wave hits you in the chest and knocks you over. I suited up as fast as I could - too fast, in fact - and put Mark's suit on backwards. I went out anyway. Just being in the water again was enough for me that day. I'd taken my pictures, documented the fun everyone was having, and got wet again. It was enough for me. The best part was seeing the smile on Dawn's face and realizing just how much we really do have in common. When you see pure happiness it's really easy to recognize - she was there.
For pictures from this day, go HERE There are also some random pictures HERE
On Monday of our trip, we didn't have a lot planned. The night before, Markus and I decided that we should attempt a dawn patrol session and Dawn and I agreed to meet him at 7am the next morning. I think we all kind of forgot that we were at 55 degrees north latitude and that it wouldn't get light until 7:30am or so. Plus, the weather wasn't looking too good. But, we eventually headed down to the port of Culdaff finding the winds favorable and the waves not too bad. Where we first checked, although not large, the waves looked a bit menacing and there were a lot of rips forming on the beach. Markus ran up the beach (literally) to check the river mouth, ran back, and reported that it looked good there and that the waves weren't quite as mean looking. He could have handled any wave on that beach with ease, but I’m happy he stuck with us.
After a five minute walk down to the river mouth, I concurred with his assessment that things looked good. Markus and I paddled out while Dawn took the boogie board out to mess around in the shorebreak. Markus and I had some good chats while sitting in the water and it felt GREAT to be out there with him again. We laughed and smiled and enjoyed watching Dawn play on the inside on here booger - she was having a blast. Markus caught wave after wave while I struggled, holding back knowing my knee wouldn't hold me on a quick pop-up. At one point, being the dumbass that I am, I popped up normally and had my knee quickly buckle on me sending me straight in to the water. I didn't say anything at the time, even after being asked by Markus and Dawn if I was okay, but I was hurting. I eventually conceded the board to Dawn, giving her a chance at doing some real surfing while I took the boogie board to play around inside. This actually hurt worse than surfing. I was getting frustrated - I just wanted to catch one wave, relive the old feeling of gliding down the face, getting one decent wave in Ireland. I finally coaxed the board back from Dawn, ready to give it one last go. Bad idea. I DID catch a wave and I DID get a short ride and I DID catch a surfboard to the head. After getting thwacked, my first thought was my recently repaired broken jaw. I was a bit dazed but realized nothing was out of the ordinary until I heard Dawn scream. I was apparently bleeding pretty badly from a cut just above my left eyebrow. Markus, in his infinite wisdom repeated the old idiom to me – ‘Just one more is never a good idea’. As previously stated, I ‘m a dumbass…..
We headed back to the car, went back to the River House, had Jennifer perform some triage and then left for the hospital in Carndonagh. Thirty minutes in, some glue and a bandage and 40 Euros later and all was well with the world. My head hurt and that's what everyone seemed concerned with. Truthfully, my knee was hurting way worse than my head. So it goes.
Anyway, I've now got my Ireland souvenir, something better than any tattoo and something that will always bring up good memories. Kind of like my pinky scar from Hawaii. It could have been much worse if the board had hit me an inch or two lower on the head. Finally, a stroke of luck for me in a warped, sadistic sense. But damn, it was all worth it.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
What's the Craic? Our Honeymoon in Ireland
Disclaimer: This may upset some sensitive types out there or people who lick the Queen's boots, but in this post when I refer to Ireland, it will generally mean both Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland as a whole. We were back and forth between the countries numerous times, often in the same day. So, instead of typing 'The Republic of Ireland" or "Northern Ireland", I'm just going to use "Ireland." If the cause calls for it, I will specifically refer to the country proper.
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Ah, Ireland. The home of leprechauns, fairies, billions of sheep, rainbows, potatoes and Guinness Stout. It's also home to some of the nicest, most friendly people that you will ever meet. Ireland and Northern Island sit on a wee island in the eastern Atlantic Ocean, a stones throw from Scotland, Wales and England - and I mean this literally. This isn't bravado talking and I'm not taking a piss at the size of the country, but I'm pretty sure that I could hit Portpatrick in Scotland with a stone thrown from Donaghadee in Northern Ireland. But anyway, back to the people being nice. I have traveled here and there, been around the block as they say, and I have not met a nicer people than those I've found on the green isle of Ireland. Helpful, accommodating, generous, funny, fun-loving, polite - these are just a few words to describe the people who live there. God, what a pleasant change after living in Germany the last few years!
If there is one downfall to the island, it's the wetness of the place. Yes, it rains in Ireland - a lot! And it's often grey and blustery to boot. Now, I'm only basing this off of 10 days of being in country and a three day trip to Dublin back in May, but from my personal observations and what I've gathered from the locals, a 'nice' day is when it's not raining sideways and the wind is below 20 knots. But, the dampness and the clouds - it's different in Ireland. The landscape is perfectly built for such weather, soaking up the rain, producing vistas draped with bright green carpets of grasses and bushes. It is surprising, that in such a supposedly dreary place, just how bright things are. It also helps that the locals are used to this type of weather and don't let it affect their lives. I've been to many places where a few raindrops or even a threat of dampness drives everyone indoors and off of the streets. This is not so in Ireland, where the possibility of rain on any given day is almost a sure thing. Life goes on, even when it rains, and the Irish deal with what weather conditions they have better than most and more cheerfully than anyone.
We arrived in Belfast and the weather was as expected - Drizzly, windy and grey. Ahead of us was an hour and a half drive in our rental vehicle, a nice Landrover, to Culdaff located in Country Donegal, Republic of Ireland. For the driving portion of our trip, we brought along our trusty navigation system hoping that it would direct us to Culdaff with no problems. There are basically two routes to Culdaff from Belfast. One involves driving to Derry and then north up the peninsula while the other follows the coastline which eventually leads to a Ferry crossing of Lough Foyle and is the most direct way. From what I had researched on the internet, I was pretty sure that the route to Derry would be the best choice since the roads were supposedly better and more well-traveled. I needed something easy, something to bolster my confidence of driving on the 'wrong' side of the road. Our GPS unit would have none of it, however. I tried to trick it by following signs to Derry, ignoring the directions to 'go 1.5km and make a U-turn' to get us back on the GPS's preferred path – the shortest route. Eventually, the GPS won. At one point, I had no clue where we were and no signs for Derry had been observed for at least a half an hour. Much to our demise, we found ourselves at a Ferry dock, ready to shell out the 12 Euros for the crossing. But, as often happens in these moments, serendipity struck and we ended up eating one of the best hamburgers we've ever had in Europe. The small restaurant next to the dock provided the food and luckily we had enough time between Ferries for Dawn to run over and get a burger to go.
That night we met up with my good friend Markus and his new wife Jennifer at the River House in Culdaff, the cottage they were staying in for their visit. We had a good, albeit short, visit with them before deciding to turn in for the night. Dawn and I were still very tired from the wedding activities of the previous week and needed a good night’s rest knowing that the next day would be a busy one. I didn't end up sleeping quite as long as I would have liked, but felt refreshed the next morning and relished in having a lazy morning reading the newspaper and generally relaxing before everyone else awoke. When everyone was finally up, showered and we had some food in our bellies, we discussed what we were going to do during the day. We decided on doing some hiking along the coast and visiting some areas where Markus had not been on previous trips. As soon as we were geared up and ready to leave, there was a knock on the door. It was Mark Patterson, an old friend of Markus's, who had driven down from Derry with his girlfriend Sinead to see what we were up to. Our plans were immediately set aside as Mark had shown up with some fresh lamb that needed to be prepared for the evening’s meal. He also wanted to give us a tour of some local megalithic ruins in the area and we jumped at the opportunity. We ended up visiting four or five sites, all beautiful and haunting reminders of times past in Ireland. For a while, I even thought we were on a hunt for whales. It turns out, we were looking for old wells, something I would embarrassingly learn later after my Irish accent translator was tuned in better.
That evening we ate a fantastic meal of fresh lamb and what seemed like 20 side dishes. Josh and Carrie, two Yanks living and working in Belfast and long-time acquaintances of Markus, also joined us for dinner. There were plenty of laughs to go around - as they say in Ireland, the craic was good! After enjoying the meal and gulping down pints of cider and glasses of wine, we headed over to McGrorys, a local Inn and Pub that often hosts fantastic musical acts and concerts. That night, an Irish band was playing, a well-known act in the country that we were very lucky to be seeing during our stay. The concert was great, but what happened afterword in the pub was even better. On Friday nights at McGrorys, musicians gather to 'jam' in the pub, playing old classic Irish songs and also freestyling, playing whatever comes to them in that moment of inspiration. On this Friday night, not only were there the usual musicians, but members from the band that played that night also joined in. Mark joined in the musical melee on guitar and Sinead picked up the Bodhran, an Irish drum, banging away, both of them truly enjoying themselves and doing a damn good job of keeping up with the others. As the night wore on, pint upon pint of Guinness and Cider were consumed and eventually, the Irish whiskey made an appearance. After a couple of shots, I knew I was done for and finally headed up to our room in McGrorys (Dawn and I checked in earlier that day) around 4am. Mark and Sinead had shown us a great day and they had plans for us the next day, too. I was a bit afraid of what those plans would be considering a few of us got fairly pissed (drunk) and had gone to bed so late.
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This post is turning out a bit longer than I thought it would. I'll get on with the rest of it tomorrow. I may even have to divide it up in to a few sections. We experienced so much on our trip that I'd hate to leave anything out. Tomorrow - our surf experiences in Ireland. It only resulted in one hospital visit and I will now have a nice souvenir from our trip (it's not that bad - promise!).
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Ah, Ireland. The home of leprechauns, fairies, billions of sheep, rainbows, potatoes and Guinness Stout. It's also home to some of the nicest, most friendly people that you will ever meet. Ireland and Northern Island sit on a wee island in the eastern Atlantic Ocean, a stones throw from Scotland, Wales and England - and I mean this literally. This isn't bravado talking and I'm not taking a piss at the size of the country, but I'm pretty sure that I could hit Portpatrick in Scotland with a stone thrown from Donaghadee in Northern Ireland. But anyway, back to the people being nice. I have traveled here and there, been around the block as they say, and I have not met a nicer people than those I've found on the green isle of Ireland. Helpful, accommodating, generous, funny, fun-loving, polite - these are just a few words to describe the people who live there. God, what a pleasant change after living in Germany the last few years!
If there is one downfall to the island, it's the wetness of the place. Yes, it rains in Ireland - a lot! And it's often grey and blustery to boot. Now, I'm only basing this off of 10 days of being in country and a three day trip to Dublin back in May, but from my personal observations and what I've gathered from the locals, a 'nice' day is when it's not raining sideways and the wind is below 20 knots. But, the dampness and the clouds - it's different in Ireland. The landscape is perfectly built for such weather, soaking up the rain, producing vistas draped with bright green carpets of grasses and bushes. It is surprising, that in such a supposedly dreary place, just how bright things are. It also helps that the locals are used to this type of weather and don't let it affect their lives. I've been to many places where a few raindrops or even a threat of dampness drives everyone indoors and off of the streets. This is not so in Ireland, where the possibility of rain on any given day is almost a sure thing. Life goes on, even when it rains, and the Irish deal with what weather conditions they have better than most and more cheerfully than anyone.
We arrived in Belfast and the weather was as expected - Drizzly, windy and grey. Ahead of us was an hour and a half drive in our rental vehicle, a nice Landrover, to Culdaff located in Country Donegal, Republic of Ireland. For the driving portion of our trip, we brought along our trusty navigation system hoping that it would direct us to Culdaff with no problems. There are basically two routes to Culdaff from Belfast. One involves driving to Derry and then north up the peninsula while the other follows the coastline which eventually leads to a Ferry crossing of Lough Foyle and is the most direct way. From what I had researched on the internet, I was pretty sure that the route to Derry would be the best choice since the roads were supposedly better and more well-traveled. I needed something easy, something to bolster my confidence of driving on the 'wrong' side of the road. Our GPS unit would have none of it, however. I tried to trick it by following signs to Derry, ignoring the directions to 'go 1.5km and make a U-turn' to get us back on the GPS's preferred path – the shortest route. Eventually, the GPS won. At one point, I had no clue where we were and no signs for Derry had been observed for at least a half an hour. Much to our demise, we found ourselves at a Ferry dock, ready to shell out the 12 Euros for the crossing. But, as often happens in these moments, serendipity struck and we ended up eating one of the best hamburgers we've ever had in Europe. The small restaurant next to the dock provided the food and luckily we had enough time between Ferries for Dawn to run over and get a burger to go.
That night we met up with my good friend Markus and his new wife Jennifer at the River House in Culdaff, the cottage they were staying in for their visit. We had a good, albeit short, visit with them before deciding to turn in for the night. Dawn and I were still very tired from the wedding activities of the previous week and needed a good night’s rest knowing that the next day would be a busy one. I didn't end up sleeping quite as long as I would have liked, but felt refreshed the next morning and relished in having a lazy morning reading the newspaper and generally relaxing before everyone else awoke. When everyone was finally up, showered and we had some food in our bellies, we discussed what we were going to do during the day. We decided on doing some hiking along the coast and visiting some areas where Markus had not been on previous trips. As soon as we were geared up and ready to leave, there was a knock on the door. It was Mark Patterson, an old friend of Markus's, who had driven down from Derry with his girlfriend Sinead to see what we were up to. Our plans were immediately set aside as Mark had shown up with some fresh lamb that needed to be prepared for the evening’s meal. He also wanted to give us a tour of some local megalithic ruins in the area and we jumped at the opportunity. We ended up visiting four or five sites, all beautiful and haunting reminders of times past in Ireland. For a while, I even thought we were on a hunt for whales. It turns out, we were looking for old wells, something I would embarrassingly learn later after my Irish accent translator was tuned in better.
That evening we ate a fantastic meal of fresh lamb and what seemed like 20 side dishes. Josh and Carrie, two Yanks living and working in Belfast and long-time acquaintances of Markus, also joined us for dinner. There were plenty of laughs to go around - as they say in Ireland, the craic was good! After enjoying the meal and gulping down pints of cider and glasses of wine, we headed over to McGrorys, a local Inn and Pub that often hosts fantastic musical acts and concerts. That night, an Irish band was playing, a well-known act in the country that we were very lucky to be seeing during our stay. The concert was great, but what happened afterword in the pub was even better. On Friday nights at McGrorys, musicians gather to 'jam' in the pub, playing old classic Irish songs and also freestyling, playing whatever comes to them in that moment of inspiration. On this Friday night, not only were there the usual musicians, but members from the band that played that night also joined in. Mark joined in the musical melee on guitar and Sinead picked up the Bodhran, an Irish drum, banging away, both of them truly enjoying themselves and doing a damn good job of keeping up with the others. As the night wore on, pint upon pint of Guinness and Cider were consumed and eventually, the Irish whiskey made an appearance. After a couple of shots, I knew I was done for and finally headed up to our room in McGrorys (Dawn and I checked in earlier that day) around 4am. Mark and Sinead had shown us a great day and they had plans for us the next day, too. I was a bit afraid of what those plans would be considering a few of us got fairly pissed (drunk) and had gone to bed so late.
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This post is turning out a bit longer than I thought it would. I'll get on with the rest of it tomorrow. I may even have to divide it up in to a few sections. We experienced so much on our trip that I'd hate to leave anything out. Tomorrow - our surf experiences in Ireland. It only resulted in one hospital visit and I will now have a nice souvenir from our trip (it's not that bad - promise!).
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