My trip to Ireland: part 9

First of all: I'm sorry that it has taken me so long to sit down and write more about my trip. I hope you can forgive me.

Through life we experience things all the time, and some of these experiences turn into strong memories while others get washed away. I'm still amazed how this trip has left such a strong mark on me, and that even the smallest detail still can be found in my memory. I'll guess you're sick and tired of listening to my higher-than-myself-talk, so here's the next chapter in my story:

Dublin is a wonderful town, but both I and Steven felt that now was the time to get away for a day. We had been talking about going to Wicklow Mountains and Glendalough, and it would prove to be the perfect escape from a busy city.
The weather was fairly nice when we walked downtown to find the bus that would take us away. Not too warm, but not cold either. I picked up a newspaper on the way to have something to read on the way (I wouldn't be needing it after all...) and the headline was dealing with the tragedy in Germany where 19 people had died.
Why do I remember stuff like this? It is probably my brain that connects all the little details into something bigger...or?
Anyway, our guide for the day was Martin, a very funny man with an extensive knowledge about everything from Irish history to animals (especially sheep...). I was glad that we were going in a minibus without too many tourists...there's a reason why I had tried to avoid being a tourist...

Our route took us out of the city through the area where one can find the embassies, and then following the road to Dun Laoghaire; the harbour-town just south of Dublin.Our guide was really talkative and had to stop himself several times from talking too much ^^

It didn't take us too long before we were out of the urban areas totally, and all we could see around us were green meadows, sheep with stripes (Martin were joking about them, saying that red stripe indicated that the wool of that particular sheep would be a red sweater, and blue stripe a blue sweater...they are actually a form of identification-mark, so the farmers can see which sheep that are theirs) and something that the Irish perhaps would call mountains...
But as Martin pointed out; the Wicklow Mountains should actually be called Wicklow Hills, but that is not nearly as cool as 'mountains'.

The rolling hills of Wicklow?

As the clouds slowly drifted away we could see the true beauty of the landscape that seemed to go on forever. All the different hues of green that I have found in Ireland still surprises and pleases me, and these rolling hills were no exception. The weather was perfect for an excursion; not too hot with a mild breeze gently caressing our faces when we got out of the minibus to take pictures.

The Guinness-lake

This lake must have been one of the darkest I've ever seen. The reason for this is that the river coming down from the hills have run through enormous amounts of bog-land, and coloured it almost black. The white sand at the end gives the viewer the illusion of a pint of Guinness...

Brilliant isn't it?

This location, we were told, is very popular as a backdrop for movies, and you might see this white trailer near the right edge of the picture. This is the filmcrew for the upcoming King Arthur-TV-series; "Camelot" (apparently with Ralph Fiennes as Merlin....)

Beautiful scenery; Glenmacnass Valley

 We followed the Military Road; Bóthar Míleata, through the mountains, and all the way were Martin chatting away about the different rebellions throughout Irish history, and especially the 1798-rebellion which really left its mark on the region. The rebels that weren't caught, fled into the Wicklow Mountains, because they knew the English couldn't follow them properly there (try to lead a small army of men through the bogs...not a very pleasant experience...). So in the end the English were so sick and tired of loosing, that they decided to build a road through the mountains. They started building in 1800 and were not finished until 9 years later. This road is gave them an opportunity to hunt down and capture the insurgents more easily, and it made the Wicklow Mountains a less popular place for hiding.

A sunny break at Laragh

Before going to Glendalough, we would have a stop in Laragh for lunch. Me and Steven quickly went in the opposite direction of the rest of the tourists, and found a lovely peaceful spot by the river were we could eat our lunch in total silence, just listening to the water running past us in its own tempo.

Is this Lothlorien? No, it is just Ireland

At this place, time didn't matter. To just see and feel without thinking about tomorrow was so liberating and wonderful, that I could have stayed there forever. The sun was shining merciless from the sky, but beneath the shadow of the branches and the leaves, life was pure bliss.

Just see how the light is falling though the leaves

I really love this photo. It's like Steven is walking into a mystical world filled with dragons, magic and adventures. The greenness is kinda overwhelming, it's coming against you as you watch, it's hypnotizes you and then....there's no way back into 'normality'. But why would we seek normality in an age when the individual is presented even stronger than before? Or has individuality become the new normality? Something to think about...

Lunchtime

After our little lunch we decided to explore the river some more, and around each bend of the track, there was something amazing to behold. It was like walking into a fairytale.

Only our rivers run free

When apples still grow in November
When Blossoms still bloom from each tree
When leaves are still green in December
It's then that our land will be free
I wander her hills and her valleys
And still through my sorrow I see
A land that has never known freedom
And only her rivers run free

Heaven?

But we couldn't stay there forever, even if we wanted to, so we rushed back to the parking lot where everyone was waiting...for us. The next stop now would be Glendalough.

Glendalough is one of the best preserved holy-places in Ireland. It is strongly connected to its 'founder' St Kevin who came to the Glendalough Valley to escape a very persistent woman (she was trying to get him to marry her, and he eventually solved the problem by pushing her off a cliff...) and his followers. And I can understand WHY he chose to come to THIS place. You can feel something special here, something that every human being should get a chance to feel.

A roundtower

These constructions were meant as a form of protection against any invading horde. The entrance was a couple of meters up the wall, so one needed a ladder to get in. When everybody was inside, one simply pulled the ladder up...

Monastic ruins

Glendalough soon became, after St Kevin arrival (around 6th century), a centre of meditation and prayers. This was a holy place, and many people went on pilgrimage here. It's religious 'strength' lasted until two events occurred:

1) Glendalough and Dublin were united in 1241

2) English forces destroyed  the settlement in 1389 (but: this didn't stop people from coming there)

The Walls of Faith

Closer to heaven

We were going to meet the minibus between the two lakes that had given Glendalough its name. The road/track that took us to the meetingpoint was just amazing. I will try to let the pictures talk now...

What lurks in here?

Alongside the road ran a track a little bit up in the forest we were passing through, and since we were a little bit fed up with the plain road, we chose to follow this instead. I felt like a child again, exploring the world for the first time and being free from every thought that had bothered me for so long.

A smile on the shore

At the shore of the Lower Lake we met some ducks, and guess what I found in my bag?  A crushed muffin from yesterday, and it seemed that the ducks really enjoyed the chocolatmuffin (maybe they are closet-sweet-teeth...?)  Ducks make me happy, they always seem to be smiling. Not a broad smile, more like a Mona Lisa-smile; curious and mysterious

Lower Lake

I'm almost expecting them to move, and start dancing...

Upper Lake

Home of the Elves

When I was there, and now that I'm looking through the photos of this extraordinary place, I can understand even better why Celtic/Irish mythology is filled to the brink with creatures connected to the earth and nature. Its beauty just blows me away....

It was with tears in my eyes that we drove away from this place, and I will forever treasure the memorize I made there. Before heading back to Dublin, there was one more place on the list we were going to visit: Avoca

I was very sleepy at this point, so the only thing I would do at this beautiful place was to stand in the shade of a big tree and take in everything that I had experienced this day. Steven went exploring, and  this picture below is his (thank you Steven)

Avoca is famous for weaving, and the techniques have been handed down through generations. It was a truly picturesque and very charming village.

On the way there we passed the home of Charles Stewart Parnell; Avondale. Of course Martin once more enlightened us on the tragic history of this man and his shameful exit from national politics.

This had indeed been an amazing day, and on our way back to Dublin I fell asleep on Steven's shoulder; I was exhausted. 

BAAA!

So a perfect day was ended in the perfect manner: 

A Pint at the Porterhouse