Our last sleep in Camp (until next time) wasn't great because my mind kept practicing how to drive on the wrong side of the road in a standard with a gear box in the wrong place. Top that with a sore throat and stuffy nose and you've got a rather unpleasant night. I don't get sick, but my body sure has been trying to do just that since before we left the States, but I refuse to give in. However, my insides seem to know The Walk is over, and they are losing the ability to fight back. So be it.
We showered and hustled to the dining room for breakfast to be greeted by gregarious John Doyle. The man is a charmer, that's for certain. He inquired after "our patient" and fussed over us. I had only toast and coffee (but the toast was slathered with Kerry butter - pure gold that is) because we're not going to be burning hundreds of calories in the car. I can't afford the extra calories of rashers.
Back in our room, we pack in a hurry. As I'm reorganizing - our boots and walking poles are no longer needed - I get a text from Dougie. His flight out of Miami had been delayed because of weather. When he finally got to Philly, he'd missed his connecting flight by ten minutes. They put him up in a flea bag motel and told him to wait. We were planning to pick him up at the Westport train station that afternoon, but he wasn't going to make it. Poor Dougie.
No sooner are we packed when John announces that our ride to Kerry Airport has arrived. We exchanged a great big hug and he wished us well on our quest to find family. A little piece of my heart stayed behind in Camp. It will be happy there until I can go back to collect it...hopefully next year.
Should you be so lucky as to find yourself headed for the Dingle Peninsula, you must go directly to Camp and visit John and his lovely sister; you'll thank me later. www.campjunctionhouse.com
Waiting behind the Camp Junction House was a van labeled "Paddy's Bus". Below that it read, "He will drive you to drink" You can find Mr. Paddy at http://kerrytourist.net/, but the site is currently under construction. This is an idea that could easily be translated to the Keys, but I'm never going back so someone else can run with it- but please give the man credit.
Paddy was fairly quiet on the drive from Camp to Tralee, where we were to deposit the dwarf. At the train station, Lauren and I got out to hug Own and take pictures. We wished our friend God Speed and good health, promising to keep in touch. In spite of his grumpy disposition, we love our dwarf and were sad to part company.
I don't know where you are now, Owen, but we wish you safe travels in your magic underpants and much happiness. Be well and stay grumpy until we meet again.
Back in the van, I struck up a conversation with our driver. Paddy was a character, to be sure. Turns out, he assumed the dwarf was my husband and that he didn't trust my driving so he was taking the train rather than risk his neck in a car. I may have given Paddy an ear full. Speaking with a thick brogue, he advised me how to drive in Ireland. Throughout the three-quarters of an hour it took to get to the airport, our driver educated me on safe driving practices. His help was truly invaluable.
When we arrived, I paid him far more than the going rate - he'd charged us next to nothing and gave us much. He insisted on waiting outside in his van until we had our car and were ready to go. At that point, he directed me to follow him - it was in the opposite direction of where he was heading, but he said he'd turn around later. I did as I was told and once I figured out the gear box, we followed along. A couple of cars snuck between our car and his van, so he pulled over, waving on the offending motorists, and then pulled back to lead us like a momma duck with her babies.
When Paddy figured I was comfortable and could be trusted, he turned off, waving us on straight and was gone from sight. I will forever be grateful for his fatherly words of wisdom and the care he took to be sure we were safe. Like so many others we've met on this adventure, I wish I could repay his kindness.
If you ever find yourself in Kerry in need of a ride or a tour guide, please call Dear Paddy. (I feel like an infommerical.) His email is: jobie62@hotmail.com and his phone is 0877538679. Please tell him the red-headed American walker and her daughter who were headed to Mayo to find family sent you. He'll remember, I've no doubt.
Lauren is a kick ass navigator! I handed her a map and told her where we needed to go. She was spot on in her directions. I'd never have made it as easily as I did without her there to shout and point. She's a terrific pointer.
What should have been a four hour drive turned into six or so, because every time there was a symbol for a castle on the map, we drove off course to find it. Ten minutes, forty minutes, we didn't care. However long it took to find each one was absolutely worth it to us. I'm so happy we drove instead of taking the train, because we never would have seen some really great castles and met some cute gas station attendants when we needed to replace our stores of baguettes, apples, and waters.
At some point, we realized we needed to buckle down and just get to Newport or we'd never make it. It was actually easy to do, until Lauren fell asleep for five or ten seconds and I veered off our route. She still hasn't forgiven me.
"I repeated what we needed to do at least twelve times and then I fell asleep for five seconds and you go the wrong way!"
The dwarf's disposition must have rubbed off, because she couldn't let it go. We eventually got where we were going, so I don't understand why she was so pissy. It could have been that her tape worm needed to be fed.
We checked into the Black Oak Inn, across from the Black Oak River in Newport, Mayo. It's not the Ritz, but the owner - Joe Reid - has a heart that makes it much classier and homey than the Ritz could ever be. After dropping off our bags, we walked a few doors down to a pub and tucked into a hot meal accompanied by a few pints.
I felt restless and asked our server if there was a graveyard within walking distance. (My gut told me that most of the Lavelle's I'd meet would already be dead.) She said that there were a few graves in the church yard, but there was a bigger one about a five minute walk from the pub. Yes! Lauren agreed to walk there with me.
As with all Irish measurement, it wasn't anywhere near a five minute walk, which Lauren pointed out to me again and again on the way there. About a mile from the pub, we found a very old cemetery tucked in a gully off the road. Like the cemeteries we'd seen from the road, the tombstones are tall Celtic crosses in front of a large burial plot marked off with a short cement lip. We split up and found four or five Lavelle graves, none of them obviously part of my family tree, but there's really no telling. Once we were good and sweaty, we headed back to our B&B, while Lauren pointed out again that the cemetery was more than a five minute walk.
The sky was turning pretty colors and the hills were green. I was happy and thankful to have a daughter who understands how important this search is to me. Never does she complain. I am lucky to have such a wise and generous girl as a travel partner.
Back at the B&B, we discovered the wifi didn't work in our room, so we headed down to the lounge/pub to sip another pint while Lauren talked with friends and I watched Ghana and Germany go at it during that night's World Cup game. While I sort of watched the game, I studied the old photos on the walls and listened to the locals gossip, just waiting to hear something about a Lavelle.
As we settled into our beds for the night, with our windows wide open, we heard the sounds of the pub's patrons below. They were smoking and talking, enjoying the night air. We didn't begrudge them their fun. Another brief text from Dougie told us that he was enroute to Frankfurt. Hmm, I didn't realize that was in Ireland.
I fell asleep happy for driving us all the way from Kerry on the wrong side of the road without killing us. In fact, we didn't have a single white-knuckle moment. I felt bad for Doug who left home two days ago and still hadn't arrived. I'd hate to be the United Airlines customer service rep he deals with when he finally gets to Dublin.
Good night, Mayo. I hope to find family within your boundaries and hopefully, some of them on this side of the grass.
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