Today's Random Pic...

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Tradition!!!

(Warning: This post contains topless photos - of me)

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Christmas in Ireland wouldn't be Christmas in Ireland without a freezing dip in the ocean!!

I have to admit several things: It is a bit crazy and foolish... Stripping down to my shorts in front of my whole community isn't one of my favorite things to do... My toes will probably always be blue... and I will probably get sick (again)... But a memorable run into the freezing North Atlantic in the dead of winter with some friends is worth it!

I decided (for sure) to do it this year on Christmas Eve, while at a Christmas party. I don't know if it was male ego or party adrenaline that made me commit, but at the end of the evening myself and two of my friends had all publicly committed to run into the ocean. Now pride and self-respect were on the line... I couldn't back down. We all met at noon down at the beach - along with most of my neighbors and a good portion of the village. I was shocked, however, to discover that the tide was IN. Usually each Christmas swim falls when the tide is out, and we have a nice sandy beach to run across before we get to the water. This year, however, we only had the rocky top part of the beach and giant waves crashing into us as we entered the water!

There really is no way to describe the sheer pain of hitting freezing water in nothing but your swimsuit. The temps on land were just above freezing, and the water was a nice 11C (52F)... but the water didn't feel warmer (at all)! Once I entered into the surf there really wasn't enough time to do much of anything before I was pounded repeatedly by shoulder height waves. As the first wave hit, I decided to take the plunge and go under. The only problem was that I was so cold that I couldn't catch my breath. It was sheer panic washing over me as I took about a million small breaths just trying to fill my lungs. It was then that I realized that the wave hitting me had stolen my sandals (which I had foolishly worn into the water). So - as my friends ran for the shore - I was forced to endure a few extra moments as I dove for my shoes.

After I came out of the water there was about two minutes of pain and coldness which was followed by the strangest warm feeling that just swept over my whole body. As my body temperature fell the temperature outside began to feel warmer and warmer. For a few moments it actually felt like a summer's day, and I was content to be outside in just my wet swimsuit. Soon after this, Dee evacuated me to our home where a roaring fire, hot shower, and warm cup of tea were waiting on me.

I know that this does not sound like a lot of fun....... but standing on the beach with my friends... and being able to laugh together about it for the rest of the year makes the whole thing worth it!


Dee was kind enough to take pictures of the craziness. She said that it was so cold and windy out that her eyes were watering, and she couldn't really see what she was taking pictures of. I think that they turned out great! Here are just a few:



Me and the lads getting ready to go in!
( Notice that we were smiling BEFORE we got in...)




That is me on the right - about to get drowned by the big wave!




Still me on the right... Dee captured the moment that I jumped in...!






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A ghost story - For Halloween

Leamaneh Castle - County Clare





This stately house was originally built around 1480 as a Norman Castle (you can see the original castle bit on the far right side). Over the centuries it has housed many Lords none of which is more famous than "Máire Rúa" (Red Mary). Máire was a fiery red headed woman who was a direct descendant of Brian Boru (the last high king of Ireland). It is said that her clan (The O'Brians) were very fair and loved by all the people that lived on their lands.

There is an interesting story about Máire and this castle. In her youth she was madly in love to her husband, but her husband made a fatal mistake. In 1651 he supported the Irish revolt against the English. The revolt was brutally put down, and Máire's husband was killed in battle. Fearing that her lands and wealth would be stripped away she quickly traveled to where the English army was camped. It was there that she quickly found and seduced an English officer. The two were soon married, and Máire's fortune was secure. Some time after their marriage, however, Máire overheard her new husband mocking her dead love. In a fit of rage Máire shoved the second husband from the third story window.

Máire went on to marry again.... and she also outlived her third husband. It is said by some, that on occasion a faint shadow of Máire Rúa can be seen passing by the empty window on the third floor... still watching over her lands and missing her true love...




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Street piper

I had to run into the city for a few things Saturday, and I was so grateful that I decided to bring my camera. I was walking down a small side street when I first heard the faint sounds of pipes... Oh, how I love that sound. There is just something magical and timeless about the sounds of traditional instruments in the open air.... I followed the sounds until I came across the piper. The uilleann pipes are the Irish bagpipes. Unlike their Scottish cousins are not meant to be played out on mountain tops, but rather to be with a fiddle beside a fireplace. They are softer and more delicate, and their tones are pleasing to the ear... and they instantly cause your foot to pat in time with it... The piper didn't mind a few pictures (after I put some money in his hat), and I stood and enjoyed the music for a few moments.













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The Running of the Mackerel

For two or three weeks at the end of August / beginning of September, conditions are just right for something magical to happen.... The mackerel run...

The high tides line up with the setting of the sun... and a small bait fish (known locally as a sprat) migrate close to the shores. These conditions make millions of hungry mackerel swim in close to the shore and bite at anything in the water. This flood of fish is a dream come true for any fisherman willing to throw out a line. Locals say that the fish are so bunched up close to the shore that they can be snatched out of the water by hand. I've never seen anyone do it, but I have seen many people pull in four or five at a time.

Right now everyone is anxiously awaiting the arrival of the mackerel. They have come in close to the shore several times over the last couple of weeks, but storms have pushed them back out again. Last night, however, the storms let up for a little while, and people flocked to the shore with their rods and reels to try their luck. I watched for awhile, but never saw anyone catch anything. Who knows... maybe they will be delayed until my dad comes to visit! Here is hoping!



The view from the shore last night...





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Making hay while the...

Living in Ireland - I quite often see flashes of a former world. It might be something as simple as an old man walking down the street with his cows... or a traditional fishing boat on the ocean... or even the look on someones face.... but the instant you see it you know that this truly is living history.... something that has not changed for generations. These brief windows always happen in a split second and when you are not expecting it...... They can never be planned and are never put on display for the tourists. Seeing them is just part of living here... something that you stumble upon... and when you do see them you instantly know that you have witnessed a treasure.

It happened again this week. I was out for a drive (not too far from where we live), and I noticed some hay stacks in a field. I parked at a pub down the road and hiked back to find them. After standing there taking a few pictures I decided to hike up some of the boreen (little side roads) to see some other hay stacks that were off in the distance (see the picture I got below).



Seeing hay stacks like this is becoming more and more rare these days. These are the real thing. The were not made by a machine, but rather have been dried and stacked by backbreaking labor... just as they have always been made. The farmers put a small plastic bag on top of them and then weigh it down attaching rocks with string on each corner of the bag. The result is a beautiful pile that is stable and won't blow away.


After walking down the boreen and back I decided that the lighting and sky were too nice to pass up. I had to keep walking and taking pictures. Boy... am I glad that I did! I walked up a large hill in hopes of getting some panoramic shots. Once I came to the crest of the hill I discovered that I was overlooking a field where a family was making hay. Seeing the several generations (at least three) working together just as they have for generations was a beautiful sight. It does not take a hopeless romantic like me to know that I was seeing something that may someday fade way. I really do love Ireland... and I love that even though it is a changing and modern country it has not lost its history... that it is alive in the fields...













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Making lace...

I had no idea that making lace - by hand - would be SO hard.



We stumbled on a little "Lace Museum" on a little back street far outside of the city center of Brugges. The area is known for lace, and there is still a great tradition of making lace the old fashioned way. The "Museum" consisted of several rooms with very delicate and old pieces of lace under glass. What a guy's dream come true... as if looking at lace in all the shops wasn't enough...................

I hope you know that I am kidding. I do, however, have to say that there is one VERY cool area of the "museum". In a small little side room there sat six or seven (very near sighted) women making lace. They quickly worked away and chatted as we sat and watched, and didn't mind when I snapped a few quick shots. I am still amazed at just how much work goes into making it by hand, and I have to say that the 'museum' really did give me a new appreciation for lace.

















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