Saturday, 8 September 2012
Thursday, 6 September 2012
reflections, stories and gratitude
September 2, 2012
I have just returned to Canada from my
trip to Ireland with Matt. It was a great experience that far
exceeded my hopes. It was great to travel with Matthew and he was
very tolerant/accepting of my idiosyncrasies. Thank you Matt.
I have made a point of not reading the
blog while on route and just completed reading it now for the first
time. I was very impressed by Matt's writing and it is interesting
to discover his perspective of things. I was moved by the
experience. There are many experiences that we did not share as they
were personal and private. I believe that the trip solidified the
bond between us. Matt, I am proud of the role that played in your
creation and thereby help make the world a better place. I love you.
I also want to say a few words about
family history and stories that I have gleaned from my conversations
with relatives.
The property in Glenmaquin (the
Hill)(on border of Creggan postal district) was bought by
Hetheringtons in 1850. During the period, 1850 to late 1960's (when
it was sold to Mr. Olsen) the hill was populated by a number of
families, namely the “Johnstons, McCleans and Hetheringtons”.
These families tended to be quite poor, and most socializing and
marriages were with people who lived in close proximity. As a result
The Creggan/Glenmaquin area was populated by a small number of
families who were highly interconnected by blood and marriage.
According to Tommy Johnson (he is the
husband of my aunt Eileen)(see: video) The Johnstons, McCleans, and
Hetherington's had historical relationships going back to the time of
Cormwell. The Hetherington's were associated with supplying the
Cromwell's army and (in addition to military service) worked as
bakers and butchers etc., After the plantation period they were
employed as stone masons, builders and labours. Documents from the
period note my grandparents as labourers.
The Johnstons were originally Scot's
from Aberdeen (I think) the Hetherington's from Northumberland.
(secondary reference: Steel Bonnets reveivers from Hethersgil). The
Johnston's tended to be farmers and landowners and bought a plot of
60 acres at the time of plantation. This eventually subdivided among
between three Johnston owners. In 1850 the Hetheringtons (who had
some sort of traditional relationship with the Johnstons) bought the
top 2.5 acres of this plot. In the early 1900' s there were at
least 6 inter-related residences on or near this original 60 acres.
As David put it – you were limited when the “only women you could
marry were within walking distance.”
One often told story from this period
was about the drainage dyke that Williams James (who lived with my
grandparents) dug “aye – he was a great man with a shovel”.
Most immediate Hetherington ancestors
left the hill in the 1960's and are buried in Whitechurch cemetery in
Ards (near Newtonards). There are several references to the name at
St. Eunnan's in Raphoe. Although the relationship the Hetherington's
in the graveyard of this Church is not clear, they are undoubtedly
related. The most confirmed relational presence at St. Eunnan's is
that of Nathaniel Heatherington who is noted on the wall as victim of
WWI. Apparently, he died in November 1914 in Belgium and his name
also appears on the monument at Ypres.
The property is located at the end of
L1017 (I think this is the correct number). Andrew Hetherington told
me that his dad (Johnston) would often go camping on the land there
in the summer. Andrew has given me directions on how to get there
that I have saved in a separate file. It is difficult to find as all
the fields look the same. In brief, once you are at the point that
the 1017 ends you are more less required to cross several muddy
marsh, moss and heather fields. Once on the property, there is an
old hawthrone tree growing next to a pile of dirt (which is the
bulldozed pile of rubble that was the old house). Also near the pile
is an old oak tree. The property has a great view (it is at the top
of the hill) to the north lies the Letterkenny valley, to the south
east the Donegal town gap, the south west Beltany Celtic stone circle
on a neighbouring hill top.
The house had a thatched roof and three
connected parts: a cow shed, an living area, a bed room. There was
also and outhouse and up stream a water well. The house was heated by
a peat fire which would always have a kettle on the boil. The kettle
or pot would be suspended over the fire on a swinging L pole that
allowed it to turned out of the fire when needed. Such as system was
also used to cook the famous Irish stew.
The house is now a pile of rubble over
grown with grass. There several pictures on record of when it was
still standing, This time we took pictures of Matt, David Johnston
(who lives in the family home) and I standing on the rubble pile.
David was also very kind to show us around and help arrange things.
After the tour we met Tommy Johnston and we drove around to visit the
school that my dad attended.
The story about the sale of land in the
mid 1960's is something like this: my after my grandparents and
William James left for Newtownards and died, my dad wanted to form a
sort of family trust and keep the land in the family for recreational
use. To accomplish this would have meant putting ownership in a
single name and the family group paying annual taxes etc. My father
did research in Dublin to try to get this to happen but died before
the project could be completed. The land was subsequently sold and
profits divided. I have in my procession two artifacts that I got
from the house in 1964. They are a hand bell and a potato masher.
One story from the early days on the
Hill was that seamstress women would walk 15 miles to Derry to pick
up shirt pieces (Derry was a textile centre) that they would sew
together into garments at home for cash. On day a McClean girl was
walking back from Derry with a heavy load of material when she saw an
apparition blocking her path. The girl noticed that the apparition
had nice shoes on while she had almost no footwear. She said: “you
have better shoes that I do I'll not get out of your way!” and
proceeded to walk through the apparition. When she did she heard the
apparition say she'd best take care because she would be attacked by
wild dogs (they roamed the country at the time). Sure enough the
next day she was attacked and was only saved when a farmer helped her
into his cart and beat off the dogs with horse whip.
The McCleans seemed to have musical
flair and it said that they could play a tune after hearing it only
once. They played the pipes and a number of other traditional
instruments. Mosey McClean was especially well thought. The story is
that he was drowned after jumping or being robbedépushed off the
Tower Bridge in London. His two sons also drowned in what appears to
be a suicide in Scotland some years later.
Apparently Mosey liked to drink and one
night on the way back from the pub in Raphoe he managed to capture a
“wee folk” who lived in the roots of a hawthorn tree. As is the
custom, Mosey was able to obtain a pocket full of gold in return for
freeing the creature. With pockets full gold he stumbled his way up
the road to his house and quickly passed out. Next morning just
before dawn he woke and remembered his good fortune from the night
before. Checking his pant pockets he found them empty but also
noticed that they had holes in them. He then rushed to the door just
in time to see a trail of gold back to the spot of the encounter.
They had fallen out of his pocket through the holes. What joy! he`d
be rich if only went back and picked them up. Unfortunately, the sun
rose several seconds later and as the sun struck these precious
metals they turned back into plain stone before his very eyes and his
hopes were dashed. Once again had the wee folk out foxed a man and
left him wanting!
Everyone on the Hill was staunch
Scot-Irish Protestants. Many of their descendants continue
involvement with the Orange and Black Orders to this day. Many were
involved in the UDA and other protestant para-military defensive
units. One of my Orange/UDA family members told me that he heard the
story about my father going to Holland to stop an IRA arms shipment.
In his version however, dad facilitated an arms shipment to the Irish
Protestant defence forces rather than stopping a shipment to the IRA.
It is said that the Scot-Irish are more
British than the British. You could certainly see the
“patriotism”/British connection everywhere. Lots Ulster and UK
flags, pictures of the Queen, etc. In some areas (including where
cousin Andrew lives) there are pro UK murals on walls etc. (photos in
separate entry). This pro British militaristic perspective is not a
new tradition in the Hetherington family. I suspect that this
connection to the Orange/Black Orders, militarism, and related world
view is multi-generational. For example, Andrew gave me a copy of a
1912 Covenant signed by many Hetherington's MacLean's Allan's,
Williards and Johnston's. Each signatory lived in Creggan Raphoe (or
environs). The documents title is: 2138 Sheet No 7; East Raphoe;
Donegal). I believe it was signed in a Presbyterian Church.
The Covenant is a 1912 declaration by
those who opposed to “home rule” (semi-independence from
Britain). The document declares the people of Ulster are “loyal
subjects... calls on crown to protect loyal subjects... defend
rights to be “equal citizens in UK... by using all means.... to
defeat home rule...
In other words a declaration of their
preparation readiness to fight the UK government if it moved toward
the independence of Ireland. In others fight the UK to stay in the
UK.
The document is also interesting
because the same hand signed for several relatives who subsequently
endorsed their signature with an x. Williams James signed for
Johnston Hetherington and perhaps Alex Allen. Absent, at least from
this page, is my grandfather's signature. Was he on the hill looking
after the farm? Away?
Within my generation Protestant
tradition continues with many people my age having been or are active
members of the Orange Order. Many are/were involved with protestant
para-military organizations. This military tradition (border
reveivers, Cromwell, Irish revolution, WWI, WWII, “the troubles”,
the Orange Order and the UDA) has had a strong influence on the
people baring the name of Hetherington since the 1500s.
Today, the most visible sign of the
troubles in Northern Ireland are in the posters and flags. British
stuff is everywhere and Republic murals etc. mark Catholic areas.
Republican murals are most common in Free Derry and the Falls Road
section of Belfast and Protestant and pro UK in the Shankhill area of
Belfast. I have attached copy of photos that I took of examples of
these murals. These murals remember the martyrs of both sides. Twice
a year the Orange and Black Orders to commemorate historic victories.
These marches can lead to open conflict between the two communities.
During the 1921 troubles my dad spoke
of a machine gun being placed in the belfry of St. Eunnan's in order
to control the diamond and his school building being used as a Black
and Tan barracks. As a result, he left school after 4 year or 5
years but eventually graduated as a mature student from New
Westminster Secondary School in 1973. This lack of formal education
did not mean that he was not self-educated. He was fairly well read
and a keen follower of world events.
During the 1921 troubles he was self
reportedly a messenger for the Black and Tans. He was captured by
the IRA and thrown against the wall to be shot. Fortunately, someone
with foresight had given him a rosary and made him learn the
appropriate prayer. At the prospect of being shot he brought it out
and started “Hail Mary.... “ Upon seeing this the IRA thought
they had made a mistake, that he was in fact a Catholic, and let him
go. A lesson in safety planning I guess?
Of course, my dad's role in WWII and on
going involvement in the Canadian military and prison system and my
generation’s involvement in Sea Cadets are other examples of the
tradition of service in uniform. Today religion still plays a role
and it can be poorly seen to marry out of one's community.
I want to thank everyone who attended
the fine party that Pauline Johnston offered us where many of these
stories were recounted. A special thanks David for showing us around
the hill, Tommy Johnston for sharing so much of his knowledge about
the family and his generosity at hosting the event. To Aunt Eileen
whose presence deeply moved me.
Winston and his family for their
hospitality, conversation and friendship. I trust that we will make
use of the email connections that we made during this short period.
The next family related stop was in
Newtownards were I met my cousins Molly and Lorna. Molly is an avid
traveller and spoke to us of her trips to southern Germany. Lorna
lives in a fine country home and has property. They took us for tea
and to my grandparents (and other relatives) grave site at
Whitechurch (Ards). It was great to see them both and learn of their
lives and families.
At 5pm, Lorna and Molly dropped us off
and we went to Andrew and Rita's for dinner. Andrew is recovering
from a cancer surgery and in spite of this he and Rita were generous
and welcoming hosts. Andrew had been a sailor and his usual run was
between Ireland and South Africa. He met his wife Rita on shore
leave. They subsequently married and had two boys. Andrew left the
sea to become a fire fighter in Belfast (Winston was also a
firefighter). During the troubles, as a firefighters, they would be
inside the no go zone of a bomb incident, waiting to clean up after
the blast while a robot attempted to defuse the bomb. The bombers
would typically give a 10 minute warning and tell people to clear the
area which in turn allowed sometime for the firefighters to arrive
and attempt to minimize death and damage. Truly a difficult job that
required courage.
Andrew showed me/us many documents,
photos and archival objects. Four objects were little toy potato gun
rifles that my father and his brother Johnston played with as
children, a tin box with two cigars and books of matches left by my
father in 1943 and a really cool Masonic digger that my father gave
to Andrew saying that it was taken from a died German. Why dad said
that a knife was taken from a a German unless incidentally the German
was also a Mason is not clear. As an aside the digger had a skull on
it as does the Masonic sash that I have from my father. Matt took
pictures of these objects and documents. Andrew also said he'd try
to forward electronic copies of some of these photos and papers, as
he could.
Thank you Andrew and Rita for the fine
time and meal that we shared.
Well I could go on and on about my
current understanding of family history. I invite any readers who
could add, edit or correct this tale to do so. On condition that
your comments be added to the blog and accessible to other readers.
Thursday, 30 August 2012
Planes Trains and Automobiles
My last day in Ireland and both my
first and last in London. I guess before any closing thoughts I'll
just tell you what we got up to today. We got up early as usual and
started driving towards Dublin airport to get to London with the
hotel's super helpful directions. We soon found ourselves lost and 40
minutes off schedule. Luckily we woke up early so we had time to
kill... just barely though. After dropping off Sally, (our rental
car) we ran through the airport as fast as we could, and made it with
10 minutes to spare. It was fun, never doing that again...
But we made it so I can't complain I
guess. The flight to London was short and uneventful and we made it
through security to London no problem. My dad being the prepared guy
that he is bought us train tickets online, so we took the train
straight into London. We of course took a famous black taxi to our
hotel where we dropped off our bags and went out again. I'm not in
London for long so I have to make the best of it.
Dad took me to St. Paul's Cathedral
where he and his dad had a talk when my dad was a boy. Trying to
maintain tradition and such. But that conversation is between me and
my dad. So I'll tell you about the rest of London instead, we only
walked around it, but it was still a grand time. We saw the London
eye, Big Ben, the Tower Bridge. The whole sh-bang.
I was unfortunately super tired after
waking up early and staying up late so many times. So I made dad head
back early. Like I said, tomorrow I return home. Which I'm honestly
super psyched for.
Before I leave you just some finishing
thoughts. Ireland is a place of amazing ancient beauty, both in
historical landmarks and natural beauty. If you ever had a desire to
go, please do so. Just make sure you have someone to plan it as well
as my dad did.
Ireland has really progressed from
where I'm told it was a few short years ago. It even has a green
initiative and pride parades. It really feels like home, so I'm glad
to have my citizenship. Like I said earlier I didn't sleep a lot last
night so I'm nodding off here. I have to make the flight home
tomorrow by waking up at 5... I'll try to talk dad into posting the
pictures while I'm gone.
So home is where the heart is. Now I
need to get home while my heart is still in Vancouver. Signing off
for the last time.
-Matt
Wednesday, 29 August 2012
Last of Ireland
Last full day in Ireland, tomorrow we
head off to London via the Dublin airport first thing in the morning.
We left our overpriced hotel in London and checked out the political
murals and peace wall. It was clear that although there has been a
peace signed the wounds of the past are still healing. When you take
a picture of yourself in front of something like those paintings its
hard to know whether or not to smile. I'm not sure how to show my
respect in that way.
After looking at the murals on both
sides we headed down to Newtownards to meet some more family.
Hetheringtons this time, so that's always nice. We were greeted at
our Hotel by Molly (the one who the guy in Raphoe dated) and Lorna,
who are my father's cousins. They graciously took us out for tea and
muffins. They seem like great folk but every once and a while you
could hear that we did not shared the same political views as each
other. Of course I was never one to be concerned with politics and
family is family after all.
They were also kind enough to take us
to see some more graves of the family. This time the graveyard had no
shortage of Hetheringtons. I'm not sure if that's heartening or
frightening to be honest. My dad seemed to really find this all
fascinating, so I put up with it for him. (Okay, it was kind of cool)
Molly and Lorna guided us back to our
hotel where we were met by another Hetherington. Her name was Rita,
she's my dad's cousins wife. She hopped in our car and guided us back
to her place for dinner and an exchange of family stories. When we
walked in the door, her husband Andrew Hetherington was waiting for
us. Andrew stayed at home as he was recovering from cancer. From what
I could tell he was doing really well, you would never be able to
tell.
Even I enjoyed the stories and pictures
of our family that they showed us before and after dinner. They had
everything from old pictures to a knife that my grandfather claimed
to have gotten off a dead German soldier, but in actual fact was a
Mason knife.
Unfortunately as the night progressed I
started to feel unwell (probably all these nights staying up late
blogging to you folks catching up with me :P). So we headed back a
little early and checked back into our hotel in Newtownards and began
to pack for the flight to London/home. In fact, I am doing that as I
blog to you now.
Alas, we're getting up early tomorrow
so I must be on my way. I had a blast in Ireland, I'm sure my short
time in London will be grand as well.
-Matt
Tuesday, 28 August 2012
She is the $$$ of Belfast city
Carnside Guest House was really a great
deal, very cheep, between the two main tourist attractions, a free
breakfast and on top of it all a beautiful view. What could be better
than that?
However we still decided to shuffle off
early so we could take the coastal road to Belfast. Really a stunning
view. Of course along the way dad and I had to stop by the very
famous Carrick-a-Rede Rope Bridge. Now somehow Dad and I managed to
walk passed the place where we pay for the dang thing (honestly and
accident) so we walked about 20 minutes to the bridge where we found
ourselves without tickets to cross the bridge. Luckily the man who
was checking let us through anyway.
The rope bridge really was cute and had
an amazing view, but for the price we would have paid for it,
definitely would have been a rip off. When it's free though, what an
incredible experience. :P When we left we left a sizeable donation
for being so generous.
From there on out we didn't stop for
any more sights all the way down to Belfast. Not that we needed to
with a view that amazing the whole drive. If you ever find yourself
with the choice of the scenic route or the direct route in Ireland
definitely take the scenic route. You'd be missing out on views you
wont be able to find anywhere else in the world.
Dad and I being who we are were of
course blasting music the whole drive down. But we had to turn it
down on our arrival to Belfast because we reached another labyrinth
of streets. Which I once again expertly navigated us through Belfast
to bring us to Park Inn, our very expensive hotel for the night.
For the price we're paying for this
hotel it should really be a lot better. It's more than double what we
payed for many of our B&B and hostels yet we get much less bang
for our buck. Maybe that's Belfast though. We have to pay extra for a
breakfast in the morning, which has been included in every hostel and
B&B so far. We have to pay for a parking lot that wasn't included
in the doubled price that's down the road. And the kicker, we have to
pay by the hour for wifi... Usually I don't complain about these
things but for double the price I feel those should be included if
not a little extra.
Intent on not letting this ruin Belfast
I was open to my dad's suggestion of doing a bus tour, which was
really fascinating. So I'm glad we did it. Easily worth the cost. The
bus took us all around Belfast showing us all of the murals and
architecture. Fun fact, Titanic was built here... Who knew? The bus
tickets are good for 48 hours and you can hop on and off as you see
fit. We might go down to check out the murals again tomorrow and take
advantage of our tickets.
I later let dad talk me into checking
out 2 pubs to soak up the city's ambiance. Guinness has a different
brew here in Ireland and you can really taste the difference.
Naturally, I'm taking advantage of having as much as I can before I
leave.
Before checking back into out hotel dad
and I went to a Mexican place called Boojum. So far it only exists in
Ireland, but it's bloody good. Irish-Mexican food, welcome to the
21st century I guess.
That about wraps up our time in
Belfast, luckily I got all this in on one hour of internet. So I only
have to pay 3 pounds for this little blog entry.
-Matt
Monday, 27 August 2012
Giants and whiskey
As it turned out we slept in my second
cousin's bed last night. I guess that's just the kind of thing you're
supposed to do for families though. We of course stayed and talked to
the Johnsons until 12, even though we woke up at 8 o'clock initially.
Very hospitable people.
After a very hardy breakfast and a
promise to stay connected we left the Winston's house with very clear
directions for how to get to the Bushmills distillery, “right down
the road for a bit, then make a left” Those are the directions to
everything in Ireland, regardless of whether it's on the left or
not...
However it's a big tourist attraction
so it was on every map, and every second street sign as we got close
to it. Gotta love Ireland, no clear signs until drinks are involved.
We made it to Bushmills relatively easily of course. Now for those of
you who don't know, Bushmills is an Irish whiskey which means it's
distilled 3 times instead of 2, and is spelt with an “e”,
whiskey. The tour was nice,
short and sweet, straight to the point. You got to see the real
factory at work. The Guinness tour was more well put together, but
this tour is definitely worth a the price of admission. Seeing the
real distillery instead of a replica was certainly a nice feature.
Of
course we got to try a free sample at the end. Bushmills has 5 main
bottles that you can buy all over the world at any time, however they
have 2 that are what you might call “limited edition”. One which
was made to celebrate their 400th
anniversary, it was made 4 years ago on a massive scale but when it
they run out would be done forever. The other which could only be
purchased at the distillery. Between the two of us we got a sample of
each just to we could feel like we took advantage of the limited
offer.
Carefully
deliberating which we liked more, my dad bought me a bottle to open
on the day I have my first kid. Which ideally is fairly far down the
road in my life, but a nice gesture.
Fortunately
enough the distillery is just down the road and to the left of our
B&B that we're staying in tonight. Carnside Guest House (our B&B)
is honestly just a stones throw away from Giant's Causeway. You see
it's funny because-- I'll get back to that soon, just remember this!
Giants
Causeway is a geological phenomenon on the north coast of Ireland. Do
to some volcanic activity many years ago the rocks in this cove have
formed to look like columns of rocks all stacked on top of each
other. Irish legend says that Finn McCool (a giant) used to throw
these stones across the water to Scotland, which you can see from the
causeway, in an attempt to build a bridge. (See, a stones throw away,
I'm so clever :P)
It's
really a great experience. You can go for free, if you don't use
their parking lot. Making the price right, however if you pay for
parking then you get to visit the giftshop after. Thrilling, I know.
However you also get a little blue box that looks like a cell phone.
I can only assume that it gives information on the causeway that I
wasn't privy to. It's truly a, as the locals would say, grand view.
Worth the short drive up regardless of if you pay for parking or not.
I'll
get some pictures of that up before I leave here, but I posted some
earlier today so I feel like I don't have to post more quite yet.
Best
of luck from our Northern-most sleeping location in Ireland.
-Matt
More pictures as promised
Blood and Mud
So dad absolutely hated the hostel, and
got me up early to leave... Needless to say I was super psyched about
that. But at least he let me stay and eat the free breakfast and meet
some fellow travellers from Spain and France.
The second I had my last bite we shot
out of there like a bat out of hell. Straight onto Raphoe, where my
family name comes from, and where my granddad grew up. Raphoe has a
Cathedral that dad and I walked around in the graveyard of until we
found a Hetherington gravestone. We snapped a picture of that, I'll
be uploading it shortly.
As we were leaving dad got talking to
someone working at the church. As it turns out, he dated my great
aunt back in the day... Raphoe is really a small town... Every time
we said our name was Hetherington somebody had a story about our
family. It was actually really fascinating learning about my family
history in that way.
After talking to a few of the locals
dad and I went off to find the place where my grandfather (Robert
John McClean Hetherington) grew up. My dad had some instructions to
tell us how to get there, but it's up an unmarked road that Google
maps of course doesn't exactly streetview. So it was an adventure
just to find the road.
Of course when while we were driving up
we passed another car and my dad asked for directions for how to get
to the old Hetherington house. They gave us the very helpful advise
of “you'll never be able to find it yourself”. But they knew
where a relative of ours lived and took us back down the road to meet
David Johnson, who was in the middle of some housework by the looks
of it. But when my dad asked him for better instructions to find the
dang house, he got in his tractor and told us to follow him.
As we drove up the increasingly more
muddy road, we figured out that David was my dad's cousin. And
therefor my... Something... point is he's related. We pulled up at
the end of the road (seems to be a theme for this trip) and David
told us we had to walk from there, so we did.
If I had known we would be walking
through the mud and grass I would have brought boots. I only had my
runners, which usually worked fine right up until I stepped into a
huge puddle. Which happened a few times, but I managed.
After passing through fields of heather
and hoping fences. We finally got there. It was now just a big pile
of rubble. You see, a few years back the farm went for sale and no
one in the family bought it. But whoever did buy it bulldozed the old
house into a pile and planted a huge forest of trees. It wasn't a let
down though, I'm glad to have been there.
On the way back apparently word of our
arrival had spread and we were greeted by David's dad Thomas Johnson
at the car. (I guess that makes him my dad's uncle) They took us to
see my granddad’s old school, which is still in use by the way. But
the reunion doesn't end there, we drove up to Pauline Johnson's
house, where aunts, uncles, grand aunts and uncles, cousins and first
cousins once removed that we had never heard of were waiting to meet
us. It was grand. My dad played old recordings that his dad had in
archive, I was given a feast to eat... All good things.
I really found that I had a lot in
common with everyone, which isn't that surprising I guess. But it
sure did make the experience more fun. In fact we talked so long that
it became dark before dad and I realized we didn't have a place to
stay since we left the hostel. Of course my dad's cousin Winstin
Johson promptly offered to let us sleep at his house.
Let me tell you this, it is
particularly hard to decline Irish hospitality. So we drove to his
house and hung out with his family. I met some more second cousins
that were close to my age, and we did what all good Irishmen do. We
drank.
Quickly 8 o'clock became 12 o'clock.
Which usually is fine but if you remember my saying earlier, my sleep
was cut short the night earlier. I stayed up as late as I could at my
cousin's house but then I had to clock out. Meaning I didn't have the
chance to write to you until just now. Nor post any pictures.
So if you're reading this and you cant
see any pictures then they are currently being uploaded.
Having a grand old time with my newly
found extended family.
-Matt
Saturday, 25 August 2012
LegenDerry
Dad and I seem to be getting this whole
“roadtrip” thing down. Moving from one location to another is
starting to feel really natural. Not that there was anything
particularly gripping about Malinbeg. So we left the edge of the
world and headed out towards Derry, or Londonderry as it's called on
this side of the border.
But on our way over we headed over to
an old Castle with an amazing history. Glenveagh Castle was
originally made as a hunting estate in the middle of nowhere.
However, since then it's seen sieges, evictions, murder mysteries,
and visits from all kinds of celebrities over the years. It's now a
National Park with beautiful gardens that take statues and plants
from all over the world to make it a very impressive display. The
plan is to upload a lot of photos from our whole trip tomorrow so
keep your eyes open for it.
After visiting Glenveagh Castle dad and
I expertly navigated the streets of Ireland to Derry. (We got lost
like 3 times... All because dad wouldn't listen to my directions.
(Okay, so it was my fault once too)).
Arriving in Derry you can quickly feel
the change from the republic of Ireland, to the U.K. controlled
northern Ireland. They use pounds here for goodness sake. All over
the wall there are murals saying “Free Derry” and many
remembering the tragic events of Bloody Sunday.
We quickly checked into our very
overpriced hostel. Which my dad wasn't too pleased of. In fact he
wants to find a different place to stay tomorrow... Regardless of
where we stay, it seems to be a modern town that has change a lot
over the last 40 years.
For those of you who don't know, Derry
is famous for being a walled city. Now from what I understand a long
time ago (not sure what year exactly) the English came through Derry
and demolished it. Then they thought that it would be a good place to
settle... for some reason... So they moved people from London over to
settle it, hence Londonderry. To defend the city they built huge
walls around it, which took 5 years total. However they came in handy
when the french tried and failed to siege the walls 6 times. In fact,
these walls have never been breached, thereby giving the city the old
fashioned name of “The Maiden City”.
If you ever plan on coming to Derry
yourself I'm sure you'll be told to be careful about protestant vs
catholic ideals, and although that history is far from lost. It's
just that, history. It seems to me that the people of Derry have kept
their faith but lost their hatred. Which a good sign towards
development in any nation.
I started writing this entry watching
the sun set on the walls of Derry, and now I'm ending it in the
warmth of my expensive hostel.
Tomorrow dad and I have a lot planned,
so hopefully it'll be a very full blogentry. But you'll also
hopefully get the overload of pictures.
Goodbye from the U.K.
-Matt
End of the bloody road
Sorry to all our adoring readers, we
got no wifi last night, so I didn't have the chance to update you
all. Not to fear, I'm writing it day of still, so I can write if we
hit a cafe with free wifi tomorrow.
If I told you that Sligo had nothing to
do let me tell you now, I had no idea what I was talking about. Sligo
at least had a bar or two. Here at Malinbeg there is literally
nothing to do but look at sheep pass by my window...
But before I get back to that, let me
touch on what we did today. Dad and I had to ask directions just to
leave Sligo. It's really a confusing town... Once we made it to the
highway dad and I blasted some tunes... Bonding I think. We made a
quick stop for tea and coffee in a little village called Kellybegs.
The whole town was as my dad would say “festoon” with green and
yellow. Apparently Donegal would be playing Cork in a football match.
However, when they said football they of course meant a mixture of
Gaelic and Australian Rugby... Sounds safe, I know.
At our second stop we actually managed
to make it to a tourist sight, something called Slieve League. The
are the tallest cliffs in all of Europe, and they fall straight off
into the ocean. You can do a long beautifully stunning hike up and
across the whole ridge if you are more prepared than my dad and me.
We just hiked long enough to be able to see the Ocean on the horizon,
that we couldn't see anything else at see. The view is really
beautiful all along the cliffs, dad and I sat and looked down at the
water with some German students named Marvin and Lillith. Slieve
League is definitely a sight worth seeing if you get the chance. They
are almost the western most point of Europe... Almost...
If that honour goes to any inhabited
place it's Malinbeg, where we are now. It's not quite the end of the
world, but you can see it from here. There are sheep roaming free
usually blocking the road, which is pretty cute actually. In
addition, whole village smells like peat, and you can see it in the
flowing brown streams all over the village. Oh, and the taps are a
nice healthy yellowy-brown colour. Think beer colour. Leave it to
Ireland right?
There is actually a very nice little
beach here if you don't mind going up and down something like 200
stairs to get there. Of course it has little streams of pete colour
water going into the ocean, so if you don't mind that, it's a very
scenic beach.
For all of you who are curious whats on
the farthest island off the coast of Ireland, so on the edge of the
European world... It's a lighthouse. I don't know how to get there,
but if I figure it out tomorrow I'll let you know.
That about sums up our day... Not super
busy, but we're on vacation so that's fine.
I'll post this tomorrow hopefully. So
you can all finally get off the edge of your seat from my last post.
Just watched the sun set on the water for me. I guess that means it
more or less just rose for you.
So good morning Vancouver, talk to you
tomorrow.
-Matt
(we just got 20 minutes of wifi at a local starbucks)
Thursday, 23 August 2012
3 More Counties Bite the Dust
Today has been such a relaxing day I
can hardly believe it. I might even get to bed before too long if I
keep the blog post short.
We left Wits End with a hardy Irish
breakfast which was served by our very kind hostess. For those of you
who don't know, an Irish breakfast essentially consists of meat and
not much else. I really had to go and work out for a bit before we
got back in the car because I felt so bloated. Don't get me wrong,
the food was delicious, just made me feel like I couldn't spend the
rest of the day in the car.
Today we mapped out our route to the
next location, a little B&B called An Crusien Lan (it has like 3
weird accents too). We realized when we marked out our root that we'd
be going through 3 different counties, Galway, Mayo, and now of
course Sligo.
Although it was a long drive with
plenty of unhelpful signs, it was a fairly straight shot to Sligo.
But for me personally it was hard not to feel homesick passing
through county Mayo for obvious reasons. I'll give you a hint if you
haven't caught on already, it's not because of the Gaelic I see
everywhere.
When we finally made it through all
three counties we made it to the town of Sligo. Just a wee little
town. But let me say again, the roads and maps here make no sense in
relation to the other. We probably drove around for a half an hour
before we found our accommodations, and then drove to 3 different
parking lots before we figured out where we could park easily.
Despite this setting us back by an hour, our host still didn't show
up until 3 hours later. Mind you, we said we'd show up before 6, but
who's keeping track of these things here? On the plus side, it gave
us a chance to find a laundromat and do what was becoming much needed
laundry for the two of us.
Sligo is a nice little town with a
Yeats museum as a free tourist attraction. There was a reason it's
free.
Nothing was particularly memorable
there. They had stuff like his William's pipe, and some letters
written by the two of them (2 Yeats by the way(father and son)). It
was a cute little two rooms, but nothing to come in to see. It takes
you 15 minutes if you really take your time.
Dad and I decided we didn't need to
spend another night drinking so we looked for anything really
interesting to do in Sligo. We actually found a local teen production
of Westside Story, but it was all sold out. I guess the whole town
had nothing to do as well. Eventually we just decided to head to the
local cinema, checked out TED. Turns out they have all the same
movies playing here as at home.
I won't give you a full review of TED,
that's not why you're reading this blog. I'll just say it was cute,
dad and I actually really enjoyed not having an Irish night, and just
feeling like we were back home. Maybe that was just me who felt like
that though.
After the movie, we headed home for an
early night. So we came back to the B&B and I sat down to write
this blog... That's basically it, I've brought you up to speed...
We'll be going farther north tomorrow.
I don't know how much longer we'll have wifi up there. But I'll keep
typing entries into documents and save them till I can post them.
Don't fear, I wont have forgotten about you back home.
Going to try to take advantage of this
early night and get some extra sleep.
Goodnight Vancouver... Or afternoon, I
guess... Regardless, I'm going to go to sleep now.
-Matt
Roundstone-Sligo
August 23: Travel Roundstone to Sligo.
Today has been wet. We awoke to pouring rain and stayed with us most
of the day, although it lessened to showers by evening. Felt like
Vancouver! The drive was fun once we got onto a main road (much more
room). We have not been reading our Ireland story telling book as
there is always something else to do. Matt and are however having a
great time listening to some of the rock and roll on my ipod and
singing along. Sort of a musical legacy of my music taste. Stopped
for coffee at Westport and when we got Sligo it took a while to find
our B&B (An Cruisein Lan )(which was closed until 6) so we walked
around in the rain killing time. We managed to take our clothes to a
laundry. We also tried to get tix for a local production of Westside
Story but it was sold out. Instead we went out for Chinese food
(looking for vegies) and then went to see a cute little film called
TED.
Sligo does not strike me as a fun and
happening place but my opinion may be coloured by the rain, trouble
parking and the lack of a funky tourist quarter. I know this sounds
like we had a terrible day but all in all Matt and I had fun
exploring and things turned out well in the end. It was good to have
a little down time.
Tomorrow we plan to go to the west
coast of Donegal and walk along some cliffs over looking the sea and
they are predicting rain for the forseeable future,
grrrr................ We will be in Derry the day after tomorrow and
will make our way to Raphoe and the old family homestead from there.
-Tom
Wednesday, 22 August 2012
I like the driving, hate the road
So my day worked out pretty well I'd
say. We woke up and walked around in Galway. It's beautiful
multicultural little town, but there is nothing to fricken do there.
So we chose to leave a little early, really not a bad call.
Since I was in charge of the plan today
I got to pick where we were staying. Our choices were another hostel
or little B&B in Grafton, the next big town after Galway. Or we
could stay at in a little place Called Wits End in a little town
called Roundstone. For some reason, I chose there and we couldn't be
happier. But before I get to that, let me rant about the roads here
in Ireland.
I don't know which jerk designed the
roads around here, but they make no sense. Dad kept almost driving
off the side of the extremely narrow roads just to avoid oncoming
traffic. As if that wasn't hard enough... The Maps... Alright, let me
break her down for ya. The don't have all the roads, the roads they
do have aren't necessarily labelled correctly or at all, and they are
very often not to scale. But even if the road was wide the maps made
sense, the street signs still wouldn't always be there to tell you
when to turn. Or if you're very lucky, the locals would have spray
painted over the English part of the sign, leaving only the Gaelic.
Now I know what you're thinking, “Matt, why not just ask the
locals?” Well I would, and have. Big mistake. All of them seem to
know where you're going, but none of them can seem to agree on how to
get there. Plus, they always give you a length of time that is about
half the actual travel time if they're overestimating it. The only
thing they can all agree on is don't trust the map. If that all
wasn't hard enough, the rain. Oh, it puts us to shame back home...
How did my dad so poetically put it? “You know my boy. When it
rains around here, it sure doesn't f**k around.” My dad, always the
poet.
But now onto better things. Once we got
through the Irish hell known as driving we made it to Roundstone
somehow. Wits End is a lovely B&B that overlooks Bertraghboy Bay,
giving us a beautiful view on the third floor of the house. It is a
small town, so we ended up driving down to visit Graftden in the end.
There wasn't an awful lot there either. Just a bunch of stores and
churches. Still was a great little place to walk around for a few
hours, but I wouldn't recommend you stay too long, all the buildings
take away from the locations natural oceanside beauty.
Our very kind and very talkative
hostess told us that if we made in back to Roundstone before 8:30 we
had to check out the big weekly event of the local Tuesday music
Festival. We had nothing better to do, so why not?
As it turns out, it was actually a
great little performance. With all the local traditional Irish
performers it was hard not to enjoy it. By all the performers I mean
everyone from young boys who just stamped their feet on the ground
and called it dancing, to a teenagers doing very quick and impressive
Irish dancing, to elderly folks dancing and singing to the best of
their abilities.
Roundstone is really a lovely little
town. But it's a long way from our next destination and it's getting
late. So I best be heading off. I believe dad and I are heading to
Slago or something tomorrow... All I know is that it's in the County
Mayo so I will be feeling homesick more than usual tomorrow.
I'll let you know where the heck we end
up tomorrow when I can, assuming we end up somewhere with wifi.
-Matt
Galway-Roundstone
August 22, Galway to
Clifden/Roundstone: Left Kinlay Hostel this am. It was a basic but
OK place however it was quite expensive for what it was. The upside
was its younger atmosphere. After checking out we walked around
Galway taking pictures etc. Matt got a nice movie of a busking group
that he will post on the blog. Galway is a real musical town with
lots of singing pubs, music in the streets etc.
Matt suggested a BB in Roundstone
called the Wits End which we booked. The trip to Roundstone took us
thru Conamara which is a pretty wild and tree less place (it was
deforested to make ships and is has a certain stark beauty. We
stopped at several places to take pictures and/or picnic. The back
roads are a little scarey especially as I don't know the car. They
are really 1 1/2 lanes wide, have plenty of blind cur. ves and
frequently there isn't any center lines. If there are center lines
frequently there is not enough room for the car between the line and
the side of the road. The result being that either risk hitting on
coming traffic or end up drifting into the roadside hedges etc. What
usually happens therefore is that everytime there is on coming
traffic you slow down and hug the shoulder and hope for the best.
The B&B at Roundstone is really
nice. A basic room over looking the ocean on the main street. It is
not a busy place and I doubt that I have seen a car drive by in the
entire time I have been writing this blog entry. After checking into
the B&B we followed a coastal road to Clifden. Great views etc.,
scarey road. Hung around Clifden for a while and headed back to
Roundstone for dinner. Ended up having a wrap. At 830 there was an
“Irish nite” at the local community center that Matt and I
attended. Lots of local people, music and Irish dancing. It was nice
to see a wide range of people in the audience and to see Irish
culture being shared across generations.
It is now 11 pm and I have to sleep.
G'nite, Tom
A few Picture's off of Matt's camera. More to come with Tom's
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