Exploring the country was a thrill and yes there’s no place like home
YOU’RE probably sick of my ramblings by now, but hold strong, I’ve much to report from two recent trips. Being the generous guy I am I thought I’d put myself in the firing line and join the masses by taking not one, but two staycations over recent weeks.
The car was packed with enough provisions for a trip up Everest and The Whirlwind Wonder, The Little Fella and I set off for our glorious escape. About half a kilometre from home, the youngest, feigning a yawn, asked: Are we in Kerry yet?’ It was not the only time the question was asked on the four hour journey!
Arriving back to my father, who I hadn’t seen since the weekend before the nation went into lockdown, was a special moment. His face, a bit more drawn than I remembered, but still sporting those smiling eyes and strong handshake, greeted us and so began the end of his peace of mind as we took over the house for the following nine days.
We should have been half away across the Atlantic at that moment, but a combination of a pandemic and a dangerously stupid US President got in the way of that much longed for journey. So it was that we became ensconced in the wonders of Tralee and the beaches of that wonderful part of Kerry.
Surfing was enjoyed, along with walks in the rose decorated and scented town park in Tralee (what a magically lilting, sing-song name for a town), as each sight sparked a memory of times past and friends of old.
We set off for south Kerry after two days and after a stomach churning, zigzag ascent up Moll’s Gap we arrived in Kenmare, an oasis of fine dining and classy hotels. Five ‘are we there yets’ later we arrived at our hotel in Sneem, a place I had passed last year during the Ring of Kerry cycle and wished I could have stopped at for a week on that occasion.
The hotel was ideal: not too big, safe for everyone, including the children who revelled in the freedom of being able to come and go to our room without any trouble.
The Old Man was with us and enjoyed the peace of his own room and the chance to get away from the confines of his house for a few nights.
For all of the talk of Americans, I only heard two American accents from girls sporting Tom Brady jerseys, during our break.
The roads were relatively quiet as tour buses were nowhere to be seen. The stunning beaches attracted big crowds on hot days, but the feeling I got was akin to that of childhood summers: picnics, ice creams, bar food.
Having visited with friends and relations on our way back to Tralee and stopped at some more amazing beaches, we settled back into our less glamorous surrounds.
As the weather changed for the worse we enjoyed a swim at the local pool and a trip to the cinema, but play dates kept everyone on an even keel.
Having returned to Wexford, the children went to stay with cousins for ten days and I got a chance to recover, before travelling north to Fermanagh; a county as obscure as legend to me.
It’s mountains and amazing walk at Cuilcagh Boardwalk Trail were enjoyed with a friend, along with the hospitality of the locals, who seemed to say wee as if it was a word listed to be banned under some new cross-border deal.
An amazing son of Ireland, John Hume was eulogised on the radio on our trip back. What a wonderful world we inhabit!