We are mostly recovered from jet lag. I awoke at 5am, close to my normal waking time at home. But after being awake for an hour I fell back to sleep 'til 8. Finally roused myself and walked over to the 'Big House' for coffee. Just John & I awake at this ungodly hour. Happily, John had brought a pound of Starbucks french roast along with him and the house had a french press - we would have good coffee for several days. John and I had the first batch long before anyone else stirred.
Most didn't get up until 10 or later. Betty was still asleep at 11 so we went over and held a mirror under her nose to see if she was breathing. She was, so we rudely shook her into counsciousness. Then forced her to drink strong coffee and she was as good as new. By then even the children were up and about and had their first food.
Now, all alive and collected, we took two cars, seven in John & Sheila's
mini-SUV and five in the smaller car, Just Patrick at the wheel, and drove to
Portmagee over the narrow mountain roads for a late lunch at the Bridge Bar.
We frightened off two diners who chugged their beers so we could squeeze the 12 of us together in the crowded pub. Most of us had chowder. Theresa whined because there was no seafood in it. Then the waitress took it from her and gave it to Betty - who had ordered the vegetable soup and gave Theresa a bowl that had seafood within. Betty was happy. Theresa was happy. (The following picture may have been taken before all were happy, with Theresa glaring accusingly at Betty.)
Soon the bar filled with Gaelic football fans to watch the Donegal vs Armaugh match. An exuberant crowd with several guys in kilts. As we were leaving, Patty posed - unhappily, as seen below - with the football fans. What a trooper.
Meanwhile, Betty was cruising the streets of Portmagee and discovered that at least some of the kilted guys wear nothing underneath - she was walking behind one kilted fellow when a car honked at him. He responded by flipping the back of his kilt up to reveal his bare bum. Betty kept her eyes peeled for the rest of the trip for kilted men to honk at but we never got another chance to confirm if this was a well-known protocol.
After lunch, we drove across the short bridge from Portmagee to hike Bray Head on Valencia Island. It was a long, pleasant uphill hike - along the way you were forced to climb over a fence guarded by a horse and a shetland pony. Sheila, Molly and Sarah challenged the fierce beasts. (I was not so bold, having had terrifying experiences with the dreaded shetland ponies while a child.)
We al continued up to the top of Bray Head for a spectacular view of the Skellig Islands (our destination the next day) from amidst a modest ruins. Kate, Joe and Theresa mill about near the point.
Happily fatigued, we hiked back down and stopped in Portmagee again to use the
runnerup in the 2002 tidy toilets award. (We'd be here several more times during
the coming week.)
Our little caravan drove back to Ballenskellig for supper but the O'Leary pub
(at the Ballenskellig Inn) was too crowded so we drove to over to Waterville
(about 20 minutes down the road) for supper. We again squeezed in and created
a table for twelve in the anteroom of a pub named O'Dwyer's :The Villa.
We placed our (by now) usual order of 5 pints and 2 glasses of Guinness, 5 cokes.
We ordered mostly fish (plaice) & chips all around. And ate while people-watching - especially a young man sitting quite sound asleep on a bar stool under the TV.
Then back home to Ballenskellig. The older set strolled over to Rosie's Pub for one Guinness and then off to bed - soon as sound asleep as the reveler shown above.