Ireland 2010
  
 

Day 05

June 14

  
   
 

I know this is going to be an interesting day, but little do I realize just how interesting. We've got to get to the Kerry Airport so we can fly to Dublin and get Sharyn on a flight back to the States. I gingerly wake Sharyn up and help her get ready since Denis will be here at 5 AM. There's no time for breakfast, so we gather things up and go downstairs to wait. Denis is right on the money, and I help Sharyn into the back seat and climb into the front passenger seat. I tell Denis -

"Thanks for coming so early. You've been a real lifesaver for us. Especially getting us to and from the hospital the other night."

"No problem. We should get you to the Kerry airport without a problem."

He knows the back roads and knows them well, so we make really good time. We talk about my return trip and he tells me -

"Just call me just before you get on the plane in Dublin. The time it takes you to fly back is about the time it will take to drive here. We'll be waiting out front to pick you up."

"Great. I reckon I'll see this evening then."

I help Sharyn out of the back seat and we go inside. We are flying on Ryan Air this morning and someone finally shows up to check us in. I find out that because I didn't print our boarding passes when I bought the ticket, there is a 40 Euro charge for each of our fares. Of course I had no way to do that since I didn't have access to printer, but that's life. At least they did it for me on my return flight which saves another 40 Euros. Soon boarding is called and we get on a Boeing 737 headed for Dublin.

 
   
  As I look around, I see why they are so cheap to fly. The seats don't recline, there are no barf bags, no seat pockets and there is a charge for everything. I figure if the oxygen masks were to drop down, there would be coin slot on them. But the plane appears to be in good shape and we have a constant stream of airline personnel hawking wares to sell - from smokeless cigarettes to bag lunches - all for our 'entertainment'. This outfit makes Southwest Airlines look like a luxury carrier in comparison.  
   
  And of course, their gates are at least 20 miles from the main terminal. When Sharyn and I finally arrive at the American Airlines check in area, it looks like a train wreck. They've got the 'cattle herding' ropes up but it's hard to tell just where you are supposed to go. It looks like there's at least a thousand people in front of us before we can get Sharyn's boarding pass.  
   
 

I finally see a man with a pulse that is wearing an American Airlines blazer. I ask him -

"Sir, my wife has been injured and I was wondering if there is anyway you could help us get her boarding pass. She already has her ticket so I just need to get her checked in."

I assume that anyone with one eye and roadwalking sense would see that Sharyn was not in too good a shape and needs a wheelchair - her arm in an immobilizing sling, her x-rays under my arm, pale as a ghost, and in a house dress (the only thing she could get on with her injury). But I assume wrong, as Mr. Personality force marches us at almost a dead trot to the counter. At least we are there, but then it only gets stranger. I explain to the person there as best I can that my wife has been injured and show her the x-rays, explaining that we just need a boarding pass for her. The woman (the nicest thing I can call her) at the counter takes one look at Sharyn and says rudely -

"I don't think you can fly. Just stand over there" and points to an area off to the side. There are no chairs and none offered and I am quietly contemplating just how bad the Irish prison will be after I climb across the counter and throttle this heifer. The longer I stand the more aggravated I become and am about ready to reach behind the counter to get a chair for Sharyn. But before I can act, Sharyn passes out in the middle of the floor - a combination of low blood sugar and stress. She is not a fainter and I have never known her to faint, but she is dead out in a crumpled pile on the terminal floor. All of sudden, three American Airlines 'suits' show up, a wheel chair mysteriously appears, a medical person appears and the circus begins. I am more than a little upset now as I help Sharyn into the wheelchair. Then I stick my long finger in the face of one of the suits and tell him -

'I really don't understand why we are being treated like this. I explained this situation to that woman over there" pointing in the direction of Attilla the Hunness.

He knows that I am one unhappy camper and I stand about two heads taller than him, so he figures he might be in trouble. The apologies start flowing but I'm not really interested.

"Just get her a boarding pass so I can get her on the plane." I tell him.

Quickly, one of the suits scurries off with our paperwork in hand and they assure me that they will take care of it.

"I'm going to take her upstairs and get her something to eat. Then we'll be back" I tell them.

I can pretty much deal with whatever crude is heaped on me, But when folks start messing with my sweet, lovely wife I tend to get really rednecked really quick. I start pushing Sharyn through the crowd and folks figure out that they would be real wise to get out of our way. The restaurant is upstairs, so fortunately we get to the elevator without any casualties and get some grub. As we are eating, I tell Sharyn -

"Well, babe, you should have just fainted sooner so we could get some service!"

We both laugh and just shake our heads. The food's not bad for airport food but she is not feeling well, so she doesn't eat much. But at least she gets some nourishment before we have to go back and do battle. We descend back into the maelstrom only to be greeted by yet another American Airlines suit. This one wants to debate whether or not Sharyn is able to fly - after they have already issued a boarding pass to her.

"Didn't you get a release from the doctor?" he asks.

Once again I contemplate how nice an Irish prison will be if I throttle this feller. Maybe I can get a special two-for-one rate. I just look at him and say -

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not from around here. We were in a small local hospital and I just figured if the doctor said it was okay, it would be okay."

He can tell by the look in my eyes that his shelf life could be really short if he presses the topic with me, so he decides that yes indeedy she can fly. Then he notices that she has her motorcycle helmet with her.

"Oh, you can't fly with that helmet on board. It is against airline safety regulations" he tells me.

"Do what?" I tell him. "We flew from Nashville to Houston to Heathrow with our helmets in hand. Then this morning we flew from Kerry to Dublin with this helmet in hand."

"Well, I'm sorry but it's a regulation."

I'm thinking of other adjectives besides sorry when I look at him.

"Well, I'll just throw it in a rubbish bin. Just get her on the plane!" as I raise my volume.

He decides that would be a really good idea as this point since he sees the fire in my eyes.

Since I am flying out the other end of the airport on a different flight, I cannot get through security to push Sharyn to the gate. You would think by now, American Airlines would at least offer to do that. But oh no, we have to hunt down an airport agency to get someone to do it. Finally with that sorted out, I kiss Sharyn good-bye and she says to me in a wavering voice -

"Can you get me a little leprechaun?"

"You bet sweetheart. I'll take care of it" I tell her as I try to keep it together. Letting her go on that plane by herself in her condition is one of the hardest things I have ever done. But that is what she wants and I know the Lord will sort it all out for the best. I take her helmet with me and head for the security check for my gate. I had picked up a bottle of water at breakfast, but they make me toss it in the rubbish bin - but never say a word about the helmet. Just as I get through the check point, I notice a store that I can buy another water if I like - exactly the one I just threw away. As I slowly try to sort out where I need to be, a policeman comes up and ask him -

"Which way are the gates to Ryan Air?"

He gives me good directions and I start the long march. When get near, I see a SAS airline person, and ask if she could tell me anything about my flight on Ryan Air. I get a haughty look and a stare and a 'No'. I wish I could say that everyone was helpful, but this women is like most of the airline people in this airport - rude, crude, and totally socially unacceptable. I find a pay-as-you-go Internet terminal and log on to get my landing time. With that in hand, I call Denis and his lovely wife, Marg picks up. I give her the information and she says

"I'll be there. See you soon."

With the logistics settled for now, I find a quiet spot behind the gate and sit down. Tears come to my eyes as my heart is broken because of how things have turned out . But somewhere in the midst of it, it will all work out. I pray that the Lord would ease Sharyn's passage back to Nashville and keep her safe until I am back at the Holler.

  
   
 

Then a window washer comes by with a neat spray and go gadget and I come out of my reverie. It's got a sprayer built into a backpack so he's got everything he needs with him.

"Neat gadget you've got there" I tell him.

"Yes, it works quite well and makes this a lot easier."

Finally someone shows up a the gate, and we begin boarding. And once again I board another flight with a motorcycle helmet in hand and no one says a word. I bid a very happy adieu to the Dublin Insane Asylum run by the inmates that is carefully disguised as an airport.

  
   
 

When I land in Kerry, Marg is right there and waiting. It is so nice when folks do what they say they're going to do and pleasantly do it. We have a delightful conversation on the long ride back to Kenmare. When she drops me off at the B&B she says -

"Let us know how your missus gets along, now."

"I will, Miss Marg. And thank you and Denis for being such a blessing to us in this difficult time."

Now I have to decide just what it is that I am going to do with myself. We were originally going to head up to Northern Ireland to see the Giant's Causeway tomorrow so I am only booked here for tonight. My ferry back to the UK is not until Wednesday so I could just wander across Ireland tomorrow and put in somewhere near the ferry. But on the other hand, since it doesn't get dark until almost 10 PM, I could ride the Ring of Kerry now, ride the Dingle Peninsula tomorrow, stay here tomorrow night, then make a mad dash across Ireland to catch the ferry. If I do that, I will have ridden all that I intended to ride while I was here. Or I could just sit here and feel sorry for myself and Sharyn, but that just ain't the way I'm wired. I figure better to die in action than die from lack of action, so I go downstairs and peck on Miss Noreen's door. When she comes, I ask her -

"Miss Noreen, I was just thinking that if my room is open tomorrow night, I would just stay on here, then get up early Wednesday and head for the ferry. I don't want to put you out, but I thought I would ask."

She assures me that it will be fine and we get it all sorted out. Since she does not accept credit cards, I know I will need to hit a 'hole in the wall' and get some more cash. With the makings of a plan, I suit up and head into town. There's a ATM on the corner, so I avail myself of it's dispensing abilities.

 
   
  With that taken care of and some daylight left, I strike out for the Ring of Kerry, hoping that the ride will clear my mind a bit. This is the area that most of the tourist rags wax eloquent about and most of the tour busses visit. In fact, it gets so busy, that the government requires the tour busses to travel the Ring counterclockwise. So I figure I'll head in the opposite direction so I shouldn't get stuck behind them. Some of the roads are not quite wide enough for them and me but fortunately I don't meet one on this little bit of asphalt.  
   
  N70 from Kenmare to Sneem is a lovely little run along the Kenmare Bay that opens into the Atlantic. It feels good to have the road to myself and just put the events of the day at a distance as I enjoy the gentle sweepers.  
   
  Sneem is know as the 'Knot in the Ring of Kerry' since Sneem means 'knot'. Like so many villages on the Ring, it is filled with touristy sort of stuff. But I'm not fancying to be around people right now since I've had plenty of that earlier in the day.  
   
  I enjoy the deserted highlands as I climb away from Sneem.  
   
 

The windswept peacefulness out here far from the tourist crowds is a much needed tonic after the events of the past few days. As I sometimes say,

'The more I'm around people, the better I like my dog!"

and today has certainly reinforced that conclusion.

  
   
  Since it is late in the evening but still daylight, I can enjoy an occasional pull off all to myself. Most tourists are already back in the safety of their insulated, sterile environment by now.  
   
  I can only imagine how fierce the winter blasts must be coming off the ocean into the valley below.  
   
  But there is a serene beauty to Ballinskelligs Bay as it lays quiet, like old dog sunning himself in the evening sun.  
   
  I pass through Waterville, another neatly kept village on N70. I am a bit disappointed as I was expecting to seem some thatched huts and such but I guess progress has taken sad care of that sort of thing.  
   
  Once again, Mr. ZUMO displays his fond preference for routing me down pigpaths and single tracks. But at least at this point it is paved.  
   
  The old ruins at the water's edge could certainly tell me some tales if only I understood it's language. The builders built it of stone so it would last a long time but the downfall was the roof. It's the attention we never pay to the little stuff that usually destroys buildings and people slowly over time.  
   
  The harbor at Ballinskelligs is filled with working boats, not the sort that would be a comfy ride for a tourist.  
   
  I am very happy at the message on this sign. The fact that none of those monster coaches are allowed on the single track Skellig Ring works for me. Which also means there should not be very many people either.  
   
  I find a lonely single track that seems to disappear into the hills which suits my restless spirit just fine.  
   
  It eventually drops down into a little village but I decide I'd better head back since daylight is slowly slipping away and I have miles to go before I sleep.  
   
  On my way up, I passed a place that says 'Best View Of The Skelligs'. I figure I might as well see what that is about. They have a small charge for parking as the view is a good trot up the hill. Obviously Bessie and her friends have never seen such a distinguished feller as me come walking by.  
   
  At the end of the walk, I am rewarded for my efforts for an uninterrupted view of the Skelligs. The Great Skellig was the home to a sixth-century Christian monastery and there is an air of mystery about both of the islands.  
   
  From my high perch, I can see endless procession of waves throwing themselves against the timeless craggy cliffs.  
   
  I make the walk back and soon point the VFR toward PortMagee.  
   
  At PortMagee, I cross the bridge onto Valentia Island where the Skellig Experience is located. They take you out to explore the islands but at this late hour have already closed up shop. At the end of the island, there's a short ferry ride across from Knightstown to Renard where I rejoin the Ring of Kerry again.  
   
  I slip quietly through the deserted streets of Cahersiveen. I can only imagine at peaks times just how narrow this street can get with buses on it.  
   
  It's nice to be back out in the open and just let the beauty of the countryside slide by my mobile viewing station.  
   
  But every now and then I am captivated by a view that I just have to pull over and admire. The mingling of the blues of sky and water assaulted by the lush greens reminds me that blue and green must be God's favorite colors since He abundantly uses them in His Creation.  
   
  As I make my way through Killarney, I pass the Saint Mary's Cathedral, which is relatively 'new' as far as European Cathedrals go. Construction was started 1842 and finally opened in 1855.  
   
  I thread my way through the back streets of the city as I am making my way back towards Kenmare through the Killarney National Park.  
   
  The park is a beautiful preserve of lakes and rising hills ...  
   
  and narrow roads even for a motorcycle.  
   
  Fortunately at this tight bend I see the tour bus coming and hold back before I become a traveling signboard on the side of it.  
   
  As I climb up the hill, I see and old estate ruin and wonder just how old it is. Since they seem to build over here with permanence in mind, it's often hard to tell the age by looking at the construction.  
   
  As I reach the top of Molls Gap, I take a short pause at the Lady's View as the sun slowly sinks behind the hills.  
   
  I figure I'll be riding again tomorrow so I'd better fill up tonight. This evening gas stop goes by without the sad drama of the one a few days ago.  
   
 

It's back to the WatersEdge as darkness is closing in. It's around 10:30 PM so I ran the Ring of Kerry in about 5 hours. I see Miss Noreen as I slip back into the house -

"You back already?" she asks.

"Yes ma'am, I made haste pretty quickly" and we both laugh.

  
   
  After all of the events of the day, I'm exhausted emotionally and physically - and all by myself. I know Sharyn should be close to home by now, so I fall into bed in a rumpled heap. My heart is hurting but sleep finds me quickly and for that I am thankful.