We are the last people to make it onto the bus for Limerick. We roll up to the door with bikes, tickets and smiles. The driver opens up another compartment and we quickly load our bikes in the belly of the beast. Even though we purchased extra bike tickets the driver can at any time not allow them. Safe on board we immediately take off. We get a final tour of the area as we wind our way out of this historical city. We have left many things still to be done and seen, perhaps another time. Our journey is long and meandering, the bus having to go through and stop at every small town along the way. We doze in and out of sleep, window watch, play games on the ipods and snack on candy bars. We arrive in Limerick late in the afternoon with dark gray skies that threaten yet another downpour.
It feels darn good to be on the bikes again. The days riding trains and buses have softened us a bit and the cool wind in the hair refreshes our souls. We have only a short twelve to fifteen kilometer ride to Bunratty, but the increasing head wind makes us work all the harder. It does not take long for the rains to begin, we pull over under the slight protection of a tree and put on the rain gear, back in the saddle again. We ride this way for an hour, signs and billboards advertise the historical castle and village of Bunrraty. Again, we had made reservations ahead of time with a pleasant B&B just up the road from the famed castle. We had also tried to get online tickets to the medieval feast that takes place in the castle. Clare, Alexander's mother has done the feast several times and it's highly recommended. Alex's mother also contributed towards the tickets, so attending is a must and our last hurrah of the trip.Finding the Inisfree B&B we unload and rest. The dinner is not far off so we get gussied up in our only non moldy outfits and we get a ride to the castle from our gracious host. Once at the castle we find that our online ticket request was not accepted. We wait at the entrance and hope for any no-shows as tonight's dinner is booked full. As each group of diners walk through the doors, our hopes of attending diminish and diminish. After an hour of hopeful waiting we are told that tonight will not happen. We do get tickets for tomorrow night and at the internet's discount. Luckily we have just one last night. Since we are all dressed up we make it down the street and decide to dine at the quasi famous pub Durty Nellys.
We enjoy a fine dinner and a pub full of craic, also finally trying a Guinness with current juice, Alexander's mothers favorite ( pictured above). We walk back the mile or so to the B&B in the dark. Our lone flashlight providing safety and guidance under the magnificent loom of the castle. Tomorrow we will try this feast again.
What was to be our last day in Ireland begins with breakfast, Alex with Irish oatmeal drowned in Baily's Irish cream, Susan with crappy microwaved pancakes with maple flavored corn syrup. We make the mile walk back to Bunrraty castle. Along the way we stop off at the Bunrraty Winery, specializing in the production of local mead and potcheen. Potcheen is a sweet liqueur, minty and high in alcohol. We sample taste of each in the morning sun. With so much still to do in the day our plan is to "blitz" the grounds at Bunrraty Castle. Map in hands we walk briskly through reading informative plaques and snap photos. To our surprise the historic village was fascinating, and the photo opportunities abounded. Following the map that had each building numbered became a game. A Bunratty by Numbers if you will. Inside the castle tight stair cases led to elegant dinning rooms, master bedrooms, libraries and kitchens. Once on top we were provided a spectacular view of the countryside. Navigating the spiraling staircase from top to bottom was a dizzying experience.
After two hours we had made it through the medieval garden and village. Not the fast blitz that we intended on but super fun and informative. Continuing on foot we found the nearby bus stop with only a short wait for the bus into Limerick. Once we boarded the bus the driver informed us that purchasing three one way tickets was the only option to achieve our route. We needed to go from Bunratty to Limerick, find bicycle boxes and supplies, then buy a one way ticket to Shannon Airport, and finally a third one way ticket to get from the airport back to Bunratty...! This was to be a long afternoon. The ride into Limerick was swift, upon arrival began the next daunting task of finding multiple large cardboard bike boxes for the shipping of the trusty steeds back home. With a tip from a sport shop we find a local bike store. We give the owner our pitch and he goes back and is able to find two bike boxes, on the smallish size. We put one box inside the other. Susan on one end and Alex on the other. We navigate the sidewalks of Limerick in search of another bike shop. Like clockwork the rain begins and the notion of water damage on these precious boxes is frightening. Arms tired and noticing stomachs grumbling we find a conner deli with a protective awning for the bike boxes. We rest, eat and get permission to leave the boxes protected from the rain outside. We scurry towards another bike shop across town, thankful for not having to lug the other two boxes. We find the shop but the owner has no empty boxes. Seeing our predicament the owner proceeds to open up two new bikes, providing us with the sought after shell. A wonderfully kind thing to do. This is that Irish hospitality you hear about. We drag these two boxes back through town and find the others safely stashed away from the elements. With great effort we combine all four boxes together, making for a bloated heap of cardboard for our trek. We get packing material along the way to the bus station. The lady at the ticket counter sees our swelling collection of boxes and shakes her head. She tells us that the driver will not allow such a thing. We smile and ignore her words as we pay for the next round of one way tickets. The driver must accept our package or our plan is doomed.
We are on our way to Shannon airport! We had reduced the swelling and bulge of the boxes with a tight wrapping of packing tape. We smiled at the bus driver and motioned him to open the other side compartment for us. Dragging the heap of cardboard up to the ticket counter at the airport we find out that our plane tomorrow leaves at seven in the morning not at night as we had thought. It's been five adventurous weeks and our time has become a bit skewed. Thank-god we now know and we are directed to the storage room to dispose of the boxes until tomorrow six A.M. We purchase the last round of bus tickets and wait. What a crazy afternoon. We are tired and dirty as the bus delivers us back to where we once started this day. The farewell feast will be at hand soon, so instead of walking back to the B&B a couple of pints of the plain at Durty Nelly's will have to do.
The Bunratty Medieval Banquet: a seven course meal that is eaten without utensils to the song and dance of themed performers. Claire Ferguson swears by this experience so it is in her honor that we walk arm and arm up to the entrance of the castle to the celebratory sound of a bagpipe. It is here that we are asked to be the grand Duke and Duchess of the night. A title that will bring leather crowns and a place at the head of the table. We accept and await our royal entrance. The evening unfolds to endless flowing pitchers of wine and platters of food. Susan and I are surrounded by a group of tourists from Germany, we exchange polite conversations in broken English and have them take a photo of us in our knightly head dress. A most fantastic ending to an adventure and honeymoon of a life time!
The sky is still pitch black as the alarm rings out. Already packed from earlier, we drag our bones along with our panniers outside and load the bikes. With the soft ticking sounds of our freewheels, we ride silently down the road leaving Bunratty and the country behind. The ride is ten kilometers to Shannon airport. As we reach the airport the sky has turned a cobalt hue of blue and at six a.m. we have two short hours to disassemble and box our bicycles, the clock is running. We find a quiet corner in the airport and get the tools out. The next hour and a half is a blur of grease, wrenches, and packing tape. We work side by side taking occasional note of the time. We somehow fit every thing into the two cardboard boxes and wrap them heavy in tape. Susan scribbles out names and addresses on the outside of the boxes while Alex brings over a cart. We push and heave the overloaded luggage cart through a now growing maze of travelers toward the Continental gate. As we near the counter the two gate agents eyes widen and I notice on shaking her head in disbelievingly. The gate is closing and the plane is now boarding. Our boxed weigh in to the EXACT allowed weight. One more gram and we would have had to repack. All that stands before us is getting through customs before the plane departs.
Interesting fact of our Honeymoon adventure in Ireland:
Total kilometers rode in five weeks: 1,700 km = 1,056.331 miles
ten nights camped under rainy skies
one punctured tire
befriended famed cinematographer Christopher Doyle
Five hour bike ride from Sligo to Donegal in total downpour of rain
five sheep herded by bicycle
seventeen fish & chips dinners each
roughly ninety-five pints of stouts consumed
Eight Europeans befriended
One collision (with a rosebush)
Five ounces of wool collected
seven ounces of dried peat moss collected
one attack from mad squirrel
one pair of moldy gloves
two train rides taken
four ferries boarded
four busses and one car ridden in.
One honeymoon savings account exhausted.
