Belfast

[Kyle]We found out the next morning that the wifi wasn’t working. After spending a couple of hours troubleshooting the problem on our end, we called BT (British Telecom) and they confirmed the problem was on their end and they would get to it soon, so no internet – again. We are getting so tired of this.

City Hall with the New "Belfast Wheel" in the background - it was way too rainy and overcast to bother paying for the view up top!
Anyway, the three of us took the train into Belfast for a day of proper tourism. By the time we got into the city, it was raining hard. Most of the Irish seemed to think the weather wasn’t too bad because the drops weren’t huge. It was still pretty miserable, though. Most of the things (City Hall, Opera House, Ulster Museum), etc. that we were planning to see were closed for renovation. We popped into the tourist office and eventually decided that a bus tour was the best way to see things without getting too wet. Bus tours are a bit touristy for us but it was actually pretty well done.
Rain and wind makes for plenty of lost umbrellas - this pair are holding on tight!
Belfast is a really beautiful city. Its violent history adds another layer that makes it even more interesting. We found that, even though the peace is recent, people are pretty open about talking about it. Much of the tour went through areas where the conflict was particularly bad. This made things seem relatively normal but I was surprised to find that Belfast still retained a certain wariness about things flaring up again. The gates of the huge and serpentine Peace Wall separating Catholic and Protestant areas still close at night and Sundays, there are bomb proof walls surrounding most government buildings and, of course, the murals about the conflict are everywhere.
Fencing behind these houses continues to divide one Protestant area from its Catholic neighbors



Sample Murals found in Belfast, nearly all are political, and the more modern ones are depicting struggles outside of Northern Ireland
It was still pouring cold rain most of the time once we were done with the tour. We flitted from one place to the next, dodging the worst of it but it really didn’t make standing around looking at buildings seem like that much fun, particularly as it was pretty difficult to keep the camera from getting soaked. We decided that perhaps we were getting it all wrong and ducked into a pub for dinner.


The National Trust's Crown Bar/Pub, amazing glass and tile work, the pictures just don't do it justice, and it is exquisite inside too.
[Maryanne]We had hoped to dine in the Crown Bar/Pub, described by some as "the most beautiful bar in the world" and considered special enough to the only pub owned by the National Trust - unfortunately they were fully booked so we ate across the street and I even got to pull my own pint. If you ever find yourself in Belfast you have to spend some time in the Crown Bar and enjoy a pint or two!

[Kyle]From there, we went to the airport where I fought off my heebie jeebies as Sarah rented a car. She had unfortunately left part of her license back at the boat (British ones are two-parters) so I ended up being the one assigned to drive. I love driving in the UK. Not only is there the great novelty of driving on the wrong side of the road from the wrong side of the car, but the driving is, well, just different. In the U.S., we have a television show about bad drivers. These are usually taken from police car dashboard cams and are mostly cars careening down the wrong side of the road on bare rims before finally disappearing in a cloud of dust as they wipe out on somebody’s lawn. The British version of this show is mostly cctv footage of naughty drivers who have failed to indicate when entering a motorway or who have engaged in the extremely dangerous maneuver of undertaking. (For Americans, undertaking is passing in the slow lane. It is also technically illegal in the States but nobody cares. Brits, you’ve been warned.) The announcer engages in all of this hilarious hutting and tutting about how only the most reckless and immoral people would dare drive in such a manner. Don’t get me wrong, there are genuinely bad drivers over here as well, namely teenagers and middle aged men with overinflated egos, but, on the whole, the drivers over here are much more polite and law abiding. I think the roads are also nicer, particularly with regard to markings and signage. There is also the unmistakable superiority of the roundabout. (Maryanne calls them four-way stops where nobody actually has to stop.) It seems harder to get lost, at least outside of Cork. The only thing that makes me nervous is that the lanes are only about a foot wider than most cars, which is pretty scary on a two lane road with hedges on both sides.

We took the opportunity to head to the grocery store and get some heavy items. To make Maryanne feel more at home, I made her carry the cart to the car while I made sure she didn’t bump into anything. My wife don’t need no stinkin’ wheels.

When we got home we found that BT had still not fixed their wifi. Grrr.

The Full Cruiser Experience

[Kyle]Our chainplates have been leaking badly every time the deck gets wet, which over here is all the time. (Chainplates are the steel straps connecting the mast shrouds to the main bulkhead. On many boats, including Geminis, these run through holes in the deck.) One of the things we really wanted to get done in the marina is re-bedding them (for the 3rd time this year). For this, we needed calm water, since the shrouds have to be disconnected, and at least a few hours of dry weather for the sealant to cure. We also had a whole list of other routine maintenance items we needed to get doing as well. This meant poor Sarah, who was a really good sport about it, got to spend the day scraping old sealant off the chainplates and other various jobs. The weather was actually lovely all day. It seemed like such a shame to not be out sailing in it like everybody else in the marina seemed to be doing but were really backed up on our boring jobs list. By the end of the day, we were grubby and tired but Footprint was back shipshape again. The only things we had left were the shift cable and the coolant line. Parts were on the way and both of those should be easy fixes.

As I was changing the engine oil, I looked up at a couple of people walking by and was pleased to see that it was John and Dorothy! They had sailed Gadabout in the previous night and were berthed only two slips down. We had not even noticed that the only other Gemini in Ireland was only a few feet away when we came back from dinner the previous night. If they hadn’t been past us, we probably would have climbed on their boat instead. They had also seen us in Carlingford when they got in just a few hours before we left. Their last day up to Bangor was also very rough. After we got everything done and were cleaned up, they came over and the five of us spent a nice evening chatting away for hours. It was such a nice, unexpected surprise to see them.

John and Dorothy of Gadabout join us for drinks - parked just 2 slips away in Bangor Marina

Bangor Marina (Near Belfast)

[Kyle]It poured all night, of course. The next morning, we made the short trip over from Ballyholme Bay to Bangor Marina to check in for a few days. The marina is very nice and the staff is friendly. When we asked about wifi, we were told that it was available. This means it’s not included but is provided by a third party. Eventually, we signed onto BT Openzone for 26 pounds for 5 days. Ouch! Well, at least we have it.

We had a quick tidy of the boat before Maryanne’s sister, Sarah arrived for a few days. Most of the rest of the day was spent catching up with her and doing various chores. Afterwards, she took us out for a nice dinner at a nearby pub.

Kyle hoists the new UK courtesy flag once we've officially cleared in
[Maryanne]Once we arrived at Bangor Marina we officially cleared customs; this process involved a phone call to a disinterested official. Legally we are obliged to report our arrival in EACH EU country since Kyle is a US Citizen and the Boat is US Registered (It is not required for EU citizens/boats). We will continue to follow the letter of the law, but it is both amusing and frustrating to find us in our 2nd EU country and nobody seems to care, nor do we have any official paperwork to prove our arrival/departure dates. Once cleared, I left Kyle to tidy the boat, and went to meet with my Sister at the local rail station - it was great to see her again (it had been over a year since our last visit).

To Belfast

Another Lighthouse.... They are all over the place
[Kyle]Our day to Belfast was horrible. We got up early intending to catch the very beginning of the ebb out of Strangford. This would allow us to make the most of the following current up the coast. As I was doing the pre-departure check on the engine, I found that the hose from the heat exchanger to the overflow reservoir had become brittle and allowed the reservoir to leak out. Fixing it was easy. I just cut off the offending end and reclamped the shorter hose back in place. I started the engine. Maryanne asked me to go forward a bit to relieve some of the tension on the anchor rode. I couldn’t get it into gear. The handle didn’t feel like it was doing anything at all. We opened the transmission cover and discovered that the problem was that the socket on the ball joint that connects the cable to the transmission lever had corroded and was no longer staying stuck on the ball. Being the masters of the jury rig, we figured out how to fix it temporarily using cable ties. Our main problem was that the space is hard to access and so it took a while to get everything right with only one hand available. Now we had stuff to fix in Belfast.

We ended up finally getting underway just as the maximum ebb current approached. I was a bit concerned about this because the wind was forecast to be onshore against the ebb although not that strong at only 12 knots. We went zinging past Strangford Town at eleven knots. The water was turbulent in spots but it was manageable. Further ahead, I could see a small area of what appeared to be 3 or 4 foot chop at the entrance. The wind increased to about 25 knots true (we were seeing 37 with our forward motion). I briefly considered turning back but we would have been barely able to make headway against the ebb and the current was still increasing. The chop was now looking like four or five feet. I knew it would be uncomfortable but figured we could get through it. As we approached the waves, Footprint was sucked toward them like entering a rapid on a river. Just then, I realized that I had made a terrible mistake. The waves were only four or five feet but what I couldn’t see from a distance was that they were separated by four or five foot holes only about a boat length apart, making the faces near-vertical. Footprint would drop into a hole just as the next wave curled over her. The motion was extremely violent. All I could see in any direction was walls of water right next to the boat. Every time we came off a wave, we would slam to a complete stop making the rudders practically useless. The only way I had of turning the boat was by changing the direction of engine thrust with the drive leg. Even then, it was very difficult to keep the boat straight. I was terrified of getting beam to the waves and being flipped over. I doubted we would even be able to successfully swim in this. I knew we couldn’t turn back. I desperately wanted to go sideways to get out of the current but I didn’t dare risk a turn. We had no choice but to ride it out to sea until it dissipated.

The next few minutes were the most frightening I have ever had on a boat; worse than 20 foot seas in the middle of the Atlantic, worse than seeing a ship come out of the fog right at us in New York Harbor, worse than getting knocked down in a monohull and seeing the mast hit the water. I am NEVER, EVER doing that again! A few miles out, the seas calmed a little and we were able to turn sideways and get out of the current. Within seconds, we were in a long 2 foot swell and everything was calm. It took me about a half an hour to stop shaking, though.
Another Cold Irish PassageIt rained all the way up and it was so cold. I know Mark Twain said the coldest winter he ever saw was a Summer in San Francisco. Well, I’ve lived in San Francisco over the summer. It was very cold but San Francisco has nothing on Northern Ireland for cold summers. As we rounded the corner into Belfast Lough, we turned into the wind and the wind chill got worse. Maryanne had a laugh when I asked for a cup of hot tea. I finally get it! Why would anybody in this climate want cold tea. It’s too cold, man! Iced tea when it’s only 60F sounds like the worst idea in the world, but hot tea in a mug you can wrap your cold fingers around is just lovely!

We got to our anchorage in Ballyholme Bay, by Bangor, just outside Belfast. I was a bit concerned because there were no other boats anchored there. I figured it may because the holding was bad or something but the anchor stuck first time and held fast. In spite of the fact that it was now blowing near 30 knots, we got a front row seat as the local kids had their day of dinghy practice. The poor kids were capsizing almost constantly. There was always one or two capsized at the same time. We saw one dinghy capsize directly in front of another. The second kid capsized trying to avoid the first but managed to jump onto the first boat and keep from getting wet. Pretty slick move.

More Strangford

Footprint Shares the Lough with the Seals
[Kyle]By the next morning, the wind had dropped and there was a blue sky. We decided to make the best of it before it rained. We put a reef in the sail for the Pudgy and had another go at making it to the yacht club. No sooner had we left Footprint than it became apparent that we didn’t have enough sail. We shook out the reef and tacked our way up the harbour. The Quoile Yacht Club is right below a big dam that acts as the head of navigation. I was determined to get at least within sight of the dam. While we were reefing just off Rat Island, we saw and heard several seals making a huge racket. Closer examination revealed that they had several adorable furry baby seals on the beach. They are just too cute.

Seals in the Lough
The wind picked up and then it started to rain. Between the rain and the spray from the chop, we were getting hit with a lot of cold water. We were at about the point where we turned back the day before. This time, we were determined not to turn back and let Ireland beat us again, so we kept going. The rain shower turned out to only be a few minutes and soon enough, we were back in sunshine and light breezes, drying off. We made it to the edge of the yacht club and began tacking our way through. Because there is an outlet for the dam on the other side, there is pretty much a continuous current to fight. We spent an entertaining couple of hours inching our way along. A few times, it took us five or six tacks to get past a particular boat. This gave us a great sense of triumph when we finally bumped past their mooring ball with the stern of the Pudgy. We eventually got within sight of the dam and I changed my goal to landing on the yacht club’s dock so we could stretch our legs and find their restrooms. We were being a bit naughty since this was technically illegal. We hadn’t cleared Customs and Immigration for Northern Ireland yet. It is unnecessary for Maryanne to bother within the EU, but I need to. We’re supposed to clear in before making landfall. It’s generally okay to anchor as long as you don’t go ashore, which, oops, we just did. We made it quick.

One note about the Quoile Yacht Club: Near the restrooms are their recycling bins, which were piled high with bottles for fine wine and expensive spirits, not a cheap beer can in sight. These people’s parties are the ones to which you want to get invited.

Back at the dinghy, we cast off and had a brief conversation with a couple on a nearby boat about where we’d been, etc. Just as we stated sailing off, the guy tossed us a couple of candy bars for the sail back. Maryanne made two astounding one-armed catches, leaning backwards out of the dinghy like a pro outfielder. I was sure we were going to have to chase them down and fish them out but no need.

We were amazed at how fast we blazed through the mooring field on the way out with both wind and current in our favour. Within ten minutes, we were passing Footprint for the trip up a different channel to see the cows and the Viking boat. The tide was by now almost all the way up and I got it into my head that we just may be able to circumnavigate Gore’s Island and come out again at the yacht club. As we were tacking up the estuary toward the gap, it started to rain again. This time it didn’t look like it was going to let up soon. I could tell Maryanne was keen to just give up, but she indulged me and we finally made it through with the rudder kicked up in inches of water. The sun finally came out again and we had yet another fast downwind sail home, but not before we also ticked off a circumnavigation of little Rat Island.

Goodbye Republic of Ireland, Hello Northern Ireland

Kyle loved this "Bumble Bee" lighthouse we found while heading North
[Kyle]We had to get underway very early in order to get the currents in our favour and arrive at our next stop before nightfall. At 2 a.m., I got up and poked my head outside to find a clear, starry sky. What the hell!? I think I’ve finally been in Ireland long enough to resent good weather. Nice in the middle of the night does hardly anybody any good. I shot the sky a disapproving look and prepared the boat for departure.

Once underway, we shot out of the Lough with help from the current. The wind picked up and I raised the sails in a fifteen knot tailwind. Within seconds, the wind completely died and we ended up with a four knot headwind, which was really just the four knot current pushing us through still air. I shot the sky another one of my looks and restarted the engine. He wind never really came back again after that. We had one two hour period when we just couldn’t take the motor anymore and we just crept along under sail anyway, enjoying the peace and quiet. We had a current to worry about so we eventually had to give up and start the engine again. The sea was a flat mirror. We slid along under a beautiful, clear, sunny sky. The visibility was fabulous. On one side, the Mourne Mountains slowly slid aft, on the other, we could see all the way to the Isle of Man, 30 miles away.

The high mountains gave way to low, rolling fields and we turned into Strangford Lough. Strangford Lough is another large estuary (about 5x15 miles) dotted with islands that is all fed through a gap of about 1 mile at the town of Strangford. Because of this, peak currents are around 7 knots. We had about four going with us as we zinged by the town being gently shoved this way and that by eddies. We entered the main part of the Lough, passed the village of Killyleagh and headed down the channel towards the Quoile Yacht Club. Before we got that far, though, we pulled off and dropped anchor in a secluded spot between Salt, Gore’s and Rat Islands. Rat Island is uninhabited (at least by people), Salt and Gore’s islands are both populated with dairy cattle living a nice, easy, pastoral life.

Since we left so early, we got in early. With the day still being so bright and beautiful, I decided to get the dinghy out and have a sail around the islands. It was blowing pretty hard and it was a little cold so Maryanne decided the first trip out would be a solo reconnaissance one. I put a reef in the sail, making it about the size of a dinner table and took off. What a nice day! The scenery was just lovely. Rolling, tree lined pastures with the steep Mourne Mountains behind. One of the smaller islands was just covered with nesting sea birds who squawked nervously as I approached in the little, scary, orange thing. I came around a corner and got a similar reaction from a small herd of cows. Somebody way up there had a Viking longboat on a mooring. I sailed back past Footprint and headed up the Lough to see the yacht club. By then, many of the boats were returning from their day and I got lots of friendly smiles as we passed each other. I made it to the edge of the Yacht Club mooring field. Going further would have involved tacking up through the mooring field, which I wasn’t up to. Clouds were rolling in and it was getting colder. The wind decreased enough for me to shake the reef out for the quick downwind trip back to Footprint. I got there just as it started raining. I think I’m starting to figure out Irish weather. Blue sky means it’s about to rain, gray sky means it is raining.

Eagle Mountain and other scenes
It rained all night in sheets. The rigging vibrated all night in the howling wind. Both of us kept getting up in the night worrying that we’d dragged. We never have but we frequently worry about it.

The morning was the same. We couldn’t even see the islands through the rain-streaked windows. Yuck! Nice day for a book. At 10 o’clock, it just cleared up – just like that. Huh! Okay, it was still pretty windy but otherwise nice. Maryanne rowed into the shallows looking for mussels and found none so we decided to take the dinghy out for a sail. Even with the sail reefed, it became obvious as soon as we left Footprint that this was a bad idea. Going downwind, the little Pudgy was completely overpowered and kept trying to broach (for you lubbers, it’s pretty much a wipe out). Turning upwind toward the yacht club, we ended up pounding into chop and taking cold wave after cold wave over the side. Not fun. We endured this for maybe ten minutes before deciding it wasn’t worth it and high-tailing it back to Footprint. By the time we got there, I was sitting in a three inch puddle of water. I stood up and it all ran down my legs. Eeewww! It never did end up doing anything but rain the rest of the day. Fleh.


Kyle in the Dinghy, and this tree shows the predominant WINDY conditions in Ireland

Leaving Dublin

Photos
[Kyle]The morning we left Malahide, we got up early so that we could head to FifteenBucks to get some much needed internet so that we could upload blog entries and download weather. To our horror, it turns out they don’t have wifi. We were told it was coming soon. Who has ever heard of a SixteenBucks without wifi? We were back on the street begging everybody we could find for wifi like homeless people looking for bus money. Eventually, we fetched up at a cafe that had a sticker on the door advertising it. The guy gave us one of those looks that made it clear that he didn’t like serving our kind and handed us a card with the code, good for 30 minutes. We tried to appease him by buying sandwiches but it had no effect. 30 minutes later, we were almost done. I went to the counter and begged for more. He looked at me like something he wanted to scrape off his shoe and then shoved a new card at me as if it were a knife. Whew! Ireland is supposed to be one of the most technologically advanced countries in the world. For the life of us, we cannot figure out why wifi is so hard to find.

We got back to Footprint, cast off the lines and headed out with a fair current. The sky was clearing up and was mostly blue for a change. The wind was blowing off the land at about fifteen knots. This made the air warmer and the seas nice and flat. We flew up the coast under mainsail and screacher. Occasionally, the wind would increase at gaps in the land and we’d roll up the screacher and switch to full genoa until it was passed. Dark, heavy clouds formed over the land all day but we were in clearer air over the colder sea and we never got more than a brief sprinkle.

We crossed Dundalk Bay and turned in to Carlingford Lough just before the ebb switched to a flood. The timing for the entry had to be just right as the currents are so strong we would not have been able to make headway against it. The buoys at the entrance, instead of having the normal round shape, were actually perched on hulls shaped like skiffs so they could streamline in the current.

Carlingford Lough marks the border between the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland and it is just beautiful. The Lough is maybe two miles across. Each side rises up steadily, fjordlike, to the tops of 3000’ hills that were capped by clouds. The hills were covered by farms and forest until about halfway up, and then they gave way to rocky scrub. Having grown up in an area where the tree line is at about 12,000 feet, that, and the clouds gave the me feeling that the hills were much larger than they were.

We made our way to the anchorage at Carlingford town. The harbour dries out completely at low tide. In order to keep enough water under us, we had to anchor about a mile from shore.

The next morning, I had intended to get an early start and climb Carlingford Mountain but rain was slashing down from the direction of town so that ended up having virtually zero appeal. By the time it was around 11:00, the rain and the wind had left and we could see the town’s kids getting out their dinghies for a sail. We decided to follow suit and rigged the Portland Pudgy for the sail into the harbour. Carlingford is a charming three street village so it didn’t take us long to see all there was to see. I think we were both keen to hike a few of the nearby trails but the tide was falling and we were worried that the Pudgy would get stranded and we would have to portage through ¼ mile of mud. We had a quick cup of tea in a pub to escape a quick rain shower and then started the sail back. The wind had shifted and we were fighting both it and the current to get back to Footprint. We were barely making progress and at the rate we were going, it was going to take us a couple of hours to get back. No worries, we weren’t in a hurry. Before too long, clouds started rolling in over Carlingford Mountain and it began raining. It was awful, cold rain that collected on the sail and then ran onto us in steady streams. Enough of this, we decided, and broke down the sailing rig and started a mad row into it. It was wetter because of all the spray but at least it was over with faster. It was good to get back aboard Footprint and fire up the old heater.

Around Carlingford

Around Malahide

Look! Another Gemini, this one is "Gadabout" and sits much higher in the water than Footprint!
[Kyle]Well not really. When we got up in the morning, it was windy and raining (again). Most of our outside jobs had little appeal. We did what we could indoors and at midday, went up to the chandlery to price up a few things we needed. By the time we came out of the store a few minutes later, it was blazing sunlight. Man, the weather is weird here.

We managed to get a few fix-it jobs done before John met us for what would eventually be dinner at his house. In the meantime, he graciously drove us to the boat store, the hardware store and the grocery store, saving us the effort of walking all over town and carrying stuff home on our backs (mine is pretty much back to normal now) We made an effort to focus on bulky and heavy stuff.

Back at their house, which is on a farm, Dorothy made us a lovely dinner and the four of us spent the rest of the night laughing and talking about anything and everything. They are such great people. The time just flew by. By the time John drove us back to the marina, it was 2:30. Wow! Just as we got there, it started raining again. We piled all of our shopping into a dock cart and then made the long, wet slog back to Footprint.

We had planned to go back into Dublin again the next day but, understandably, we ended up sleeping in a little late. After a brief period of denial about still being able to fit everything in, we eventually gave up and decided to spend the rest of the day on odd jobs at the boat. Perhaps we’ll even make it to Fourteenbuck’s and this will make it out into the ether.

Dublin

Typical Dublin Pub
[Kyle]We were up early for the quick train ride into Dublin. Dublin was demolished in the 70s and rebuilt using that period’s unfortunate architecture. There is nothing left of any interest to see.

Just kidding, this 1100 year old city is just dripping at every turn with rich history. Our first stop was Trinity College.
This university is nearly as old as the city that surrounds it. So old, in fact, that when it was first built, it was touted as being near Dublin, only a few hundred yards away. We took a very nice walking tour guided by a recent history graduate who did a good job of giving us the highlights of the college’s long history. Following this, we went to the library to see the intricately illustrated Book of Kells, dating from around AD 800 and one of the oldest books in the world. While there was a certain aspect of being herded past the book itself, the displays leading up to it did a very good job of explaining the laborious process of producing a handwritten, carefully illustrated book in those days.

From Trinity College, we had an amble through Merrion Square, a beautifully landscaped park that is a tranquil respite from the bustling city. In one corner of the park is a statue of Oscar Wilde accompanied by a few of his witticisms. After that, we had a look at City Hall before heading to Dvblinia, an exhibit focusing on Dublin’s Viking past.
City Hall Entrance
Dublin's Christchurch Cathedral and Catacombs
Dvblinia lies in the Old Synod Hall, which is attached via bridge to the Christchurch Cathedral, reputedly the prettiest in Ireland, although, personally, I’d go with St Finbarre’s in Cork. Still very nice, though. My favourite part was the giant organ with the circular staircase up to where the organist sits.


With some daylight still left, we headed over to the Castle Gardens for a bit and then returned to the train station via a stroll through Temple Bar, Dublin’s artsy tourist district, and then down the boardwalk on the River Liffey.

Wicklow to Dublin

[Kyle]The forecast was for very light winds so we (I) got up very early for the trip to Dublin in order make the best use of the current. We left the harbour in a clear, starry sky and made decent speed north in the light winds. By the time we started seeing the first hint of twilight, a gray, featureless cloud mass was approaching from over the horizon. Over the next couple of hours, the wind died down and the clouds descended. A drizzle started that gradually turned into real rain. Yup, we were still in Ireland, all right. It was only short lived and after we passed Dublin Harbour, the rain stopped and the visibility was improving slightly. The area to the north of Dublin Harbour is very pretty. Several islands are scattered about maybe a couple of miles apart, some with pretty houses, and some only with nesting birds. Malahide, where we were staying, was entered through a shallow cut in a sand dune. We had come here partly because it was convenient to transportation but mostly to meet the owners of the only other Gemini in Ireland, John and Dorothy of Gadabout.

The marina is one of those enormous developments that takes up most of the real estate in the area and includes a posh restaurant, a chandlery and a large condominium complex. John tells me U2s guitarist, The Edge, owns one of the condos and uses it for guests. (Edge grew up in Malahide). We were assigned a dock just over the horizon from the marina office that was within sight of Gadabout but because of the marina layout, was a good 20 minute walk away. We got settled in and were distressed to find that there was no wifi. How can that be? The marina practically has its own train stop. Nope, no wifi. If you want wifi, you have to go to Fourbucks, or as it’s known in Ireland Fourteenbucks. Yaargh! (On the train, we saw a newspaper headline about how Ireland had moved down to the second most expensive place in Europe. I don’t know what the first is now, but with our luck, it will probably be Scotland or Norway)

John and Dorothy came down and we spent a little time on Footprint before making the trek to Gadabout for snacks. They had other plans for the evening and since Maryanne and I got up early, we decided to make an early night of it.

Exploring Wicklow

[Kyle]Our next day in Wicklow, the weather was fairly dreary in the morning, so we lingered about and didn’t really get out until the afternoon. We had been unsuccessful in finding a good wireless connection, so we had a quick orientation walk with that as our focus. We found one signal that would always disappear before completing the connection process but nothing else. There are two internet cafes in town but neither of them had wireless, which was pretty useless for us since we wanted to upload stuff from our computer as well as download grib weather files that we need our software to interpret. All we could do with their machines was check email, which wasn’t cutting it.

We finally gave up on that and had a walk along a ‘nature’ trail. It started off okay in a nice park along the river but eventually wound itself through a bunch of construction sites and ended up being decidedly unlovely. We decided to make a loop and walk back along a road and happened across a grocery store. We only popped in for a few things but kept remembering stuff we needed. Fortunately, Maryanne had the presence of mind when we left the boat to bring her big camping backpack. We filled it and then some with stuff that was mostly heavy, like cans and milk. By the time it was filled, it probably weighed half as much as she did. When we got into the parking lot, I balanced the thing on the edge of the shopping cart and she backed up to it like a truck picking up a trailer. After much strap adjusting and wiggling to get as underneath the weight as possible, she put her muscle into it and heaved it into the air. It was like watching the space shuttle take off. She had gravity beat, but just barely. We hadn’t quite been able to fit everything into the pack and had three shopping bags as spare; one light, two heavy. She insisted on taking the two heavy ones because she was worried about my back, which was barely functional by that time, and I got the light one. I’m sure it looked pretty bad. Maryanne was stoically marching ahead making cracks in the pavement with every footfall while I followed behind carrying a sack that contained a bag of potato chips and a roll of paper towels in one hand and her coat in the other, which was making me miserable because my hand was getting kinda hot.

The walk turned out to be longer than we thought. Like going through a line at Disneyland, every time we would think we were almost there, we would come around the corner and find that we were definitely not. When we finally got back to Footprint, Maryanne then had the frightening task of swinging the pack over the side of the wall and climbing down the ladder with it, poor thing.

The next day, the weather was clear and beautiful. We got up early and packed a bag and headed off on the coastal trail to Wicklow Head. The woman in the tourist office the day before suggested we take the road and avoid the trail, implying the trail was dangerous in places. We both decided she seemed like a bit of an indoor girl and that we would take our chances anyway. The trail had a few spots that were steep or overgrown, but there wasn’t anything I would consider treacherous for a person with normal balance. There was one spot that did have me scrambling up a steep hill away from the cliffs on all fours. I was practically buried in the thick heather, but that was because I lost the trail in an overgrown part. Maryanne had the sense not to follow me.


The trail was absolutely stunning. We snaked our way over cliffs and around coves through ferns and heather with little purple flowers with a background of either sea or rolling green hills. Eventually, we returned to the road right at the gate to the lighthouse. We took the path in and had our lunch looking out at the sea past the lighthouse we had sailed past a couple of days before.

Back in Wicklow Town, we had showers to get the mud off and then resumed our search for internet. Our first stop was the sailing club bar, where the woman there impressed us by remembering what we had the one other time she had seen us in her life. No luck there so we wandered off. Eventually, we found a weak signal from a park bench on a hill, but only if I stood a certain way with the antenna. It reminded me of the old rabbit ear days of TV. Oh, if only we had some aluminium foil! It was windy and very cold, so we could only stand to get the bare minimum done. Everything else would have to wait until Dublin.

USA v. UK

[Maryanne]Having spent 5 and a half years in the USA, and now returned back to Europe, and with Kyle’s input too, I figured it was time to talk about a selection of some of the less reported differences that we, ourselves, are often amazed at.

Volume V. Weight in recipes. When I first moved to the USA, and started cooking I was amazed and scornful of the use of CUPS used in all recipes. I’ve always measured ingredients by weight – any British recipe will only give a list of items by weight (or for liquids by volume). This has the advantage of great accuracy and repeatability. Clearly a fixed volume of flour, sugar, raisins, etc, will vary in weight depending on how packet it is. So if your recipe requires a precise mix of ingredients then measuring by weight is MUCH superior. Eventually, and mainly because I live on a boat I came to LOVE the use of cups. A weighing scale would be useless on a heaving boat, but just reaching in and scooping a cup of flour is easy, and right. In the USA, butter comes in packets ready marked by cups and half cups, so you can just cut off the amount you want, easy, I’m really struggling with cutting off a cup of butter now back in Europe. I guess the American system has evolved from the wagon train days, and I’ve grown to find it perfect for us aboard Footprint. Now I’m struggling to convert 200g of anything into “cups”... Help!!!!!

Cordials v. Powder drink mix – In the UK, no powder fruit drink exists as far as I know. We purchase our fruit flavour drinks are a highly concentrated syrup, i.e. a liquid form. When I first moved to the states I spent ages walking up and down supermarket Isles looking for drink mixes. Eventually with Kyle’s help I found, in the USA, these mixes are all powder mixes, sold either in small paper sachets or in larger tubs with a measuring scoop included. In the USA Kool Aid, Tang, Wyler’s etc are the most common, and they come in 100’s of flavours. In the UK we can buy a much smaller range of flavours, but all in a bottle to be diluted with water... I guess you get used to what you know.

Blackcurrent flavour. Kyle didn’t even know blackcurrent was a fruit (just like I’d never heard of boysenberry) – blackcurrent is (as well as a fruit) a common flavour of drink and sweet (candy) in the UK (and great mixed with larger too). In the UK it can (obviously) be purchased as a cordial. Blackcurrent has a very strong and distinctive flavour and kids in the UK grow up with it.

Lemonade. UK lemonade is more like an American Sprite (it is carbonated, and has a similar flavour).. To get “American” lemonade in the UK you need to search for “Traditional Lemonade” in the supermarket, but even then you might find it carbonated.

Chocolate.. American chocolate is ... well ... crap. Not the top range stuff, but the general chocolate candy bar type thing (Mars, etc) uses a totally different chocolate recipe in each country. In the USA they use extra sugar, and extra stabilizers (to prevent melting) even wax in some cases. Kyle initially thought I was crazy (and snobby) with my complaints about USA chocolate, but now he agrees, he’s a total convert, he’ll never eat a regular Hershey’s bar again.

Shelf v. Checkout Price – In the UK TAX/VAT included in the ticket price, when I first moved to the USA I was constantly shocked when asked of extra money at the check-out, now I’m just as confused that the ticket price is all inclusive... Ahh, it’s the little things! And while we are on shopping, in the UK we have shopping trolleys, in the USA, carts, same thing, different name.

Prawn cocktail flavour Crisps/Chips – they just don’t have these in the USA, and think it very odd, personally it is one of my favourite flavours and I missed it terribly when in the states.

Sweetcorn in sandwiches and pizzas. – It’s a British thing! American’s think we are really crazy. It’s delicious.

Hot Mustard in Chinese Restaurants – again an American only thing.. I wonder if they use it in China? Kyle is still in shock about this one.

Crackers in Soup – it is an American thing – the Brits think the American’s are Crazy, we stick to bread and croutons here.

Cheese-Its! Kyle is seriously missing Cheese-It’s since we moved back to Europe. The nearest thing we have is Ritz Crackers, but Cheese-It’s are smaller (pound coin size, but square), and Kyle regularly throws them on his soup in place of crackers...

Ice in Drinks. In the USA a cup will be filled with ice, and then the drink added. In the UK, the drink will have (at the most) 3 ice cubes. Of course in the USA you often get unlimited top up on that soda drink, so you aren’t losing out, no such luck in the UK! In the UK, you just don’t need ice to keep your drink cold, it isn’t that hot!

Iced Tea. This is just wrong. Tea should be hot. OK, now we sell such a thing in the UK, actually you can purchase it as a powder mix (like instant coffee), but it is just not the same as in the USA, and you won’t find it in most restaurants and cafes. In America they first make a hot tea and leave it in the sun to cool (???? – sun tea), or add ice cubes and throw in the fridge (iced tea). For me, a tea loving Brit, even luke warm tea gets thrown out – tea should be hot. In America you can get Iced tea everywhere (e.g. in McDonalds at the dinks dispensers along with Coke etc). Kyle assures me it is delicious and refreshing... Every time I’ve been given it and not realized, I’ve been shocked and disgusted. Kyle tells me that Iced tea was served for the first time in the USA at the 1939 World’s Fair (Atlanta??), I guess they drank normal cold drinks before then, probably even cordials.

Waterford to Wicklow

Lighthouses En Route
[Kyle]After 2 days anchored outside Waterford the wind died down gradually during the evening to more sensible levels. After another night’s sleep, my back was much better and the forecast was looking really good so we decided to head out. I was able to get most of the departure checklist done. Some of the stuff still made me a little sore but I managed.

We had a fast trip down the long river in a following current. The sky only had a few puffy cumulus and the air was clear. The green, hilly, English style countryside slid by. Further down the river as it widens at its mouth, the wind and current were opposing one another and it made for a pretty choppy upwind pound before we were finally able to get out into the sea and turn across it, picking up speed and smoothing out our ride.

We made it to Carnsore Point (the big bend in Ireland’s coastline that separates the South coast from the East coast) just before sunset. From this point on, our cruise transitioned from an eastbound one in the Celtic Sea to a northbound one in the Irish Sea. This made our course more downwind and I was able to unfurl the screacher for the first time in a long time. The current was at its peak going the other way and we found ourselves surfing gently down the faces of big, standing waves while making almost no progress at all. A few hours later, the current had reversed again, carrying us along with the wind in flat seas as we zipped over the bottom.

As the night wore on, since it was clear, it became very cold and eventually, by 4 a.m., I had to give up and give it over to Maryanne.

[Maryanne]Kyle was determined, I think, that he would sail the full way, I kept napping and offering to take over, and eventually he gave in and went off for a sleep. I got to see the sun rise, and a bank of wind generators in the twilight, but we were a too far off the coast to see much detail of land. There was little wind, and what was there was variable so I spent most of the time tweaking sails, gybing, etc . With light winds and a strong current against me, I sometimes found myself going backwards over the ground, even though I was moving through the water – I saw a lot of that off shore wind farm! I think in 6 hours of sailing I made around 5nm over the ground.

[Kyle] Eventually, the current reversed again and released us from its grasp and we finally made it to the little man made harbour at Wicklow. The harbour consists of an inner harbour on the Leitrim River, with an outer harbour protected by breakwaters that is diamond shaped, with the opening on the top. The harbour is around ¼ miles each side. Once inside the entrance, we found the western half of the harbour was filled with moorings and the eastern half was filled with kids in dinghies racing around a triangular course. The thought briefly occurred to me to make a dash for the middle and just put the anchor there, allowing us to act as one of the race buoys and giving us a good view of the races. Since that was extremely cheeky and we were blocking the inner harbour entrance, we thought it better if we didn’t. We were going to be here for a couple of days and it would not do us well to irritate the whole town right away. Best to let them become irritated after spending some time with us. It did seem just possible to drop our anchor just outside of the line of the moored boats, but it looked tight. As we were hovering around planning and measuring our spot, one of the inflatables tending to the racers came over. Maryanne asked if he know if any of the moorings were available for use by transients. He said probably not and that most transients tie up to the East breakwater and then pointed over to a huge, jagged, slimy concrete wall with gnashing teeth. Ooh, uh, perhaps we’ll just keep measuring. A different inflatable came by and repeated the same advice. Okay, well, we’ll go over and look at it and see if we can’t make something work. On closer inspection, it didn’t look so bad. It was actually nice and smooth, not jagged and the teeth, well, I don’t know what happened to the teeth. Below the tide line, there was actually so much seaweed that it probably would have kept us from scraping concrete, even without fenders. The main problem was that the tie down rings were way up on the top of the wall, inaccessible from the boat without climbing the ladder to the top. This required that Footprint be held exactly in place with the engine while the lines were passed up, etc.

Shortly thereafter, a man just climbed aboard our boat and introduced himself as the Harbour Master. He was very friendly and helpful and said we were free to tie up to the wall. The charge was 14 Euros per day. That’s not too bad for the convenience of not having to row the dinghy in, particularly as it was forecast to blow hard for the next couple of days, and we get the use of the showers at the sailing club.

A little while later, we were boarded by another man (don’t you people knock?) who introduced himself as the commodore of the sailing club and repeated the invite to use the showers and the bar.

{Maryanne, it is generally considered highly inappropriate to climb aboard a boat without an express permission from the captain. Most visitors will call from the dock, "Ahoy" or some such thing, or will knock on the hull and await a response... So far here, that rule does not seem to apply. Kind of like having a visitor to the house, say collecting for some charity, just walking into your kitchen and not first knocking on your door - very odd. Of course everyone was really nice once aboard, so we can't complain too much, but we are just a little uncomfortable what the "rules" are here, and who we may find aboard next!}

Then, as the tide started to come up, just like in Youghal, all the town kids came out to jump off the wall into the water. Between them and the others in the dinghies and rowboats, we felt conspicuous as if we had accidentally moored in the middle of a public swimming pool. Everybody was very nice, though, being both very helpful with advice on the town as well as being interested in our travels.

Footprint on the Outer Harbour Wall at Wicklow
We are pleased that even if it blows like crazy here, Footprint is relatively secure and we will still be able to climb the ladder and head into town.

Dungarvan to Waterford

Quaint Hamlets along the River Suir (on route to Waterford)
[Kyle]We never did manage to go ashore in Dungarvan. It rained in sheets thrown by the cold, gusty wind all day. Rowing ashore did not have any appeal. It would have just been a repeat of our miserable day in Kinsale. Instead, we stayed in and ate hot soup and read books. Occasionally, I would look out the window and exclaim, “Yuck!” just in case Maryanne was wondering what my opinion of the weather was.

By the next morning, however, there was actual blue sky with actual sunshine. Unbelievable! The wind had calmed down somewhat, too, from upper 30s to mid teens it was even in the right direction for a nice fast trip. We both thought briefly about taking a quick trip ashore so that at least we could see the town but the forecast for favourable wind wasn’t supposed to last more than a day and Waterford was pretty far. Also, Brian would need his mooring back, so in the end, we decided to go.

We were running through the departure checklist and had just hoisted the dinghy when I felt this terrible stabbing twinge of pain in my back. Suddenly, I couldn’t support my weight but I also couldn’t bend as necessary to fall down so I just screamed. Maryanne rushed out and gradually lowered me to the deck. From there, I managed to crawl into the cabin on all fours and get into the settee but not without more screaming. Damn! I wasn’t even doing anything. I was done hoisting the dinghy and was just standing there when it happened. I hadn’t thrown my back out in almost two years.

Because of all of the above considerations (mostly we were on a mooring ball the owner was expecting to use that day), we still decided to leave. I helped Maryanne steer out of the anchorage since sitting wasn’t so bad if I leaned on something. Once we got out to sea, she pretty much ordered me to go lie down until she needed me. As the boat rocked on the waves, I could occasionally see the cliffs in the distance. Everything looked really pretty. Why did this have to happen on such a nice day?

As we approached Waterford, we found that our intended anchorage, which was around a bend from the main town, had no access to shore and was very steep to. We couldn’t get in shallow enough water without being right on the shore. I decided to head for the town and see if we couldn’t scrounge up something there. When we got there, we found all the water was way too deep or too close to something scary. The few marinas were all full and besides, they had security gates but no offices. Maryanne managed to call one of the numbers and they gave us some instructions that sounded like: “Get a slip from the box by the gate, take it to the hotel. They’ll give you a receipt that you can take to the post office. They’ll exchange it for a key that opens up a mailbox where you can get directions for finding out the gate combination, but first, call this guy.”

She called the guy, but he doesn’t answer on Sundays, so never mind. We headed back to our old spot and found a place away from the main anchorage over a sand bar. It took poor Maryanne two tries before it set. I had been sitting at the helm since the first pass through the anchorage and I was getting to where I couldn’t even sit up straight enough to see over the instruments. As soon as we were sure the anchor was set, Maryanne ordered me back in the boat. The poor thing had to do everything herself but, as always, she didn’t complain and was more worried about me.

Our next day near but not too near Waterford ended up being another howling, rainy gale that made the prospect of rowing out into it particularly unappealing, particularly with my sore back, so we had yet another day in wondering if we were ever going to be able to get out and see Ireland or if it was just going to be a series of rainy places where we see livestock flying by out the windows. We did get to see some deer grazing on the shore just before sunset. Later on, they were gone. I can only assume the wind got them.

Youghal to Dungarvan

[Kyle]The weather the morning of our next leg to Dungarvan dawned clear and bright. Ah, yes, another pretty summer day. By the time the coffee was made, it was getting gray and cold, by the time we pulled up the anchor, it had started to rain. The anchor! Oh, yes. Maryanne was up at the bow cranking away as she usually does but, eventually, it became too difficult for her and she asked to switch. We had a wind against current situation and I was reluctant to put the boat into gear as our trip line float was lingering dangerously next to our prop. As I got cranking, it became apparent that I was fighting more than the current. We seemed to be stuck on something. We only had about 20’ of chain retrieved and it was already going straight down. Not a huge deal, sometimes we get wrapped around a clump of weed or something. Every now and then I would strain and crank and something would give and I’d get a little slack. Eventually, after cranking right at the limit of my strength, I got the anchor just below the bow roller. It and the rest of our chain were attached with a Gordian knot to a fairly large outboard motor.

Since we were effectively adrift, we took Footprint into deeper water in order to work the problem out away from the moored boats. We managed to cut away and unthread the trip line, but there was no way that I could see dealing with the rest of it without either getting it in the dinghy, which I was not about to do, or heaving the whole mass onto the deck, which I could not figure out how to do. I cannot begin to describe how exhausting untying a giant knot made out of chain with an anchor on the end while hanging half off the boat with Maryanne sitting on my legs acting as counterweight can be. My arms felt like they were made out of rubber for an hour afterwards. Yeah, goodbye and good riddance to Youghal harbor.

Once we finally got out to sea, we were running late from the big anchor kerfuffle but, fortunately, we had a nice strong wind from behind and were soon back on schedule to get to Dungarvan during the higher half of the tide cycle. The weather continued to deteriorate until we were eventually sailing through a featureless, cold gray drizzle. Even though we were less than a mile from the coast for most of the way, it would only reveal itself as a barely perceptible change in the level of gray in that direction from time to time. It felt like the Pacific Northwest in the winter. It never broke 60 degrees Fahrenheit. Where was summer? Yuck!

When we reached Dungarvan we found our way up the winding channel by spotting the buoys on radar before we could see them. The shallow harbour is bisected by a long sand spit that all of the water must squeeze through during tidal changes. This has scoured out the only part of the harbour in which it is deep enough to anchor. The area is a roiling collection of eddies, whirlpools and standing waves. We were expecting that it may be necessary to take the ground at low tide but very carefully managed to pick out a pot that was barely deep enough to stay afloat at low tide and had adequate swinging room. We backed down on the anchor and it seemed set well, but when I went forward to help Maryanne, we started dragging. Damn!

Just then we heard a guy yelling at us from shore. He must’ve had lungs like Pavarotti to be able to be heard over both the wind and the engine half a mile away. After we got the anchor back aboard, we carefully eased up to shore to find out what he wanted. He directed us to his mooring, which he said he wouldn’t need for a couple of days. After we got settled in, I rowed over to thank him and get more information about the mooring. His name was Brian. He was friendly although in a low key, Maine kind of way. He said the other end was a big concrete block and that we should stay afloat if we didn’t draw too much, all in an accent that was so thick I could barely understand him. Thanks Brian.

Later that night, I got up as low tide approached and found only us and two other boats afloat, the rest canted over like discarded toys in a sandbox. Brian’s mooring was on a slope. The outgoing current had pulled us over deep water for low tide and shallow water for high tide, leaving us no less than 3’ the whole time.
The following morning, we were all raring to get up and take an excursion ashore to see Dungarvan until it started raining again – really hard. It’s amazing how that will kill your motivation to go for a stroll. Maybe later.

Drive Leg Fix

[Kyle]We had previously reported that we thought one of the reasons that our autopilot motor failed was because of the strain of unsticking the drive leg from its flopped-over state at certain points of wheel travel. This is my super-simple solution and it works great. It is merely two lines, one from each side, led from the bottom of the inboard step rails to the ring on the drive leg. I used a bowline to attach the lines to the drive leg ring below the steering lines, which pull to the top when the drive leg is down. On the rail end I used a rolling hitch to get the tension just right. With the drive leg down, the wheel is turned to the stop in one direction and the opposite line is tightened until all the slack is out. When the leg is lifted, the lines tighten and pull the drive leg far enough to the center to keep from making metal to metal contact with the transom piece and slackens the steering lines, thus eliminating the sticking and reducing the load on the autopilot and steering system.

Exploring Lismore

Lismore Public gardens, and the Castle
[Kyle]On Maryanne’s parents’ last day with us, we all met up in the morning and headed to the pretty little village of Lismore. Lismore was founded in 636 A.D. by St Carthage as a monastic university and has understandably had a lot of history in the 1473 years since. We started the day with a film and a tour around the Heritage Center. If you go, skip the film, unless you need a nap. From there, we took a walk to see both St Carthage’s cathedrals (Church of Ireland and Catholic). After that, we drove up to a winding, tree covered road to a trail leading up to a folly whose name I can’t remember. The story was that the intent was to build the biggest castle around but they never got beyond the gates, which are pretty impressive, themselves. They are buried in the woods along a path that looked to me almost exactly like a Giant Redwood forest, minus the big trees. The weather was beautiful and for the first time in Ireland, I wore shorts all day, happy to see that summer had finally arrived.


Folly Gatehouse and Bridgehouse, the owners were out of money before main house never got built

On the way back, we found a place to pull off to view the very impressive Lismore Castle. It is not possible to go inside unless you have the 4,000 Euro fee and book in advance as it is currently the private residence of the 12th Duke of Devonshire. Previously, it had had been the residence of Walter Raleigh and several generations of Boyle’s, including Robert Boyle, the Father of modern chemistry. Standing on cliffs above the Blackwater River, it is a very impressive piece of architecture. Maryanne’s father managed to find a path that ran right down to the opposite bank, where we could crane our necks and marvel at its size.

After that, we had a quick cup of tea at a little café run by a woman who was having a good time ribbing us about staying after closing time and telling us that the cake we ordered is, of course, delicious, but not as nice as the one’s we passed up.

Maryanne’s parents had to catch their plane back to England so we got back to Youghal for an early dinner and then bid farewell to them. The current was still running strong for another hour or so we used the time to make yet another vain attempt to find an internet connection before finally giving up and heading to the store for some groceries to get us through the next few days.

Exploring Youghal

Scenes from Historic Youghal
[Kyle]Day 3 in Youghal (remember, pronounced Yawl) found us rowing ashore again in the same max ebb current but less wind. I was able to just barely make headway against it if I rowed as hard and fast as I could. I could only spare five or ten degrees in the direction of shore. Any more than that and we were losing ground, which I did not want to do as the only landing spot available upstream of the kid’s swimming pool was just abeam Footprint. After about 20 minutes of maniacal rowing, we managed to get within throwing distance of shore under the unflinching gaze of a young guy sitting on the quay with a brooding look on his face. Just as I started my last heroic push to get around the last obstruction, one of our oars broke in two, with the paddle half floating slowly away from us as we both drifted downstream. The guy on the quay seemed satisfied that we were drifting away and that his privacy wouldn’t be disturbed after all. He didn’t know who he was looking at Mr & Mrs Preparedness. In one quick, fluid motion, Maryanne reached over the stern, opened a compartment and pulled out our backup emergency oar, which we installed in seconds. After a quick trip to pick up the floating half-oar, I resumed our big push upstream, hindered by the fact that the backup oar has a smaller paddle and a shorter reach. Eventually, after another 5 minutes or so, we fetched up on our original target. The brooding guy , looking dejected, just got up without saying a word and wandered off, leaving us to heave the boat up onto dry land, safe above the high tide line. This time we both had full foul weather gear, including sea boots, and regular walking shoes to change into.

Maryanne’s parents had an eventful morning as well. They ended up stuck in Cork traffic and ended up taking a much longer route, then they got stopped by the police, who were searching everybody looking for a suspect. Once we determined that they would still be a while, Maryanne and I went to the tourist office and decided to take a guided walking tour of Youghal. The two young women at the tourist office had a good laugh when we asked them if there was anywhere we could store our ‘moon suits’ while we went a guided walking tour of the town. Apparently, that doesn’t happen much. The tour focused primarily on its 12th-16th century architecture, much of it still in use today and in good condition. During that time, Cork harbour was besieged by pirates, so most of the commerce moved to nearby Youghal, which was walled in for protection. The harbour itself, being not much more than the mouth of a big river, offered pirates no places to hide in order to ambush ships.

Once we all did finally meet up, we all went to Fox’s Lane Folk Museum. What a wonderful time we had! The museum is a one man, one room operation on a side road with a very carefully selected collection of everyday household items from the early 19th to the mid 20th centuries. I know this probably doesn’t sound that interesting but the thing that made it so wonderful was the owner, Pat Lynch. He gave us a guided tour, explaining what each item was. He had great enthusiasm. He would open up cabinets and hand things to us to touch and hold, asking us to guess what it was and showing us how to use it. He played us an eighty year old record on a hundred year old Victorola and showed us the first television ever to be sold in Ireland, which had no channel knob as Ireland only had one station. He ended the tour in a re-creation of a traditional Irish kitchen with one whole wall being the hearth and cooking fire. Actually, it was the whole traditional one room Irish house. Actually, it was a reproduction of the house he grew up in. Then, just as we were getting ready to leave, he offered us tea and we all sat at the dinner table talking about what life was like for people before electricity, before plumbing, etc. It was fascinating. Maryanne and I, living a very low consumption lifestyle, found ourselves wishing that a lot of the pre-electric labour saving devices were still available. There were a lot of really cool household devices back then that were operated by hand crank.

Sitting down for Tea in a 1950's Irish Kitchen - YES, I did say 1950's. Although not everyone lived like this, one room homes, without electricity, were still not uncommon in the countryside
After that, we all drove out to the lighthouse and for a walk on the beach. In one place on the rocks under the lighthouse, a diving board has been installed with a sign that says “use at high tide only”. We then went to a pub and then dinner before getting back to Footprint before the current got too bad again. As soon as we got back, Maryanne had the drill and the rivet gun out and our broken oar was good as new.

[Maryanne]Yet again we find ourselves in a place where we continue with both English and World history lessons, but way more fun than school! Youghal has an amazing history and has been the (temporary) home of great historic figures such as Oliver Cromwell and Sir Walter Raleigh among many others. The river/mooring/anchorage opportunities have been the only negative; we understand there are plans to build some sort of Marina, but the Earl of Devonshire still holds huge sway in the area, and it seems he is not so keen... time will tell.

Whiskey and Wildlife

[Kyle]We got up for the row to meet Maryanne’s parents the next day. Once we left Footprint, Maryanne remembered that she hadn’t brought her shoes. She was expecting to get wet landing the dinghy so was wearing sea boots and was intending to change later. I found that I could not row against the wind and the ebb current in order to get back. We ended up tying up to a wall well downstream, making a mental note that we absolutely had to get back before the next flood ended or we’d have 6 more hours to wait. Maryanne had to wear her sea boots all day, which kept causing me much hilarity as I would forget and then see her in an otherwise normal outfit and those big, blue sea boots!

Our first stop of the day was the Jameson Distillery in Midleton, where we took the full tour followed by the sample at the end. I had never had Irish Whiskey before. It’s quite different from Scottish Whisky. It is much smoother but with none of that lovely smoky flavour. It would be pretty hard to mistake one for the other and I can see the virtues of each. The tour was just a little heavy on the marketing, though, practically saying that John Jameson was the greatest man that ever lived who made the most important contribution to the human endeavour in the history of all time, complete with cheesy, Wide World of Sports music.


Who cares a bout footwear after a drop or three of whiskey?

Jameson Whiskey Distillery Tour
Following the distillery (Maryanne’s Dad skipped his sample) we went to the FOTA Wildlife Park. FOTA is an open air zoo that, except for a few dangerous predators, manages by keeping compatible species together out in the open with minimal enclosures. Many of which were separated from the public by nothing more than the same space separating the public from each other. Lack of fences and the ability to get in close made it easy to get some good photos. At the end of the day the park keeps its cheetahs in shape by feeding them from a high speed line they have to chase down, which was a big crowd pleaser.


Monkeys at Fota Wildlife Park - there are plenty of them!


Just some of the other animals at Fota
We got back to Youghal and managed to get dinner finished just before slack water. It turned out that the deserted spot we picked to tie up the Pudgy was where all the town kids go swimming in the afternoon. They were pretty good about leaving it alone but we did have about 2” of water in the bottom from being too close to all the cannonballs. They were good sports, though and helped push us off for the long upwind (but not up current) row back to the bouncy Footprint.

Daysail to Youghal

Lighthouses on route from Crosshaven to Youghal - Ballycotton Island and Youghal lights
[Kyle]It was time for us to get moving again so we left the helpful guys at Salve with some of their favourite beer as a thanks and headed up the coast to Youghal (pronounced ’yawl’). The weather forecast was supposed to be West at about 16 knots. We saw that and all the way up to 30. The same thing happened the day before. It seems that Irish forecasts have to be doubled. On the way out of Crosshaven, we saw the RNLI (Royal National Lifeboat Institute) rushing out to save a kid in a dinghy who had blown a spinnaker to shreds and then capsized in the main harbour. They were still out in it in dinghies. Most of the rest of the fleet sailed home under full sail like it was just a regular day in the harbour. After all, it was only blowing Irish 15! On the way out, we spotted the poor kid’s rudder and reported the obstruction to the Coast Guard, who later recovered it.

Once in the open sea, our Irish 15 gave us a very fast trip. We spent a significant amount of time in the 8 – 10 knot range and even saw 13.3 – a new record for us. Just before we put in yet another reef to counter the ever increasing wind, we were visited by a couple of huge dolphins! This pair really seemed to enjoy our speed and kept crossing our bows at right angles before veering away for another pass. Our hulls are 10 feet apart and these dolphins were at least a couple of feet longer than that. They got bored and left when we turned into the wind and virtually stopped in order to reef the mainsail and left us to ourselves for the rest of the trip to Youghal.

When we reached the harbour at Youghal, we found it to be pretty but poorly protected. We made sure the anchor was well set and then spent the night bouncing around as if we were out at sea anyway.

Sailing with the Parents

Parents go sailing... Smiles despite the rain
[Kyle]We were up early the next morning for a sailing tour of Cork Harbour in the newly Bristol Footprint. As it had been for the entire week, the weather was pleasant one minute, cold, rainy and windy the next. We started by going out into a pretty rough open sea for a look at a couple of lighthouses. Maryanne’s parents took that much better than expected. After that, we did a downwind sail all the way into Cork, passing the pretty little town of Cobh (pronounced ‘cove’), with its enormous cathedral, finally getting to see some of the familiar sights from the water. We even got to see a lone seal way up there. On the way back to Crosshaven, we took a side trip and headed through the lovely canyon of the East Passage around Cobh before Maryanne’s Dad steered us home.


Sights on route - Cobh and the BlackRock Castle on the River Lee

Sightseeing - Cork Proper!

[Kyle]The next day, we decided to have a proper look at Cork. Since we all now knew the place like the back of our hands, we were much more successful at finding what we wanted. We started with a tour of the Cork City Gaol, a vivid account of what a nineteenth century jail must’ve been like. From there, we went to the Cork Heritage Centre to look at their beautiful gardens and exhibits about the city’s history. We went back into the heart of town to the English Market, where practically every food item you could think of was for sale by somebody.

Cork Old Gaol

Cork "English Market"
Afterward, we headed to the dog track for dinner and greyhound racing. This was my first trip to a dog track ever and I had a great time. The food was very good, the races were entertaining and we won a ton of money. Well, a little money. Like people that go to Las Vegas, we completely disregard how much we originally bet when counting our meagre winnings. I guess, if you figure that in, we lost a little money. Then there was the meal, which was very good but was also one million dollars, so it turned out to be a pretty expensive night out but it was a lot of fun.

Dinner at the dogs!
When we got home, we found that the local Raymarine supplier had delivered a new autopilot motor and left it on the boat, cool!

Sightseeing with the Parents

Maryanne's Parents, Peter and Sandra
[Kyle] The next day, the four of us (Me, Maryanne, and her parents) got an early start for a drive into Cork to see the sights. Since Maryanne's parents had rented a car, we got a little sidetracked in the morning trying to get a few things that Maryanne and I would have had a hard time getting on the bus. Not much in the way of sights, but it was so nice to clear off almost everything on our list.

After that, we headed into Cork, which, we found out, is the only way you can go in Cork (i.e hard to get out again). Cork town centre has a genuine Hotel California road system. The roads take you where they want you to go, not where you want to go. We would see some promising thing and decide to stop only to be herded completely out of the area, then re-herded back in half an hour later with virtually no idea what happened in between. I was in the front passenger seat with a map on my lap but it was practically useless. Every time I would say to go left at the next road, we would get there to find no left turn was allowed, or it was a one way street the wrong way or it was closed for some other reason. Okay, then, we’ll just go straight and turn at the next left. Nope. Can’t do it! Everybody has to go right. Damn! That’s where we just came from! In this way, we spent a diverting afternoon learning the Cork road system by going completely the opposite direction from the way we wished on every single road in Cork.
St Finbarre's Cathedral, Cork
Eventually, through much determination, we did actually manage to find and, the second time around, successfully stop at St Finbarre’s Cathedral. Wow! The place is absolutely enormous and every single corner of it is decorated with the most beautiful art of the most painstaking detail. It was absolutely stunning.

Afterwards, we finally figured out how to get out of Cork and returned to Footprint for a late dinner.

Our next day in Crosshaven was a work day. Maryanne’s parents came over for breakfast and were kind enough to help us get the boat back into shape. After a few days of stalling, Ronnie finally got the rail done. Even though he had the weld done right away on the first day, it turned out that he didn’t want to give it back to us until he polished it. It looks like a completely new rail. The weld is completely invisible. The work is beautiful. Same with our helm seat track, same with everything else we gave him. Maryanne’s Dad helped me get the rail back on and retune the rig afterwards. Maryanne and her Mom did most of the inside list. Afterwards, we all went to the Royal Cork and Munster Yacht Club for dinner. The RC&MYC is the oldest Yacht Club in the world and they are very gracious to visiting yachties, even those who are not actually staying in the club’s marina, such as us. No blue blazer required. We got a lovely meal for about half of what it costs everywhere else in the area all aglow in the knowledge that Footprint was almost back in good order.

Our next day, since we had a car, we all agreed to do some driving to some of the places we had been before that Maryanne’s parents hadn’t seen while taking the inland route that Maryanne and I haven’t seen. What a beautiful part of the country this is. Everything is so picturesque. Winding roads bound by hedges and stone walls meander up and down green hills, occasionally plunging through a tunnel of green in thick woods.

Drombeg Standing Stones, similar structures are all over Ireland
Our first stop was the standing stones at Drombeg, a prehistoric stone circle and cooking site. From there we went into Skibbereen and toured the Famine Museum. Skibbereen was the epicentre of the horrible potato famine in the mid 19th century. Next was lunch at our old hangout, Bushe’s Bar in Baltimore, followed by a walk around the beacon at the head of Baltimore Harbour, this time in better weather. After that, we headed back, but not without having a quick look at Lough Hyne, Ireland’s first marine sanctuary and Charles’s Fort in Kinsale. We finished the night with fish and chips from the place in Crosshaven that’s always packed, always a good sign.

Scenes From the County Cork Country side