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 spot 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 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 on 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 out of the 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 Countryside

Starting the (external) Chores

[Kyle]Once we got situated in a slip at Salve Marine in Crosshaven, we went in with our list to see what they could help us with. The owner, a Dutch man with a hint of an Irish accent mingling with his Dutch, told us his name but we never got it. It was something Dutch starting in W that sounded as if it had no consonants. For the sake of discussion, we’ll call him William, which he most certainly isn’t. Maryanne: Actually Kyle never got it, the guy's name is Wietse.

His only employee was a South African man of few words whose name really was Ronnie. The place looked completely ramshackle, but the two could not have been more patient or helpful. We asked where we could get propane filled (our first in Europe). William said to just leave it outside and he would take care of it. American fittings were no problem. The place he took it had adapters for pretty much every kind of fitting. As for the broken rail, he came and looked at it and said if we got it off, Ronnie could do it on the premises. It was pretty much the same with the rest of the list.

Tired from our early start to get the tide, Maryanne and I snuck in an hour nap before tackling all of the work we had to do. Once we got done, we were surprised to see our two propane bottles had already been filled! We got the rail off and Ronnie had it done in less than an hour – sort of. He said he wasn’t done and went home for the night.

Later that evening, Maryanne’s parents arrived from England to congratulate us on our passage and came over for dinner and a catch-up before the evening was over.

Moving on to Crosshaven (Cork area)

Misty coastline of Southern Ireland, County Cork
[Kyle]We got up before sunrise to catch the morning tide out of Kinsale in a thick, windless fog. Not since leaving Maine have Maryanne and I left a harbour without being able to see anything at all along the way. The fog thinned out further from the coast and for just a minute, I thought there was enough wind to sail, but 30 minutes after putting everything out the slatting started to drive me crazy and the sails were furled again for the rest of the journey.



Boats moored at every bend in Owenboy River
We arrived in Cork Harbour and took a quick tour up the Owenboy River. It was packed with moorings for its entire navigable portion. We then stopped at Salve Marina in Crosshaven, where we intended to get through the rest of the repair list from our Atlantic crossing.

Salve has a huge, well equipped machine shop on the premises and the guys were great. We got our propane filled pretty much immediately, even though we had crazy U.S. fittings. We pulled the rail off the stern and they had the thing done within an hour or so (we’ll reinstall it tomorrow). This left us with enough time to go into the village for a quick look around. Everybody there was so nice and helpful.

Kyle feeds the swan that visits us as we arrive at Salve Marine
Now we feel rich again. We have full fuel, full water, full propane, and things are getting fixed. The only down side is that laundromats are almost unheard of in Ireland, so we have to have it done for us. It looks like it’ll be about the price of a decent meal in Kinsale.