Day 3: Land of the Midnight Sun

This is one of a series of entries from my travel journal during my recent trip to Europe. You can click here for the archived entries.

Day 2 | Day 4

Baltimore, West Cork, The Republic of Ireland 08/06/08

I was awakened around noontime this morning by a persistent banging. It took me a few minutes to wake up from my deep slumber, but I finally jerked awake. At first I thought it was my Mom having returned from a morning of photography and forgotten her key. I ran downstairs and saw my uncle's face through the front door. They had arrived! I welcomed my aunt, uncle, and cousin to Baltimore and it was a bit of a déjà vu of cranky, tired, complaining travelers (as my Mom and I had been exactly the day previous). They regaled me and Mom (she returned soon after their arrival) with tales of their hairy travels from Shannon. It's a rite of passage for travelers flying into that airport I suppose. We had a chuckle at the similarities in our respective travails.

Our landlord, Bob Clarke, came by to pick up the security deposit and give us some info about the heat, showers, and some recommendations on local eateries, grocery stores, and sights. I then went out with Mom for a stroll around Baltimore. It's a small fishing town that's a popular destination for both the Irish and foreign tourists. There's a quaint town center overlooking the harbor. Sailing, water sports, cruises to islands in Roaringwater Bay, and other seafaring activities are what draw so many here. The scenery with the colorful little buildings on the water, surrounded by hills, with islands out in the distant bay, is beautiful (the enormous rusting skeleton of a dockyard building directly across the street from us notwithstanding).

While my relatives recovered, Mom and I decided to do some walking and photography around town. First we strolled down a path near the cottage to the Lifeboat Station, which is supported and run entirely by donations and volunteers. It's a small white building sitting on the beach overlooking the back inlet of Baltimore Harbor. We walked all along the beach, snapping some great pics of sailboats moored offshore, rusting derelict hulks run aground at low tide, and wonderful views of pretty little houses perched up on the surrounding hills, with the omnipresent fog rolling over the hilltops. We then walked through the town center and out to the Baltimore Beacon, about a 30 min. walk up into the hills just past the harbor entrance, looking out onto the Atlantic.

The Beacon itself is a squat stone tower, probably some 30 ft. high, that's simply been whitewashed (the last paint job was some time ago judging from the peeling). It sits high on this rocky promontory that is just absolutely majestic. The fog had rolled in thick and covered the top of the surrounding hills; sailboats and jet skis could only just be made out as they shot the gap in the straits below; across the way one could just make out a lighthouse perched on an even higher peak on Sherkin Island across the narrows. On either side of the Beacon were sheer cliff faces falling into sheltered coves covered in the slate or shale that comprises the shoreline of the area. It was windy, slightly chilly, but with the sun peeking through every so often. The lush, green hillsides; the path up bordered by stone walls; the dense fog rolling in and out was so mysterious - it felt otherworldly, fairy tale-like (or at least as if I were on a movie set). Several times Mom mentioned how easy it would be to "accidentally" push someone off the cliff. I made sure to not turn my back to her when I was near the edge, in case I had made one driving crack too many.

As we strolled back to town I was struck by a sudden headache and hunger pangs. Despite its being in and out all afternoon, the sun had done a Rudolph job on my face (I often get headaches from sun overexposure). This was undoubtedly compounded by lack of food and Guinness (up until now I had a mere tuna fish sandwich and some cheese, crackers, soda bread and a banana in a day and a half on the Emerald Isle). Time for some serious noshing. I also had yet to have my first pint of the Black Stuff - I had purchased a six-pack of bottles at the store in Skibbereen to keep at the house but they were the extra stout (good but not the draught). They were also tiny 250ml bottles, which somehow I failed to notice when I bought them. They were like those bottles they give you on airplanes. So I was fiending. We made it back and met up with the rest of the folks - to La Jolie Brise in the town center for dinner!

Right above the harbor, the town center is dominated by an outdoor patio serving several nearby establishments. La Jolie Brise was one that caught our eye. I had the most amazing mussels - a truly gigantic bowl of the mollusks swimming in a broth of white wine, onions, garlic, and what I would conservatively estimate to be several pounds of butter. A bowl of tasty chips (french fries) accompanied it. Possibly the best mussels I've ever eaten. Tender, fresh, delicious, and rich in that heavenly broth (so heavenly that I found myself dipping everything in it that would take to it - chips, pizza crusts, etc.). We ordered a couple pizzas as well - decent but nothing earth-shattering. A sauvignon blanc went very nicely with the mussels. My cousin and I picked up a couple ice cream bars from Cotter's next door for dessert (he opted for Twix; I Snickers) while my uncle picked up the bare essentials: bars of soap and a bottle of Côtes du Rhône. We headed back to the house - my Mom and aunt were bushed, as was I. My uncle and cousin went walking around as I drifted in and out of consciousness on the living room couch. As it was getting close to sunset I decided to rally and head out. I met my uncle and cousin on the way back into town; Liam went back while Staley and I headed to Bushe's Bar to grab a pint and watch the sunset. It was a brilliant way to end the day. That first pint of Guinness was pure magic, poured into a perfect head after the lengthy but necessary two-part pouring process. We grabbed one of the wooden beer barrel tables and chatted and sipped our pints while we watched the sundown.

An interesting thing about Ireland, and one that escaped me during my first visit (or perhaps I plumb forgot) is that it stays light here very late. One could still see spots of orange in the cloudy sky well after 10PM, and it was light for some time thereafter. Even as I write this at around 12:30 in the morning, the sky possesses a dim glow. We are close to the same latitude here as Alaska. Did you know that? I certainly did not.

The plan tomorrow is to take a ferry out to one of several islands out in Baltimore Harbor. Clear Island is rumored to be more scenic and the largest by far of all the islands (it is home to an Irish school for children & adults), whereas Sherkin Island has ruins of a fort and friary and "a bit of a pub scene" according to Bob Clarke. I think I know which one I'll prefer.