I Flew Across the Ocean to Pet a Sheep

Right around this time of year, I get a little nostalgic. For Ireland. The wet, green land of sheep and beer. And Bailey’s coffee.

I started a life list long before life lists were “in.”

On this life list was “pet a sheep…. a black sheep.”

Don’t ask me why.

And I realize I live in Wyoming, and could have done that here, but I needed to go to where the “real” sheep were.

Years ago, I decided I would travel when I was young.  So…I decided one day we needed to take a trip.  Not just any trip, but a long long trip. So I booked one. To Ireland. And told my husband to pack his bags. That’s the way it works around here. I book. He packs. No questions asked really. So 10 years ago, we went on our first over seas trip.

I owned a smaller camera. It wasn’t digital. I was too old fashioned to be using that fancy new digital stuff. Oh, and I completely didn’t know anything about taking photographs either.  (All the pictures below have been scanned and run through my process…not too shabby for film.)

We had no idea what we were doing. Not one single clue. We had no idea that as soon as we landed we would be so tired that we would sleep through the first day and into the next morning. We had no idea how to drive a car on the wrong side of the road and go through roundabouts over and over and over again. We had no idea that cars would run you off the road, and onto sidewalks and that live stock roamed free everywhere.  We had no idea that salad dressing was actually mayonnaise and waffles were actually hash-browns. We had no idea that it would rain and rain and rain, and we would  buy 5 umbrellas and break them all and we would love it.  But we learned.

Bunratty Castle. The first along our way. The smallest, and yet my favorite. I just like the name Bunratty. I will someday have an animal named after it.  And next to Bunratty Castle was Durty Nellies. One of the most famous bars. The floor is saw dust and the old men speak Gaelic. It might as well have been Arabic to us. But they talked loudly and boisterously. It smelled like a barn on the inside and I wouldn’t have been surprised to see chickens running freely there. But there weren’t.

We drove the ring of Kerry for a couple of days. Staying at places here and there an everywhere. I had made arrangements with the home owners before traveling, so we just needed to be to each destination by each different night. It kept us moving. It was the perfect way to travel there.

Along the way, we of course had to make a stop at Blarney Castle to kiss the blarney stone. We heard terrible things about what the locals do to that stone just because all of the foreigners kiss it… but I did it anyway. I didn’t care and I’m still alive, so it was worth it. (they hang you over the edge of the castle to kiss that damn stone.) It was fall there and the castle was surrounded by the most amazing colors. It’s hard to even describe, because the picture in my mind is so much more beautiful than what I see in these pictures. I think this trip was one of the reasons I wanted to master the camera. I needed the pictures in my head to match the ones I was looking at.

The castle had a moat. I had always wanted to see a moat. It’s very fairytale-ish.

Another stop along the way was the Jameson Whiskey Factory. The process to make Whiskey amazed me. I also was lucky enough to drink whiskey that is only made there. You can’t buy it. It rained the entire time we were there, and I remember being so cold…. until I downed some of that whiskey. I was much better after that.

 

This was the Ashborne house. A crazy old woman named Anne lived there. She was by far my favorite B&B owner of the whole trip. She sat us down and told us story after story after story. And then sent us off to eat at the pub with a bunch of rowdy rugby players.  And then the next day sent us to the Waterford Factory, where I spent everything I could on one small bowl.

All of the shops had wack-a-doo names. Like Biddy’s, or Dungers or Dingley’s. There were some that seemed pretty normal. Tom Cruise used to have the same bar as the one below.

Alfred Snow’s was a unique place to eat. The inside of it was made from pieces of an old boat that sank just outside of the harbor. The crew couldn’t be saved.

Of course, near the end of the trip we saw the cliffs of Moher. I think it was my most fond memory of Ireland. I had invisioned it being romantic there.

It was not romantic.

In fact, I watched my husband  get lifted completely off the ground by wind. And thrown back down.

I crawled to the top to see the cliffs. On my hands and knees most of the way. Got brave enough to stand and take a photo and then crawl back down.

When we got to the nearest town, we were told we shouldn’t have been there and were lucky to be alive.

Yeah, felt kind of superhero-ish after that.

As, with almost all the trips I’ve been on, I wish I would have done more while we were there. We didn’t go to Dublin. We wanted to stay in the country. I would have liked to see Northern Ireland.

Some other day.

Some other trip.

 So, you ask… did you get to pet your sheep.

NO.

They scared the crap out of me over there. They were big!

I pet a black sheep when my son was two.

 On a farm in Wyoming.

It was a baby.

And I got to feed it too.