An aside: You may have heard all the brouhaha about the launch of Microsoft's new search engine, Bing (I guess nobody else thinks of White Christmas and Bob Hope when they hear that name?). Since Darling Husband is part of the family, we decided to try its navigation feature out. How long would it take to get to Waterford, and what was the recommended route? In a head-to-head with the great G, little B took us south toward Tullow, then past New Ross and to Waterford, and then past it, up the River Suir another 30 km to a small village of the same name. Clearly, there are still a few bugs to work out.
Our targeted attraction was not light-catching dust collectors, but the Waterford and Suir railway, a narrow gauge restored line that would take us on a 40-minute scenic ride along the river. There were a few attractions along the way back that we hoped to see as well, to break up the drive.
With Alfred released from the office a wee bit early (it was a Friday, after all), off we headed, south to County Carlow. We were headed for a hostel beat New Ross, similar to the digs in Omagh. To change things up a bit, I took the wheel, and let my life partner in crime navigate, which meant far more little white lines, and fewer thick red ones--or even middle-sized yellow ones. We also had trusty Peter with, and between the map and the book, we only had to double back three times before we found a place to park the car so we could explore Ballymoon castle and refuel the starving teenager.
Characterized as an "unusual fortress" by Peter, the place was enormous, with the remains of the walls revealing thick walls and evidence of many rooms, some with quite elegant proportions.
With our destination still a bit of a ways off, we decided to stop for a meal in the next town big enough to have a pub with food. Duiske fit that bill, and despite the challenging parking situation, found ourselves in a cozy pub with a lanky waiter and tasty food. Even better, it sported a handsome bridge, and featured a quite tasty sticky toffee pudding.
We arrived at the hostel just a bit before bedtime, and were greeted by a peat fire to reward us for our perseverance, for it laid at the end of an excruciatingly long dirt track that threatened both the side mirrors and the exhaust system of the car (they both survived, thankfully). The hostel sported a power shower, a chess set and a resident rooster who came to beg at the kitchen window when he smelled toast.
The next morning, we headed out bright and early (after that classic hostel meal, baked beans on toast). Through the town of New Ross, where we stopped to peek at the Dunbrody Emigrant Ship, a tall elegant old lady moored in the river.
The wide spot of Kilmeadan boasts a thatched-roof pub and the terminus for the Waterford and Suir River Railway, a serious little narrow-gauge railway that is holding its own against the adjacent motorway construction. While the weather went from cloudy to very wet, the coachman described the sights along the way as well as future plans and past history for the railway. It was by all measures, delightful, and much drier than traipsing around stone ruins in the rain.
We really didn't want to traipse around stone ruins in the rain, but when we got to Jerpoint Abbey, it was still pouring. But I wasn't about to miss out on what Peter calls "undoubtedly one of the finest Cistercian monastic ruins in Ireland." Borrowing an OPW (Office of Pubic Works) umbrella, we braved the wetness to follow the informative guide and view the exquisite carvings in the most "excellently reconstructed" cloister.
The easiest thing would have been to speed home directly, but the straightest way took us past one of our favorites, the high cross at Moone. The master of this cross never fails us, using simple gestures in a coarse medium to suggest complex stories. Remember the story of the loaves and fishes? It's here.
Alfred headed up to the airport the next day to farewell to his godson the following day. The number of visitors on the docket is down to two!
