Our Lady's Island and Chour

St. Margarets is on a sort of peninsula. Getting here gave our satnav considerable difficulty and we seemed to drive in circles for a few miles. On the drive in we passed several fingerposts for Our Lady's Island as the largest settlement nearby; an odd name for a village. So today, we got on our bikes to explore.

Augustus Pugin, architect/designer of much of the Houses of Parliament in London, came here to build a local church. He died before it was complete and his son finished the design and construction. The Pugin clan built quite a few Irish churches it seems (Pugin is one of my architectural heroes as it happens).

The village of Our Lady's Island is actually beside the eponymous island also known as Inish. A short causeway leads out to the remains of a gothic church tower. A circuit round the island is an ancient place of pilgrimage leading out into a small lagoon populated with boulders and another low lying island, Sgarbheen. This is one of only 2 nesting places in Europe of the rare Roseate Tern. Other sea birds share the island and the noise emanating from them all was quite amazing.

Lagoon by Our Lady's Island

We continued on to the coastline at Chour, arriving at extensive dunes and a huge beach stretching as far as the eye could see in both directions. Needless to say there was not a sinner about and we had the whole strand to ourselves. To the east were a clutch of windmills and to the west we found the entrance to the lagoon; banks of sand rising several feet high and sculpted by the wind. At this time there was no direct link between the sea and the lagoon, a tall sand bank was blocking one from the other. In the winter when the water level in the lagoon can rise to threaten nearby farm land, a channel is dug to the sea to release the winter waters.

Although the sun was bright and the sky blue, there was a serious wind blowing. Definitely too strong for canoeing but the sea birds were loving it. Taking off from sand bars in the lagoon, chasing each other or trying to hover in the wind pretending to look for fish in the shallows.

Sandbanks at Chour

With an excess of ozone and feeling quite exhilarated, on our way back we discovered a little pub just setting by the roadside begging for our custom. Course we could not refuse enjoying an excellent pint of Guinness and some wonderful food.

Carna

Just below Rosslare is a curious little peninsula. We rolled up into the St. Margaret's site and settled down as it turned out for the next 3 or 4 days. Although we knew we were slowly beginning to relax, we really did need to just stop and do nothing. We had found the perfect place to do just that!

Although well situated as a staging post for the Rosslare ferry - and many over-nighters were evidently just passing through pausing to catch the boat - the surrounding area was just right for what we had in mind.

Carna Pier

Before we had decided all this, we cycled down to the nearby beach and walked along the strand to this quiet little harbour. There is nothing else really here just the miles-long beach (in the back-ground of the photo) and the pier with a few boats. Not even a village. The sun was out, weather clear & warm and just enough going on to keep your eyes interested in staying open.We should have got the canoe out - if we had been bothered...

Wexford Town

Tuesday morning we woke up in Wexford Town. The campsite was across the river which gave a great view of the town stretching along the quayside. Toward the sea end of the quay is a fine statue to commemorate John Barry, credited as the "Father of the American Navy" and round about are the working buildings from the 19th century being repurposed and in most cases refurbished.

Commodore John Barry

Popping up one of the side streets off the quay into the commercial centre of the town and you are in the middle of the bustling, lively shopping streets just about keeping the international look & feel at bay. We accidentally stumbled upon the town's Opera House recently renovated and looking like a fine, modern house of culture. At the very top is a small cafe with panoramic views over the town, across the river and out to sea. Its not difficult to imagine the town when it was a busy seaport; not much has changed for the worse.

Wexford County Hall

As we approached the main entrance to the town circling back to cross the river again, the shops, gaily painted, the train station and the river bridge all reminded me of when we were last here, tripping down from Gorey almost 20 years ago. Wexford really has not changed much at all and the image of castellated entrance to the council offices echoed throughout the county works pretty well as a symbol of the towns relative permanence.

Baltinglass

Next day was a Monday - a proper holiday-day when we could gloat at the rest of the world as folks went about their daily toil. First stop on the itinerary was Baltinglass

Built upon a river or more precisely the town was on one side while the main road south was on the other. The approach was dominated by the ruins of Baltinglass Abbey rising up from the river bank. Not much remains of the abbey structure but the row of stone arches is most striking. We wandered round the site and there is much of interest: parts dating from the 12th century, some fine stone carving and curious burial chambers like the tomb topped by a pyramid (you can just see it in the photo). Beside the abbey remains is a working CofI church dating from the 19th century and quite attractive in its own right. We had dawdled too long amongst the ruins and were getting peckish...

Baltinglass Abbey

Popped into a local second-hand book store for the customary browse, getting provisions in a local supermarket and eventually meeting up for lunch in a neat, busy little restaurant.

Baltinglass: 1798 memorial

In the town "square" stands the first 1798 memorial we would come across. Wicklow and Wexford were the main centres in the south for the Untited Irishman rebellion. Perhaps more committed here than the efforts in the north commemorated in Ballynure cemetery. The revolt failing at the dreadful Battle of Vinegar Hill near Enniscorthy. This monument was erected in 1904 (well before separation) and is dedicated to those who fought in the insurrections of 1798, 1803, 1848 and 1867. After more than 300 years are can we be done with fighting?

Also on the wall of the old townhall - now the local library - was a plaque to a most unusual local fellow: John Thomond O'Brien who journeyed to South America where as a General O'Brien he is credited as a hero of the independence wars of Chile, Argentina, Uruguay and Peru. Quite an achievement for only one man. Odder still, he died in Lisbon, Portugal (Brazil, where Portuguese is spoken, is the only South American country that does not speak Spanish).

Donard

Next morning it was necessary to get Internet access so we retraced yesterday's route to a local house generously offering WiFi access for all the passers-by; I wonder what they made of the campervan manoeuvring for best signal in the road. Business completed, we retired to the village where a sort of cake sale was in progress. Bought way too many delicious cakes, breads, scones, home-made preserves and goodness knows what else. Then set of in pursuit of a cycle race that seemed to be in progress.

Our goal was Glendalough again but as we approached it, there were even more people than the day before so we followed on the main road into the Wicklow Hills. I remembered this for our early days in Dublin when we had come up here one Winter's day with snow on the ground. I had not remembered the spectacular scenery though; we parked in a lay-by half-way up the hill to the Wicklow gap for lunch and enjoyed the silence looking down over the empty valley below. Cyclists were still going by, struggling up the steep hill before the drop on the other-side. There is something entirely decadent or perverse enjoying a strawberry tea while monitoring the cycle race as it passes by in the lowest of low gears. Or maybe we were filing this away as one of our many objectives for our own cycling careers... nah!

Donard Stone Circle

Down the other side and the landscape reverted to more standard fare reminiscent of stud-farm country surrounding Dublin. Our goal was Donard well off the beaten track; a passing MG - with its roof down - even stopped uninvited to make sure we were not lost and give directions. And when we did reach the site, it was at the head of what looked like a glacial valley - steep sides and a flat pasture bottom running off into the distance. Wonders of wonders was the stone-circle set right in the camping field.

There were quite a few vans and tents - even a solitary touring cyclist but somehow we hardly saw anyone. Instead we were beginning to relax properly, reading in the sunshine and watching the birds flit about the place. In the evening we dandered down through the village to one of the local pubs; it was a unexpected experience - full of local people who all seemed to know each other and chittered away. The odd thing was they all spoke with what seemed like broad Dublin accents; perhaps the Billsers are retiring down this way. Course it might be our ears are not tuned in yet.

Roundwood

There is much to see in Wicklow though we were eager to move on and did not really make the most of it.

Our first stop was at Glendalough late in the afternoon. A beautiful day and the park was mobbed with people: locals, tourists and loads of buses full of Italian teenagers or Blue Rinse yankees. We were lucky to find a space to park and most of the time we just pockled about near the visitor centre waiting for the presentation to begin. Did a short cycle but too many people about.

Decided to retire for the evening to Roundwood, quite a formal site and our first introduction - this year anyway - to the "competitive hospitality" of campsite owners. Seems the ITB offer an award for this and our host for the evening was the most recent winner; he demonstrated his ability admirably, up-selling the local area without too much blarney. Being so close to the city, the local area has been the focus of many block-buster movies including the likes of "Braveheart". So much so, there is trail takes you round the county through all the locations featuring in a dozen or more films.

We were tempted, by this and other local attractions. For moment we got on our bikes and cycled round a local reservoir. By now it was getting quite late still there was plenty of heat an light about the day. This was a real summer.

Dublin City Arms

At the end of the reservoir, the water was dammed and passed through several filtration units. This particular  reservoir dated from Victorian times and apart from the extensive stone-work of the dam itself, several nearby houses were of interesting design.The waterworks had been constructed to feed the people of Dublin City as proclaimed by the plaque on the wall wonderfully painted with cannonballs raining down on some unfortunate invader. I find it hard to believe that modern industrial construction will survive as long as these engineering wonderments and even if they do, will they look as interesting and worthy of preservation.

Roundwood Reservoir

The route back, over the dam, took us through the village itself. We paused for a bite to eat in one of the local hostelries - there was quite a choice though its unlikely any of them will be making it into a Michelin guide. Still the Guinness was good, the sun was still up and it was warm enough to sit outside. As good as it gets I reckon.

Glendalough

From Rosstrevor through Dublin to Glendalough
Over the years we have made several attempts to reach Cork:

• once I took the kids down the west coast camping from Donegal, our first visit to Letterfrack; then on to Clare, Bunraty and finally Tralee. It took us two weeks to get this far and we ran out of time pausing only at Cashel before getting home.
• last year (2010) we travelled down the west coast enjoying Dingle and finally reaching Cahirdaniel when the weather closed in and we decided to turn for home; despite travelling the Ring of Kerry we could not see it through the rain and mist

This year we were determined and to make sure we would not hit any delays. Our plan was to travel down the east coast and along the south coast through Waterford. We did do it but there was little time to spare.

Rathlin

Back at Ballypatrick again but our plans this time is to get over to Rathlin for the day. Bad news, roll up on the Saturday and the ferry is booked up for the rest of the day. Booked our place for the next day and retired to the forest park to chill.

Weather is good, a bit blowy going over in the ferry but otherwise fine. The boat is full with people and vehicles, barely a seat to be had. As we disembark, bump into Eammon who has been enjoying the craic the night before. Off we go, cycling to the West light.

As we pass through into the nature reserve and the paved road runs out, we pause for a bite to eat. Plently to see: birds and plants and even some fungi to name check. And as we stare out a the hill across from a little pond, we spot a pair of Irish Red Hares - these are very rare nowadays. We watch them for quite while trying to get one more picture better than the others; sadly the zoom is not quite up to it.

Soon we are at the RSPB office at the top of the West Light. As we approach it, on a distant rock we spot a falcon of some description harassing the sea birds nesting on the cliff.

Down below where the ledge beside the light gives a great vantage over the puffins, fulmars, guillemots and razorbills. Too far for the camera to make much sense but a group of puffins have a burrow closer to the top of the cliff. Pauline is so impressed with the birds we instantly join the RSPB.

We are starting to struggle on the way back; the hills must run in a different direction or maybe the wind is against us now or both. We make it after all with plenty of time to spare; enough to have a beer sitting in the sunshine outside the pub. Even more to dander along toward the old church and catch sight of the seals basking on the shore.