Day 7, 17 May 2012

On the sixth day we stayed close to the cottage, though that didn’t mean there wasn’t a lot to see.  In the morning we went to Glendalough, a fifth century monastery established, more or less accidentally by Saint Kevin.  He ran off into the mountains to live as a hermit and was joined by others, of a similar bent.  Eventually the community grew into a full scale monastery.

The bell tower at the monastery.

This site is extraordinarily beautiful.  It is located deep in the Wicklow mountains, with peaks on each side.  The long valley has two lochs in it, the larger one 1.6 km from the monastery.  The two most distinctive features are the 100ft bell tower, which wasn’t used for defense, despite the fact that its door is 12 feet off the ground.  The other is the church.  There is a large graveyard in the grounds of the former monastery.  The gravestones date from, some illegible date in the past to 2003.

What it looked like in its heyday.

A closeup of the central section, now the graveyard.

Another view of the tower.  It's 100 feet tall and deserves to be seen more than once.

We watched a short film (fil-lim) about the monastery.  The boys were promised a scary part where the Vikings attacked and were very disappointed when that didn’t happen.  Rhys informed me that the movie was not as good as the Lord of the Rings.  We looked at the exhibits.  I spent a good few minutes admiring the model, which I coveted as wargaming terrain.

Some of the scenery. 

The tower from down the road.  It really does dominate the valley.

The church with the tower in the background.

The door of the tower.  It is twelve feet above the ground.

 Following the museum we guided our steps towards the monastery.  I recommended that we go to the right rather than the recommended way, to the left, as that way we would get to enter through a gate.  We also discovered carts selling ice cream and fish and chips.  We marched up through the gate and into the cemetery.  Much wandering and gaping later, we met up and Tracy and I decided to make the walk to the lake.  Nana and Granddad stayed behind, Nana to sketch and Granddad to take pictures.

The gate to the monastery.

The road to the lake was 1.4 km down and 1.6 back (different paths).  I was hoping to wear the boys out.  As we walked along the rocky path, part way up the slope of the mountain, Rhys fell and scraped off part of the skin on the palm of his hand.  He cried for a minute then was right back in action.  It has been bothering him the last few days, especially when he is holding my hand.   We promised the boys ice cream if they made the walk and were good, which was all the motivation they needed.

The lough (loch).  Very pretty butt stark.

We got down to the lake, took some pictures and moved on.  Both boys took pictures as well.  Saint Kevin used to stand in the freezing cold water of the Loch to mortify his flesh.  It is said that he stood in the waters of the loch for so long that the birds built nests in his outstretched arms.  

We found the bathrooms, everyone went, and we headed back.  The walk back was through the bottom of the valley and was very different from the walk down.  There were some swampy sections, which we were unable to convince Owyn was inhabited by crocodiles.  There were some beautiful yellow flowers along the way, which we have seen all over southern Ireland.  We later found out these are called Furze.

Furze bushes with the small lake in the background.

Nana and Grandad in front of the church.

When we got back to the monastery Nana and Granddad were looking for Nana’s Tilly hat, which she had misplaced somewhere.  Tracy and Owyn headed off on their own while Rhys and I helped look.  After fruitlessly searching the cemetery Granddad went and looked at the museum and found it.  In the meantime, Rhys and I wandered down to the food wagons and found Mama and Owyn, with Owyn happily munching on his ice cream.  I bought Rhys his cone while I got some fish and chips for myself.

Leprechaun Rhys.

Any Owyn.  I have no idea what the face is supposed to be.

This is a cover for the water (uisce) lines.  Very nice and classy.

Nana and Granddad grabbed some chow as well, downed it, with help from the boys and we all walked over to a shop.  Tracy bought us a Christmas tree ornament; we always try to get one when we travel.

Back in the car, we followed the signs to a woolen mill that the ladies had seen and wanted to visit.  We found it with no issues; the Irish are very good at signage when they want to take your money.  Access to the mill was over an old (312 years) single lane, humped back bridge.  Happily there were no other cars coming.  The mill was next to a river, as that is where they got their power (watermill).  Lots of overpriced sweaters, goo gahs and jewelry filled several rooms of the old mill.  I grabbed the boys and we went down by the river and threw grass in the current and watched the water bugs.

This bridge was built when the colonies in America were still a howling wilderness.

1700.  It says so on the sign so it must be true.

Water bug.  The boys were fascinated.

After escaping the mill we drove back to Rathdrum, bought some groceries and headed back to the ranch.  A quick dinner and some relaxing sitting by the fire completed the day.

The main street of Rathdrum.