Today, we finally
got to the part of the trip that I had been looking forward to since long
before I even went to Ireland. We made
the hour and a half drive down toward Cork to the small town of Blarney. And it was there that we went to Blarney
Castle. The castle was pretty cool,
situated on a rock and well laid out. On
the inside, there wasn’t much to it, just a hollowed-out shell. But my aim was situated at the top of the
castle in the skirting wall…the Blarney Stone.
The trek up the
narrow winding staircases was pure torture.
Not because it was narrow and dark and steep. Not because the steps rose endlessly story
after story. It was torture because
my wife chose this moment to display a psychological condition that I wasn’t
even aware that she possessed. In
scientific terms, it’s called acrophobia.
In layman’s terms it’s called fear of heights. When I tell you that we were traversing the
castle in an enclosed staircase, it might seem as odd and absurd to you as it
was to me why she should have a fear of heights. Claustrophobia (fear of enclosed spaces) I could
see, but fear of heights?! So, a trek
that should have taken about 10 minutes ended up taking over an hour. We had to stop every few steps so she could
get her blood pressure down because she kept hyperventilating. When we finally reached the top, she was so
terrified of the view that she planted herself in a narrow walkway, back on one
wall and hands on the other, and refused to go on. I finally managed to coax her over to the
Blarney Stone, but she nearly broke my hand with the death grip she had on
me. All of this struck me as profoundly
hilarious. Not because I’m insensitive
to my wife’s plight, but because I am usually the one with a paralyzing fear of
heights. But today, I had no issues at
all.
Anyway, back to the
goal. We made it to battlements running
along the top of the castle and over to where the famed stone was
situated. There was a man sitting near
it ready to assist any would-be travelers who wanted to kiss the stone. I eagerly bounded over, smiling from ear to
ear. This was a chance of a
lifetime. One of the top 100 things to
do before you die. Legend has it that
whosoever kisses the Blarney Stone will have the gift of eloquent speech, and here
I was about to achieve it! I was about
to put my lips where millions of people have put their lips before me; some of
the greatest lips in human history…Winston Churchill, Laurel and Hardy, and
Mick Jagger. I was about to put my lips
on TripAdvisor’s Most Unhygienic Tourist Attraction in the World…and according
to James, I’d probably get mono.
(Hmmm…after thinking about this a little bit, maybe this wasn’t such a
good idea.)
But I would not be
deterred by this, so I laid down on the cold, hard battlement, reached back,
grabbed the iron bands wrapped around the castle wall, leaned back, and planted
one on that cold, dirty, blue-black stone.
And I have a picture and a certificate to prove it!
I’m happy to say
that the going down wasn’t as bad as the going up. My wife must have been sensing that the
ground was getting closer, so she picked up steam the further down we
went. You might guess that that is all
there is to tell about Blarney Castle, but you’d be wrong. That isn’t even the best part.
Surrounding the
castle are some of the most beautiful grounds and gardens I have ever
seen. Acre upon acre of trees, green
grass, flowers and cultured gardens, rivers, waterfalls, and even a poison
garden. But the place that did it for me
was the Rock Close. It was a mystical
place of huge boulders under giant trees with Druid Caves, Witch Stones, and
the Three Wise Men. And down near the
back were the famous Wishing Steps.
Legend has it that whosoever walks down the Wishing Steps backwards with
their eyes closed will always have their wishes come true. Of course we both went down, me nearly
falling off into the waterfall at the bottom before I knew I was at the end.
I wished I could
live out the rest of my days on that land, so beautiful it was, but eventually
we got kicked out. We headed over to the
Castle Hotel Bar for a late lunch of an incredible roast beef and vegetable
soup before going to the Blarney Woolen Mills for a little bit of
shopping. The Blarney Woolen Mills is
known as the largest Irish shop in the world, and with three floors of Irish
everything, I can attest that it’s probably true.
It started to get
dark after this, so we headed back to Limerick.
Realizing that everything would be closed again, we just decided to have
dinner in the hotel restaurant again.
There isn’t a large selection of choices, so I had the tagliatelle
again. This time, the bartender turned
on a championship rugby match between Worcester and Gloucester, so I spent the
meal explaining the finer points of rugby as I don’t understand them…while she
pretended to humor me while really playing games on her phone.
Blarney was the best
way to end our trip! I’m glad we saved
it for last.
