Jack and Noodles in Eire 2

When we left your heros, we were languishing in our B&B room, trying to digest too much food, waiting for our traveling partners to finish the make up or hair or dissertation writing or whatever it was that was taking them so long...

On the road again, in our rented Opel Vectra. I know what you're thinking, "Wait a minute. You own a car, Whitten." Well, 4 adults and luggage would be a bit much for our 1.2l engine, never mind the trunk space... Besides, it was in the shop getting the ding fixed.

So, on the road again, again. On the road heading directly north to the ancient settlement of Cashel, about an hour and a half's drive (about 60 miles). Cashel is known for the Rock of Cashel, a limestone outcrop that rises above the fields of central County Tipperary. It has been occupied since at least the 4th century A.D. (not a typo ~ that's the 300's, folks), the traditional seat of the Kings of Munster, the southern province of Ireland. At the dawn of the 12th century one of those pretenders to the throne of Munster outwitted his opponents by forcibly taking the Rock and then donating it to the Church, thereby insuring that it's strategicness would never be used against him. And for the next 600 years it was the most important ecclesiastic centre in Ireland. The ruin of that centre is now one of Ireland's most evocative sites, and probably my favourite.

The oldest remains on the Rock are of Cormac's Cathedral and a round tower (the dark ages' bomb shelter), both dating to the 12th century. A massive cathedral was added in the 13th century; a belltower and a keep in the 15th. By the mid 18th century, the Archbishop of Cashel decided that the drafty accomodations on the Rock were a bit out of date (never mind expensive to maintain), he moved the diocese in town, and the buildings mouldered into decay.

See the Rock and other images of Jack and Noodles' visit here. We spent perhaps 2 hours on the Rock, absorbing the history and falling quietly into our own reveries. The place has that effect: everyone talks in whispers, even in the wind in what is essentially an outdoor attraction. We wandered around town a bit afterwards, and found a really cute pub, full of local business types. Jack was perplexed by the fact that his open-faced sandwich was served cold and with shredded cheese. He did however enjoy his Bulmer's cider: a most refreshing afternoon tipple. Slim snarfed his fried scampi, a delectable treat. Also washed down with Bulmer's. My wife, who has not always been about the bacon, enjoyed mightily a BLT. She is now "all about the BLT". Noodles ate something too; not noodles, though.

An afternoon drive through pleasant Tipperary and beautiful Waterford followed. Jack and Noodles found Villa Whittebaugh much to their liking, and kitty welcomed them heartily. As our shipment of furniture has still not arrived, the house is a little barren. The sheets on their bed? New. The pillows on their bed? New. The duvet on their bed? Borrowed (from our German friends around the corner). The towels in the bathroom? Mismatched, but clean.

We walked to our local for dinner, enjoying the best pint of Guinness yet.

Then they went to sleep again. And slept. And slept. And slept. Ok, so did we, but still. Out of the house by the crack of noon, after a hearty repast of PK's home-baked raspberry buns (tasty most!), and we were on our way to Waterford's Copper Coast. See the pics now; hear the story the next time you check-in.

Slainte.