Leinster, Ireland

We got up about 7:30 and, after watching a ring-necked pheasant and a couple of magpies outside our window, decided to go for a walk down the Glenmalure Valley before breakfast. I went out first stepping over the old dog at the bottom of the stairs. It was a cloudy and unexpectedly cold. As Bon joined me the dog accompanied us and was joined by a young dog that was bouncing around the parking lot looking for cars to chase. We retraced our last leg of the previous day, passing the old barracks and at the first pasture we came to saw about 12 immature pheasants. Following a few sheep to the next pasture, we saw three mature ring-necked pheasants with another dozen or so immature young. We followed the road down the valley, but as it was approaching 9:00 a.m., we decided to return to breakfast. Breakfast was in a different room than our dinner of the previous night - a room from the original building of 1801 with recessed windows and old woodwork. We headed out at 9:50 a.m.

The sound of water in Ireland is everywhere. Dripping in a ditch, a gurgling brook, or a torrent crashing down a hillside, it is always present. (The previous day I had said to Bon that we were approaching either a brook or the Cross Bronx Expressway.) We started alongside such a roaring brook, and then quickly turned off to the right to go along and above the Glenmalure Valley. We rose to a point which looked down on our inn and then above the valley itself where a waterfall on the opposite side of the valley fell three or four hundred feet (called the Carrawaystick Brook). The roar reaching across the valley contrasted with a tranquil green farm below.

The trail � wet and boggy � turned up to the saddle between Mullacor and Lugduff Mountains rising steeply up the mountain through a piney forest. At the top it broke out into a gorse field. We had trouble following the trail and continued up where we should have turned right. I turned to Bon after I seeing a marker below us and said jokingly, do you want to go straight to the top. She immediately answered, "Yes." Off we went.

It was steep but not hard going as sheep had grazed the area and left meandering trails. As we mounted it got much colder and much windier when we lost the protection of the forest and hill. At the top of Mullacor there were two cairns. Avoiding large bogs we reached the summit. With my poncho blowing over my head, I dropped the maps out of their plastic cover. Bon retrieved them and took a couple of pictures but quickly began our descent on the other side to use the cover of the spruce trees below to reach to the saddle and trail. The terrain consisted of hillocks of grass and heather interspersed with bogs and moss and we carefully stepped from one clump of grass to another to avoid the bogs. The trail was a boardwalk of two railroad ties covered with chicken wire to prevent slipping � easy footing after our descent. As we walked down through the woods again, we met a young Australian woman, lightly dressed (we were cold with gloves and hats) who was day hiking from Glendalough � the first hiker we had seen (and, as it turned out, the only other hiker on the trail until we reached Djouce Mountain). She walked without a map so shared ours. After a pleasant exchange, we headed down numerous switchbacks through spruce forests with occasional glimpses toward the Glendalough. Beside the road were occasional late blooming pink foxgloves.

As we approached Glendalough, there was a tall evergreen forest followed by a series of waterfalls crashing along the trail. We reached Glendalough a little before 3:00 p.m.

We were hungry, but I suggested that we walk to the end of the lower lake to take a picture while there was some sun above the mountain. I took pictures of this and some of the early stone works and primitive crosses set in a green green lawn. We walked on to a hotel in the tourist pavilion area via a long boardwalk which passed by the conical tower, a noted landmark. In the restaurant there was a busload of Americans having lunch or a late snack. When the place cleared out it was much more pleasant. We had a warming celery soup and then headed out to the tourist office. Outside the office was a young Dutch couple we had seen on the trail coming into Glendalough. I asked where they were headed and they said, Dublin. We asked what time the bus left and they said it was leaving in 20 minutes at 4:15 p.m.

On the spot Bon and I decided to go to Dublin, since I wanted to visit the national library and archives there and this could not be done on the weekend. We decided to do this for a day and then return to Glendalough.

I ran back to the tower and took some pictures of it, St. Kevin�s Church, and the graveyard, then back to catch the bus to Dublin. The bus passed through varied country finally reaching the traffic of the city. The Dutch couple we had met volunteered to take us to their hostel and we walked with them, passing St. Patrick�s Cathedral and some young boys riding horses bareback in the Dublin traffic. At the hostel we were given a tiny room. We dropped our packs and soon left for dinner on Temple Bar Street. Dinner was only fair but we had a lovely bottle of wine and chatted with an English couple � the woman was opinionated but fun. Then a cold walk back to a chilly room in the hostel.