Leinster, Ireland

I had a miserable night. Something I had eaten in Dublin didn�t agree with me. It was not much help that the innkeeper�s son played his flute at 10:30 p.m. or that others seemed to be arriving all night.

After a simple breakfast, we were on our way down to Glen da Lach. (This is the Irish spelling; the road signs were predominantly in the English spelling but the pronunciation was generally the Irish.). We bought a small brochure at the Tourist Center and saw most of the structures of the monastic site including the ruins of Trinity Church, the round tower and St. Kevin's Church or Kitchen and the graveyard, which only went back to the early 1700s, though the buildings dated to the 12th Century.

The southern path to the lock was through an oak forest with a swamp in between it and the northern trails. A small gray and black tiger cat with white paws accompanied us much of the way but eventually picked up another fellow and turned back.

We walked to the beach viewing the lock and mountains beyond and then saw some of the older churches to the left of the lock as you face it. After ambling over the grounds, we went back to the hotel and information center by a third route, the road. We passed a modern hostel that looked like a good place to stay.

The Wicklow proceeded north from here through a series of five wooden stepped stiles and up a forested hill and led to a dramatic outcropping which looked back over the valley and lock. From here the trail climbed and went downhill again: it was warm on the uphill and cold on the down. We saw a little marked trail to the side and took a little detour but retraced our steps and proceeded down the road � this was the wrong way. The next thing I knew we were marching up the road in front of the B&B we had left in the morning. We passed an elderly bicycle rider whom we'd seen riding to work in the morning; on his homeward ride, we got the same unintelligible greeting we�d received in the morning. Then we compounded our error, missing a turn as we left town. (I suspect both these wrong turns added two miles to our hike.)

After taking a muddy wood road up a slope we came to a little-traveled country road lined with high gray stone fences. It was pretty countryside, but I was weary as I had not eaten anything and was still unsettled. We pushed on past Anamore going down a country road where ring necked pheasants were being released for hunting. For the next several miles, we saw pheasants everywhere, highlighted by the sun slanting down the fields showing every detail.

Our destination was Roundwood, which with our mistakes was a long way. I was becoming more and more tired � annoyed with myself for missing the trail.

As we neared Lough Dan we began a long uphill stretch which rejoined the Wicklow but, with directions from a passing jogger, we soon turned off towards Roundwood. When we arrived, to add to our fatigue, we walked up and down the main street three times looking for B&Bs and turning down the first one. We finally found on the main road. It had a suite of rooms with two bedrooms, a living room/dining room and a comfortable double bed.

The day had been beautiful, but very cold at times. By the time I got to the B&B I was so stiff and cold and wind burned that I collapsed onto the bed.

Stella our innkeeper was very accommodating and brought us tea and crackers. She mentioned that her young daughter � maybe seven � had won the Wicklow Irish dancing contest and would love to dance for us. I rallied and we went up to their living room. Amazingly the front door was wide open (though the heat on in our wing). This was common everywhere. The little girl did several Irish dances with her hands at her side and upper body straight and still. Bon and I were an appreciative audience.

I dozed listening to news and weather as Bon went out to get something at the store. It was cozy as the heat came up and we finally warmed up, dropping off to sleep early.