He tells us that the town only has four streets, and he's not far off. Four main streets make up the area of town where most of the businesses lie -- two longer streets that stretch up from the river that runs through town and the two streets that connect them. When we arrive, we drive around that circuit. Of course, the town has more streets where the residence are, but it's not a large town.
After we check into our hotel, we decide to go for a walk back into the town. I notice a sign for a river walk, and we take it to town. The river walk is nothing like San Antonio's or even Belfast's. An improved path borders a small river -- more like what we would call a creek, only 12-15 feet wide.
The part that leads from our hotel to the main section of town is has broad, green lawns, and a young couple sit underneath a tree, watching the ducks and chatting. The walk takes us to one of the cross streets. One side of the river in this part of town contains a line of shops about two blocks long that a map I look at later labels as a "mall."
Some of the bridges have steps that lead down into the water. Not real sure what the purpose is. We walk around the main streets, noting the shops. Westport is in County Mayo, whose hurling team will be vying against neighboring County Clare in a big game the Saturday after our visit. Many of the shops are selling Irish flags and County Mayo flags in anticipation of the big game.
I checked after our return, and County Clare won. As for hurling, well, that's a wild sport. Think soccer crossed with field hockey and lacrosse. Or something like that. Check out this video on YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TmzivRetelE
The central square in town features a statue of St. Patrick, but unlike many of the statues of the saint you see, this one does not show a man wearing robes and a miter hat carrying a shepherd's crook. Instead Patrick is represented as the 5th century man he really was.
Westport lies a few miles from Croagh Patrick, considered one of the most sacred sites in Ireland. Croagh Patrick is the third highest mountain in Ireland and used to be a site associated with pagan worship. Legend has it that Patrick once climbed to the summit and fasted there for 40 days and nights. Worshipers make an annual pilgrimage to the mountain.
Westport is the site of Westport House, a mansion built by the great great granddaughter of Grace O'Malley, the Pirate Queen. Or at least her husband. The family still owns the mansion and operates it, along with a pirate-themed park. The house also functions as a sort of museum dedicated to O'Malley.
Grace has a fascinating story. As a young child she showed an interest in the sea, and her father was a seafarer. The guide at the house told us that Grace stowed away on her father's ship, but when discovered she showed such aptitude that he continued to take her with him. She dressed like a man, and often cut her hair severely short, earning the nickname "Bald Grace."
Grace also demonstrated leadership abilities, and in time took over command of the fleet. Conflicts with the English led her into a life of piracy. She was known as a fierce fighter and won and lost more than one fortune. She also had multiple husbands and a couple of lovers, though the marriages were more for personal gain than romance.
My favorite story about her: She was pregnant but still sailing. While at sea she delivered a child and was resting in her cabin when the ship was boarded by Turkish pirates. Her crew was outnumbered and losing. A crew member came to her cabin to report the situation. She took the news badly, got out of bed, grabbed a blunderbuss and went on deck. Yelling at her crew for their lack of resolve, she discharged the gun into a group of Turks. The crew then rallied and drove the invaders back.
Tough woman, eh?
The house is built on the site of a former O'Malley castle, the dungeon being the only part that survived the original building site. You can go down there and have a look around. They have it hoked up a bit with statues of pirates and prisoners, but it's still an interesting visit. The stone floor is uneven and the atmosphere dank. Without lights, it would be like being in a cave, completely dark. Altogether a disagreeable place to find yourself.
Our afternoon trek will be to Achill Island and a drive known as the Atlantic Drive. The narrow road meanders along the island's coastline and offers views of the North Atlantic. A few years back I noted that our visit to the Grand Canyon really brought home to me the concept of awe, especially as a physical reaction. This trip, and especially our visit to Achill Island, taught me the concept of breathtaking, as so many times I would turn to see a new vista and forget to breathe for a moment.
Sheep dot the hillsides, seemingly unconcerned with our presence. I'm sure they're used to the tourists by now. At one stop, a grave marker is situated not far from the cliffside. If you could have an eternal view from your grave, this spot would be an excellent one.
We stop for lunch at a local restaurant, which Sean told us was the only one on the island, even though we see signs for other establishments. Wish I could remember what we had, but after dining Sharon and I wander down a road in the little village to see one of the bays that has a broad beach. Despite her best efforts she is unable to get a picture of the beach. During bright, sunshiny days, I'm sure the view of the beach is spectacular, but today the fog has rolled in, and we can see rain falling in the distance. Sean wants to make sure we have the chance to see the Deserted Village, which he calls the Derelict Village, before the rain catches up to us.
On the way we pass a golf course. The course seems pretty flat but is full of hazards -- sheep wandering about on the fairways. Not real sure what the rule for that is. Been too many years since I played or watched on TV.
The remains of some 80-100 one-room, stone houses, now mostly in ruins, make up the Deserted Village. Once a small community, the villagers abandoned the site during the potato famine. The buildings continued to be used as summer residences called "booley houses," where those tending sheep and cattle would stay while the livestock grazed the area.
The immediate area is also an important archaeological site, where investigators have found evidence of human habitation dating back to Neolithic times.
After our return to Westport, Sharon and I wander back into town to shop and enjoy the area. On our return to the hotel, I take it in mind to look inside one of the cars parked near the entrance. The owner was standing inside, looking through a window and came out to visit with us. I explain that I'm a tourist and wondered how the interior layout differed from our cars, other than the obvious.
He happily opened the car up and began chatting with us, telling us that he was on holiday and about what part of Ireland he was from, where he lived now, and how he came to be there. Quite a pleasant fellow. Oh, and almost all the controls of the vehicle -- a Ford Focus -- except the gear lever were the same as Sharon's car. Pedals in the same place, levers on the steering column had the same functions. Some minor variations in dashboard layout. I'm still quite sure I wouldn't be able to drive safely over there -- heck, I barely drive safely here -- but a competent American driver would have less to adjust to than I had imagined.
The next day will be our last full day in the country, and it should hold even more wonders to behold.
After we check into our hotel, we decide to go for a walk back into the town. I notice a sign for a river walk, and we take it to town. The river walk is nothing like San Antonio's or even Belfast's. An improved path borders a small river -- more like what we would call a creek, only 12-15 feet wide.
 |
| One of our merry band dresses up for our visit to the house of a descendant of the Pirate Queen and picks sides for the upcoming hurling match against County Clare. |
Some of the bridges have steps that lead down into the water. Not real sure what the purpose is. We walk around the main streets, noting the shops. Westport is in County Mayo, whose hurling team will be vying against neighboring County Clare in a big game the Saturday after our visit. Many of the shops are selling Irish flags and County Mayo flags in anticipation of the big game.
I checked after our return, and County Clare won. As for hurling, well, that's a wild sport. Think soccer crossed with field hockey and lacrosse. Or something like that. Check out this video on YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TmzivRetelE
The central square in town features a statue of St. Patrick, but unlike many of the statues of the saint you see, this one does not show a man wearing robes and a miter hat carrying a shepherd's crook. Instead Patrick is represented as the 5th century man he really was.
Westport lies a few miles from Croagh Patrick, considered one of the most sacred sites in Ireland. Croagh Patrick is the third highest mountain in Ireland and used to be a site associated with pagan worship. Legend has it that Patrick once climbed to the summit and fasted there for 40 days and nights. Worshipers make an annual pilgrimage to the mountain.
Westport is the site of Westport House, a mansion built by the great great granddaughter of Grace O'Malley, the Pirate Queen. Or at least her husband. The family still owns the mansion and operates it, along with a pirate-themed park. The house also functions as a sort of museum dedicated to O'Malley.
Grace has a fascinating story. As a young child she showed an interest in the sea, and her father was a seafarer. The guide at the house told us that Grace stowed away on her father's ship, but when discovered she showed such aptitude that he continued to take her with him. She dressed like a man, and often cut her hair severely short, earning the nickname "Bald Grace."
 |
| Grace O'Malley (Grainne Ni Maille in Irish) |
Grace also demonstrated leadership abilities, and in time took over command of the fleet. Conflicts with the English led her into a life of piracy. She was known as a fierce fighter and won and lost more than one fortune. She also had multiple husbands and a couple of lovers, though the marriages were more for personal gain than romance.
My favorite story about her: She was pregnant but still sailing. While at sea she delivered a child and was resting in her cabin when the ship was boarded by Turkish pirates. Her crew was outnumbered and losing. A crew member came to her cabin to report the situation. She took the news badly, got out of bed, grabbed a blunderbuss and went on deck. Yelling at her crew for their lack of resolve, she discharged the gun into a group of Turks. The crew then rallied and drove the invaders back.
Tough woman, eh?
The house is built on the site of a former O'Malley castle, the dungeon being the only part that survived the original building site. You can go down there and have a look around. They have it hoked up a bit with statues of pirates and prisoners, but it's still an interesting visit. The stone floor is uneven and the atmosphere dank. Without lights, it would be like being in a cave, completely dark. Altogether a disagreeable place to find yourself.
Our afternoon trek will be to Achill Island and a drive known as the Atlantic Drive. The narrow road meanders along the island's coastline and offers views of the North Atlantic. A few years back I noted that our visit to the Grand Canyon really brought home to me the concept of awe, especially as a physical reaction. This trip, and especially our visit to Achill Island, taught me the concept of breathtaking, as so many times I would turn to see a new vista and forget to breathe for a moment.
 |
| View along the Atlantic Drive on Achill Island. |
Sheep dot the hillsides, seemingly unconcerned with our presence. I'm sure they're used to the tourists by now. At one stop, a grave marker is situated not far from the cliffside. If you could have an eternal view from your grave, this spot would be an excellent one.
We stop for lunch at a local restaurant, which Sean told us was the only one on the island, even though we see signs for other establishments. Wish I could remember what we had, but after dining Sharon and I wander down a road in the little village to see one of the bays that has a broad beach. Despite her best efforts she is unable to get a picture of the beach. During bright, sunshiny days, I'm sure the view of the beach is spectacular, but today the fog has rolled in, and we can see rain falling in the distance. Sean wants to make sure we have the chance to see the Deserted Village, which he calls the Derelict Village, before the rain catches up to us.
On the way we pass a golf course. The course seems pretty flat but is full of hazards -- sheep wandering about on the fairways. Not real sure what the rule for that is. Been too many years since I played or watched on TV.
The remains of some 80-100 one-room, stone houses, now mostly in ruins, make up the Deserted Village. Once a small community, the villagers abandoned the site during the potato famine. The buildings continued to be used as summer residences called "booley houses," where those tending sheep and cattle would stay while the livestock grazed the area.
 |
| Sheep wander about the ruins of the Deserted Village. |
The immediate area is also an important archaeological site, where investigators have found evidence of human habitation dating back to Neolithic times.
After our return to Westport, Sharon and I wander back into town to shop and enjoy the area. On our return to the hotel, I take it in mind to look inside one of the cars parked near the entrance. The owner was standing inside, looking through a window and came out to visit with us. I explain that I'm a tourist and wondered how the interior layout differed from our cars, other than the obvious.
He happily opened the car up and began chatting with us, telling us that he was on holiday and about what part of Ireland he was from, where he lived now, and how he came to be there. Quite a pleasant fellow. Oh, and almost all the controls of the vehicle -- a Ford Focus -- except the gear lever were the same as Sharon's car. Pedals in the same place, levers on the steering column had the same functions. Some minor variations in dashboard layout. I'm still quite sure I wouldn't be able to drive safely over there -- heck, I barely drive safely here -- but a competent American driver would have less to adjust to than I had imagined.
The next day will be our last full day in the country, and it should hold even more wonders to behold.
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