Day 4 - "I'm gonna walk like a baby."

We weren't sure if Helen would be joining us for our weekend adventures, so Saturday morning, we decided to stay local and stay flexible. Helen had been trying hard to get babysitters lined up, but with four daughters who are all fairly young, it was a difficult task that wasn't decided until the last second. And the unfortunate conclusion to the tale is that a couple of babysitters bailed out without enough notice to find backups. So, we were on our own for most of the day. But like I said, we had decided to keep it local.






We actually got a good start in the morning and were out the door before 10am! Go Egles! Can anybody guess what our fearless leader would've chosen as another top priority? I'll give you a hint. You may have seen her wearing a sweatshirt in some of the pictures with little drawings of our next landmark all over it... Another hint: we saw the oldest functional one in the world. Last hint (making it WAY too easy): it's on the coast, not far from where we're staying.






If you haven't figured it out yet, well... Well, you're lucky I'm a nice guy and generously reveal it to you. We went to the Hook Lighthouse. Fun Fact: You've probably heard of it. ("Actually, no I haven't." Creepy how I can read your mind.) Even if you don't know it, you've heard of it. If you've ever heard the expression, "By Hook or by Crooke," you've heard of the Hook Peninsula, where the lighthouse is situated. The expression comes from Oliver Cromwell (probably... two out of three guidebooks said he's the source), who was going to attack Waterford, and vowed to take it by Hook or by Crooke, a peninsula that's right next to the Hook Peninsula.






We had to take a ferry to get there. This was a little longer ride (and a little bigger ferry) than the one we ride to get to our hotel every night. Grandma's been handling the boats quite well. She says she's not a big fan of boats, but I guess with the size that we've been on (and the fact that the waters have been very calm) have made it a non-issue... despite the scary traffic signs when you board the ferry that warn what might happen if you're not a careful driver.

Don't drive too far!

And this is the BIGGER of the two ferries we've used!

The lighthouse was built in the early 1200s. It took about 10 or 15 years to build, all done by hand. The walls are extremely thick. 3 meters! All limestone, all gathered from the surrounding area. Originally, there was a coal fire in the top, and that served as the beacon. The monks who lived there and ran the lighthouse would have to climb the 115 stairs to the top multiple times per day to keep the fire going. Eventually, they switched to a gas lantern. Again, you can imagine it wouldn't be extremely low maintenance. Guess when it finally became electric. Go ahead. Stop for a moment, and ponder. What year did Edison finally get ahold of this ancient building?

Looks tall, huh?

Ok, we're on a roll with the hinting game, so here's your first hint: 20th century. Did that mess up your first guess? Try again.

Grandma with the current lighting system... BIG lens that spins constantly

Need another clue? Seriously? Ok, but this is your last one: it was during the lifetime of most people who are reading this blog (sorry, to my generation who is reading this).


In the year of our Lord, ninteen hundred and seventy two. Not too long ago, eh? And you think it made it so much easier when that happened, right? No more coal to haul. No more wax to supply. Well, they got this fancy spinning lens system (as I suppose all lighthouses have nowadays). The lens is so good, that if it stops spinning, the light will be so concentrated on one spot that it will cause either a fire or an explosion. So, it has to spin ALL the time (literally, all the time). How did they manage that? There was a wind-up mechanism that would keep it spinning for awhile, so they just had to occasionally wind the crank... every 26 minutes. All day and all night. Three hundred sixty five days a year. Even though the living quarters at that time was a disconnected building. Not a fun job.

Now, though, everything is automated, and there aren't any lighthouse keepers who live on sight. The government checks in on it every six months, but otherwise it is completely self-sufficient. Now it just has friendly people like William, who give tours several times a day. William was a wonderful new friend for us, as we took our tour. Grandma had never been inside a lighthouse before, and she had certainly never been to the top of one, but she was determined that today would be her day, and William was a fan of that objective, so he ever-so-patiently waited as the star of our story climbed up... and up... and up.

What endurance!

There are 115 steps in the Hook Lighthouse, divided into three segments. So, we would walk about 30-40 steps, and then William would tell us of the ancient structure's stories. Then we'd do it again... and again... then once more. The first stop was this tiny circular room about 15 feet in diameter. Ok, so it wasn't tiny, but when you consider the fact that for a long time there were three lighthouse keepers living there, it seemed a lot smaller. When you consider that their families lived there, too. Well, it was downright unfathomable. There were holes in the wall above our head that were evidence they used to have a small loft above, but still... tiny.

At least they had a fireplace to keep warm (on left)

The second stop was similar to the first, but this time it was the head lighthouse keeper's quarters. So, same size, but only one family. I guess that's what it meant to work your way up the ladder in those days. You'd get to share 700 square feet in one or two rooms with your entire family. So, not the worst conditions ever, but far from ideal.

Inspecting one of the tiny (about 5'x6') bedrooms off the main area

The main room... ready to move in?

Up again. More stairs. Spiraling upwards, seemingly endlessly. Until we came upon the next level. It was the monastary. It was neat how this level had a little more style... the doorways were arched in a cathedral sort of peak, and it was a nice area. On this level, though, William pointed something out to us: the walls looked a little brown. He asked what we thought had caused it. Rust? Soot? Paint? Metal of some sort? We had no clue. Turns out, it was blood. The people who built the lighthouse felt that a mixture of horse hair and blood would help seal things up a bit in additional to the traditional rocks and... stuff... mortar(?) that they used. But over the past 800 years or so, the blood has begun seeping through the walls and has stained them. A little creepy. Or a lot creepy. I don't think I would want to be in that scary dark old building at night, knowing that the walls were almost literally dripping blood.

Like their glue recipe? Try it next time you need to build a lighthouse!

As Grandma heard each of William's stories, she listened attentively, resting. Never once did she hesitate. And certainly not before the final leg of her climb. She was remarkable. I don't know where she gets her strength from, but she made it up with no difficulty, acting as though she climbed 115 stairs every day... 1,115 even!

Listening to one of William's stories

And it was well worth her effort, because the views from the top were incredible. The grin on her face went way past ear-to-ear as she looked out from her perch. It was even one of the few times Sophia Lauren asked for her picture to be taken: she wanted one with our new friend, William.

Grandma poses with her new friend

Beautiful view




Look at that grin!

But don't look down! Scary...

The waves crashing ashore... but no boats crashing thanks to the lighthouse

One last look before going down

And one last picture

One the way down, Grandma did even better than the way up. She wisely took her time, though, using both hands on the banister and putting both feet on each step. She warned us, "I'm going to walk like a baby," but none of us minded. We were all amazed that she had triumphed yet again. What a fighter!

And we're done!

After the tour we stopped just outside the lighthouse for a picnic lunch. You can't let such a scenic locale go to waste, so we took advantage.

The wonderful photographer, Mike Egle, at work

Nearby, there is a town called Fethard. According to our guidebooks, it has more medieval character packed into a small town than perhaps anywhere else in Ireland. Maybe it's been modernized or something since that was written, though, since it didn't seem all that interesting to us. However, there was one thing, that actually has been one of the coolest parts of the trip for me so far: a castle. Whoopdidoo, right? But this wasn't like Waterford. This wasn't like The Rock at Cashel. This wasn't like the Blarney Castle. This one had recycling.

Falling apart, but still astounding

The castle was just on the outskirts of town, and if we hadn't happened to drive by, we never would've known it was there. No signs, not in a tour book. It was just some castle, built in the 1100's, and no one paid any attention to it. There were recycling bins out in front of it which probably got a lot more attention from the locals than the actual castle did. There was a part of the castle fenced off because it was apparently falling apart. The doors and windows were sealed so that people couldn't go inside. There was a small amount of graffitti on it. It was so incomprehensible that this, a very physical, massive, impressive piece of history could be so taken for granted - so unimpressive - that it was completely ignored. This country is so rich with history that they can afford to ignore an 840 year old building. Can you imagine the admission fees you could generate if you found some 840 year old castle in the United States? Of course you can't, since that was more than 300 years before Columbus even arrived. Incredible.

All closed up... no entry

Grandma takes a look

Next, we decided to see an old church. We'd seen lots of castles, but we hadn't seen old churches, so we went to one called Dunbrody Abbey that wasn't too far away. This, too, was an awesome experience. Definitely the makings of one of my favorite days in Ireland. So, there's this 800 year old church - absolutely huge, of course - and we go to its little tourist/reception office, and we pay the fee to go inside. And what do they do? They give us a map and a key to the building. It's completely empty! And they just give us the key and we're allowed to wander around inside. How amazing is that?!?

Gorgeous old church

Map and key

So, Grandma opened up the gate for us, and we got to explore all its little nooks and crannys... all it's old arches and dormitories and kitchens... It's in ruins, obviously, but it was just such a unique feeling to just be inside, free to do as we pleased, in this wonderfully old building. I guess that's the brainwashing of American (and most other) museums that have look-but-don't-touch mindsets, and this seemed to fly in the face of it.

The keymaster

A gorgeous entryway

A church in ruins

Strolling through... UNSUPERVISED!

No one but the birds and old walls

Is Grandma looking at me or the church behind me?

By the time we finished with the church, it was dinner time. It's surprising how quickly the time flies during the days here. We asked Grandma if she wanted to go to Kilkenny for dinner. Her response: "Gee, no thanks." Never a dull moment with Grandma. We didn't go to Kilkenny, though. Instead, we went to another small town nearby (lots of small towns seems to be the theme of the country) called New Ross and ate dinner at a restaurant/pub within a hotel. There was a big group of locals in the room where we ate clustered around the room's TV, glued to a rugby match. I have no idea who was playing or what the outcome was, but everyone seemed quite pleased with it. It was apparently the finals in some tournament.

The notable part of this meal (other than the rowdy locals watching their game) was Grandma's first taste of Guinness. She asked my dad if she could have a sip, and then she waited patiently as we got our cameras ready, having insisted we record the moment. She took a sip and had a not entirely pleased (though not disgusted) look on her face. We asked her if she liked it. "No, not especially." And then... she took another sip. I guess it wasn't too bad, huh? She did stop after the second sip, though.

Grandma's new motto?

We drove the short way back to Waterford, where we continued our stay. Grandma wrote out her one and only post card (sent to Grand Rapids, so don't get your hopes up). We got a call from Helen, though, and she decided, forget about the babysitters who ditched! She was leaving one daughter with her husband, two with a babysitter that didn't ditch, and she brought one with her and she came to visit. Helen, Emma, Grandma, and my father had a good time hanging out in our lodge that night while Libby, my mother, and I went to the Waterford Castle to use the internet (since our lodge didn't have it). Also, while there, my mother insisted on taking pictures of just how fancy the bathroom at the castle is. So, in case you were wondering...

Don't be jealous... just be proud

Painted ceramic sinks... a good start

Fun Fact: They're not called bathrooms here. Just like in England, they're toilets. Bathrooms are where you take baths. Restrooms must be bedrooms, since that's where you rest. But if the thing you want to use is a toilet, then the name of the room you must be looking for is a toilet.

Basket of real cloth towels... body lotion...

Wooden toilet seats...

And a little sitting area in case you get tired.

And just in case seeing pictures of a toilet makes you need to use one, this entry has come to a close. Coming up next time: Yorkshire pudding, sheep, the unfortunate demise of Kenny, and more!