Europe Trip: July 10

7-10-09 ~ Friday

First day of the hiking the Wicklow Way!!!
We were on the trail by 9:00, picking it up just beside a little craft shop in the village. The trail was a thin dirt line, thickly hedged on either side by ferns and stone walls. It went up a little way over a road and into a forest of sweetly-musky pines and abundant foxgloves. There were fences all along the trail that you cross by way of a low wooden step that goes through the fence and a wooden beam over the top of the fence. You just step from one side of the fence to another - very convenient. I could scarcely believe how gorgeous the forest was. The amount of ferns was massive, groves upon groves of them totally blanketed the ground, and the bright pink foxgloves were everywhere. The trail started as dirt and crushed rock. Almost immediately it went up a fairly steep incline and the trees loomed closer and closer until they knit together to make a dark corridor. The temperature was still perfect, and though the skies turned from blue to grey it still felt pleasant throughout the entire day. It smelled vaguely of sea air in the places where the pine or moss or alfalfa blooms weren’t stronger.
The trail opened up to a lovely view of the Monastic City from above, and you could just see the top of the cathedral, chapel, and of course the round tower. It was as if we’d stumbled into a mediaeval time. Heather bushed grew thickly now, dense and spiny with delicate lavender blossoms. The panoramic view was amazing! Our trail leveled out as we passed above Laragh -- we could see the fields dived with stone walls, making neat little squares of land -- before going back into an incline as we hiked up Paddock Hill. A mere 380 feet at its highest, pleasant on a map but a bit wearying on foot. It ascended pretty quickly and wild raspberry bushes would sometimes reach right out and prick you through your jeans or, in my case, snag your hair.

We started to travel along a gravel road, curious what part of the road we might be on. It led us right to Laragh, where we’d been the night before. Not right. Upon backtracking we discovered the little hiker sign that tells us where to go, hidden by thick brush. It said ‘turn right.’ We had gone straight. Okay, well, what’s a little twenty-minutes detour? It led us parallel a river and to a bridge over the reddish water. The trail became two planks nailed together to make distant stair steps, which then became a gravel walk with deadwood on either side. This ended when we crossed the highway and officially began the hike to Roundwood, our next destination. There was one more hill on the way to Roundwood but it was a gradual uphill that sloped into a sheep pasture, over a gate, and to a merciful home that had labeled one of their spigots “Drinking Water.” We were running pretty dry by then, and were very grateful for the refill!!
A long section of road took us to the next part of the trail, but we had to divert then to go into Roundwood. It was about a forty minute walk into the small village and up the hill to the Lakehouse B&B, simply a larger home owned by a wonderful couple named Lisa and Volker Nexer. They had a very young son named Caylon who, for the most part, stayed in the residential part of the house and was very nice the few times we saw him. Our room was eggshell white with pressed flower-paper lampshades and blue comforters. The beds were just was we needed after five and a half hours of hiking, and the sliding doors offered a great view of the Nexers’ backyard, complete with a small pond and lily pads. Beyond were the rolling hills and patchwork fields I never tire of seeing.

We asked Volker where he would recommend eating, and he said of the two places in Roundwood he liked the Roundwood Inn better. It was a quite, charming place with wooden floors and beams, hearts carved into the tables’ legs, and lampshades made of multi-colored pieces of glass. A fire burned low in the fireplace at the end of the room. My meal was Irish veggie soup and brown bread, perfect for the drizzling day it had become, and Katie had chicken and chips. (The Ha’Penny Pub’s are better.)
Extra hours in the evening left us able to walk up and down the main street and view what was to be viewed. I was taking pictures of the giant cathedral when a man pulled next to us in his car and asked, “Ehm, excuse me, are you two girls from ‘round here?” We shook our heads.
“Oh. I was jus’ wonderin’ if there’s a Cat’olic church nearby?” he asked. I pointed to the massive structure directly behind him. He turned and looked.
“Oh! T’anks, girls!”
Back at the house Lisa offered a small laptop and a selection of DVDs for us to watch; we chose “Ratatouille” and I finished up my journaling while Katie got the laptop up and running.