SATURDAY, AUGUST 24
NOT IN SKIBBEREEN
The day started with Saffi and Chloe waiting in the car while I went to the Farmer’s Market and Aldi’s in Skibbereen. We’d hoped to take Saffi to the Market with us, but she couldn’t handle it, not that she can handle the car. Even when the car is parked, she’s a nervous wreck. She drools when she is nervous, a lot. Fiona keeps a roll of paper towels in the backseat to wipe her drooling mouth. The roll was soaked by the time I returned to the car, lines of drool having dripped from her mouth, down her soft golden front and onto the paper towels. It’s kind of amazing the length of time she can produce long, slimey strings of saliva.
But watching Saffi drool wasn’t the adventure of the day.
BUT ON THE SRON NA GAOITHE LOOP
Our adventure destination was Carriganass Castle, near the small town of Kealkill, the Sron na Gaoithe Loop trail, described in Fiona’s walkways book as “moderate, mostly on trail or path.” Kealkill is just inland from Bantry, a decent distance from Union Hall. It took about 50 minutes to get there. We love this road. It widens out so farm fields are visible and green vistas appear, reaching out to distant rocky hills. It is the same road that we took, part way, to Mizen Head.
Saffi did much better once we were moving, the windows all partly down, and gentle, warm air whipping through the car. The drool was flying behind her!
CARRIGANASS CASTLE
The ruins of Carriganass Castle evoke the 1500s, and earlier. We thought it an usual castle in it’s placement in a valley as opposed to high on a hill or near the ocean, like most castles we’ve visited. The castle, which sits on the edge of a clear, high river, is decorated with beautiful, full pots of flowers. A couple was picnicking at a lone picnic bench in the interior court. It reminded us a bit of Mostar…the quality of the water, the way it sat so near the river. And as Chloe noted sardonically and pithily, it also was in ruins.
FOLLOW THE YELLOW ARROWS
We followed the yellow arrows marking the trail, and ran into a group of hikers on the road as we started out. We asked about the trail. One woman gave very detailed and confusing directions and told us the trail was muddy as she looked down at my white sneakers with disapproval. Each of the four hikers carried walking sticks and all wore boots. “Blow ins” that’s what we are. We didn’t know just how much at the time. Later we thought they must have had a good laugh when they walked away.
Clingy flies attached to our clothes and faces, jumped into our hair as we walked the road between fields of sheep and some cows. More open and with less water than Ballinatona, it felt like the fields around Crawley. We followed the road for about three or four kilometers, got in a fight because we thought we’d missed the turn off at the stile (we had to look up what a stile is!), and because it was a long, uphill incline. We were feeling the effects of our callanetics class.
“Ten more minutes, then we turn back,” said Chloe.
WHAT’S A STILE?
In two minutes we found the stile. It was too high for Saffi to jump, and there was a sign indicating that rams were on the other side. Should we? As Chloe later pointed out, if you have to ask, you shouldn’t. We did. We lifted Saffi over the stile, and headed into the spongy at first, deeply muddy later, dark forest along a narrow trail covered in pine needles until the pine needles became clover (OMG!).
A man emerged from the darkness of the forest (just as Chloe was zipping up her pants from a pee). Quite startling to have someone appear from the dense forest. But he was nice and told us it was worth reaching the top of the ridge for a view back to Bantry Bay.
DANGER
Past the clovers, we exited the forest and arrived at the rocky cliff face. We proceeded up the soaking, muddy, slippery incline, at first fairly gentle, but soon very steep. A railing, topsy turvy, was provided for the first big climb. Worried about Saffi, we watched her gallop up without any trouble. “She’s more wolf than us,” said Chloe.
I gripped the railing for dear life and literally sat down and pulled my legs up at one point. Chloe said “we are so not outdoor people.” I beg to differ. We just aren’t climbers.
The problem was that that was only the first of two very steep, rocky areas. Ankle deep in mud, I walked to check out the next incline. Again a railing was provided. Again the railing looked like it was barely hanging on to the rock that were nearly straight up. We could see the ridge…not that far. One more steep one. We could do it. But Saffi?
I went first. Saffi scrambled up, no problem. Chloe was more deft than me.
Then we looked forward, having not considered the next part of the trail, and saw that it was the most difficult of all. No railing. Along the side of the cliff, in mud, rocky, completely dangerous. I was dizzy, my heart palpitating. Shit. Chloe was feeling the same. And Saffi? What would we do now? We would never get Saffi down again. I was too afraid to go up. And as Chloe pointed out, we would have to walk on the ridge. What the hell were we thinking?
TURNING AROUND
We had to go down. We thought we would lift Saffi down. That was a stupid idea. No way we could get sure enough footing, and then lift this heavy dog, and putting her down on the side of a steep hill of rocks. I went first. Slowly. Saffi in the middle. Lucky for us…she’s a dog. She looked at us like we were crazy as she jumped down. We finished the first, scariest incline, moved to the second. Slowly succeeded. I started breathing again.
Back to the patch of clover, back into the forest, back to the stile. I went first. We decided that Chloe would lift Saffi to the top where she would then be able to jump down. But when I was on the top of the stile, Saffi tried to jump, ran into me (my fault) and fell between the wooden-slat stairs…where she got stuck. She looked up at us with her big, sad, brown eyes, standing on her hind legs, her front legs sticking out by her neck.
CATS OUT OF BAG
Instantly, I grabbed under the front legs, Chloe grabbed her waist, and out she came. We were worried she’d hurt herself, and she may have had a limp, but maybe not, as we returned on the road. But something shifted, for sure.
The cat was out of the bag, as they say. The dog now knew we weren’t so smart. I left her off the lead. She was much more responsible when cars came by, or when we passed other dog. And when we reached the main road, she waited for me…as if to remind me that she needed her lead.
