Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Joe's Day Four - Dingle Peninsula

By the fourth day, Clare finally relaxed her grip on us and we were off to the scenic Dingle Peninsula.

The pictures below are from a much needed stop for exercise in the Conor Pass. We scrambled up some slippy rocks and got a great view. Behind Bobby in the 2nd picture is a fairly large lake. I so wanted to push him in, but I figured he'd get me back worse so I held back.

Here's a great shot of the KGBM, laughing at something Ed said. That's one thing we weren't short of on this trip - laughter. This picture was taken on one of the several stops on the Slea Head drive, that goes around the edge of the peninsula.

I like this picture because the metal sign is like a thought bubble coming from the concerned faces below it:
The last stop on this little afternoon excursion was at the Wine Strand. Again, I think exercise was needed and this was about the only spot to freely walk. I started on the big rocks, jumping from one to another before ending up on a beach to walk on. There were some steep dunes that I would run and jump off of. I didn't even break my neck!

The B&B we stayed in Dingle was right across from the only pub in the village that had trad music, An Droichead Beag. I checked out earlier in the day and the bartender said there was a session and it was open and shouldn't be an issue for a yank like myself to play in. But when I walked in later when the session was about to start, there were mics set up. Microphones. On stands. I usually never see sessions that are mic'd.

Since I had my fiddle case, I immediately rushed to the back before I would be noticed. A bartender spotted the fiddle though and suggested I speak to the musicians. Michael Herhily was the box player and he had no problem with me coming up to play. After sitting off to the side for a set, they invited me to a mic and to start a set. It turned out to be great fun and a good experience to play in front of a crowd. I even got a compliment from a store owner the next day.

After shutting the taps down at 11:30, Ed and I were off for that one last pint. We had no luck until we ran into Charlie from Killarney. He was another trad musician and when he saw my fiddle case, he thought it'd be fun to have some tunes at his buddy's apartment. It was more like a party. Charlie could never get the mis-strung nylon string guitar in tune, but he was generous and offered a couple of cans of Guinness.

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