The Trip…

I said I would talk about my adventure in a blog so here it is. I went to Ireland and stayed in a 300-year old thatch roofed cottage for two weeks. It was down a laneway bordered by fields of sheep. It was a ten minute drive from a well known village and one that I’ve been to in the past. While not completely familiar with the area, I figured having been there before and all the pre-trip research would make me comfortable. I knew where there were grocery stores, pubs and a church. I would be fine.

My arrival was less than perfect, although not terrible either. My full travel day was in the neighbourhood of 24 hours. I drove to my mom’s so that I could leave my car at her place and take the train to my departure airport. I enjoyed a nice visit with her, caught said train, took the connector to the airport and got settled in the lounge. My flight out was at night and I hoped between the gravol (for motion sickness), the one drink with my dinner, and the late hour, I would be able to get some sleep. I didn’t do too badly but it was far from ideal.

Interestingly, I didn’t remember from my past trips having to take a shuttle to the car rental but things change over the years. The lineup at the car rental yard was the longest I’ve ever seen for picking up a car. Long flights, exhaustion, the stress of driving in a foreign country all seemed to create craziness and unhappy people. Myself, I was exhausted and slightly terrified about driving - it’s been many years since I’ve driven in Ireland. Anyway, I had three hours (turned out to be closer to four due to my GPS) to get where I was going.

Upon my arrival, I ran into a minor issue. I had printed out what I thought was all my necessary information about the rental. I wanted to be sure if my phone died, etc., I would have what I needed. I missed printing out the phone number of the caretaker. Wouldn’t you know it! The people I bumped into at the agreed meeting place were anything but welcoming or kind. I wondered what I was doing. Maureen, the caretaker, arrived and I followed her to the cottage. My first view of it was like a postcard. Then I went inside. My 160+ year old house started looking pretty good. Stone floors which I gathered from pictures, precipitated the need for slippers. A boiler system quite foreign to me was available for heating water for dishes and showers. No neighbours but sheep. What was I doing?

I had done my homework for a grocery store and I headed into town to pick up what I would need for the first morning. The essentials - tea, milk and sugar. That was all I could handle. I got back, ate, got into pjs and crashed.

I slept 12 hours! The sayings, it will look better in the morning or things are better after a good night’s sleep, are absolutely 100% true! The night before I was lonely, feeling overwhelmed, scared of driving the rural roads, and on and on. I had set it up with my sister to let my mom know I had arrived safely but I didn’t hear back. Thankfully, my son (who had also been travelling) was home and got in touch so I knew that the message was passed. Without that one contact I’m sure I would have cried myself to sleep. Instead, I dropped into a healing, restorative deep sleep.

Why have I spent all this time explaining the first day? Well, I think we can sometimes miss out on opportunities to appreciate changes in perspective. On my first night I wasn’t sure that Ireland was going to work out and Ireland has always been my favourite destination. That all by itself was upsetting. Add to it that I was going to be here for two weeks? Alone? The night before I couldn’t see anything positive. The next morning? Suddenly the world brightened. In the future if I find myself in the same headspace I will have this affirmative experience to lean on and know that things can still work out. And work out, they did.

I set a routine for my days in Ireland. I greeted my sheep neighbours each morning, breathed in the fresh air and gave thanks for another day. I did a writing class or two, spent a couple of hours writing and got set up for an afternoon of exploring.

I enjoyed all of it. The routine, the exploring, the writing fed my soul. I needed to feel productive in my writing and fingers crossed, positive results will come. For my afternoons I found myself active in unfamiliar places, hiking and taking all the trails available. I’m not in great shape and I know it but while there, I pushed past my reservations and made myself just do it. I even climbed to the first summit of Croagh Patrick. Looking back, it’s my only regret from my time away. I really wish I’d pushed and completed the climb. In my heart I know it was beyond me that day (I was also suffering from a nasty cold) but I plan to return and make it to the final summit. I am still incredibly proud of what I accomplished.

I did not feel like I was “on holiday” or “being a tourist”. I felt alive. A friend pointed out that now I know I’ll be okay in retirement. And I do know that. I know that I will fill my days, hopefully with writing and being active.

The trip was a blessing. It wasn’t just a break from the everyday. It gave me an opportunity to try out a new path, one that could become my retirement with new adventures. Not everyone gets this chance or perhaps takes the chance. I’m so grateful that I did and that I found out who the next me can be.

At the Cliffs of Moher. Some of the trail was closed but I was able to walk and explore for a couple of hours. In my trips to Ireland I had never been there and I'm glad I finally went.

Cong Woods is close to "my" cottage. I spent an afternoon exploring all the different trails available.

Croagh Patrick. I was and still am extremely proud of what I accomplished. I'm looking forward to returning and completing the climb.

Yesterday's river walk in New York State. While saddened it wasn't the hike I hoped for, I'm glad I went and had the perfect weather to enjoy the brilliance of Fall colours.