“What’s Love Got to do with
it?” is the old Tina Turner song. I don’t know if Tina has found the answer to
her question yet. She lives in France now, and maybe the French people know.
If Tina came to Ireland, the
answer would be “a lot!” The Irish people are warm and friendly, and they want
you to love their country. Many of them have relatives in American, and they
seem partial to us yanks. How do I know this? In July some years ago I went to
the western part of Ireland on an organized bike trip run by Vermont Bike
Tours. My wife Vicki and I along with three friends from Massachusetts joined
14 bikers for eight days in this beautiful land.
We rode twenty to forty
miles a day in the Galway and Connemara coast areas with an overnight trip to
the Aran Islands. Our route followed the ocean or went through peat bogs much of
the time. We rode on backcountry roads with little traffic. Many days I seemed
to see more sheep on the road than cars! We pedaled multi speed touring bikes
that were well maintained by our efficient, native guides, Catherine and Gina.
The terrain was rolling hills with an occasional steep climb.
High points for me were
several. I loved the ferry ride to the Aran Islands and the subsequent 6-mile
ride to our seaside hotel. Only 400 people lived on the island. When we explored
it, we discovered it had a wild, forlorn quality. Our innkeeper baked fresh
scones in the morning accompanied by large portions of smoked salmon and eggs.
The previous night three
local musicians came to perform for us at our hotel. I had grown up listening
to Irish music, so I was looking forward to the evening. When I saw that the
performers were ages 8, 10, and 13, I was initially disappointed and thought,
“What kind of dog and pony show is this?”
As soon as the first boy
began singing, rest of our group and I were drawn into the moment. Closing his
eyes and playing his accordion with great skill, the oldest boy sang soulfully
of bad times, sadness, and tragedy. Ireland’s past seemed to flow through him.
He was a cultural conduit of a people who had suffered famine, poverty, and
oppression. After his brothers sang and danced, all the boys sang, “Wild Mountain
Thyme”, one of my favorite songs. The eight year old particularly touched our
group with his courageous poise and strong clear voice. At the end we
respectfully shook hands with the boys and joked that we would like to sponsor
them on tour in the United States.
Another high point was our
stay at the Zealand Country House Hotel. Beautiful gardens and lawns spread out
from the hotel creating a relaxing, almost surreal atmosphere. An attractive
pub and dining room overlooking the sea were added attractions. The food was
wonderful, and the whole experience was sweetened, when our guides arranged for
Vicki and me to have the spacious “honeymoon” suite in honor of our 35th
wedding anniversary.
Bike trips are great fun,
and I suppose it isn’t hard to see why. A pint, good company, and a delicious
meal follow a hard day’s exercise. The settings are scenic and welcoming.
Decisions are few and conflicts at a minimum. Like surrogate parents, the
guides scurry here and there taking care of everyone while at the same time
educating them about their culture.
Our two guides were very
attractive people. Catherine and Gina were smart, competent, and fun.
Irreverent and energetic they helped set a positive, upbeat atmosphere for our
group. Their jobs were complex. Bikes needed to be fixed, routes changed due to
rain, individual needs met, and van support provided.
At one point during the trip
Gina had said in Gaelic that Irish whiskey was the, “water of life”. On the last night I pointed out that she had
been mistaken, since she and Catherine were really “the water of life!” Indeed
they seemed to represent a new Ireland, a land that was economically booming.
They personified an Ireland that was proud and progressive, an Ireland on the
move, a modern, developing land. Their destiny was to help create an Ireland of
the future, different from the Ireland the Aran Island boys had portrayed with
such passion and pathos.
As I rode the train at the
end of the trip to Dublin, I thought of the love and kindness of the Irish
country people. Martina, the owner of Sheedy’s Hotel, had said, “Lovely”, every
time I ordered something. Every meal seemed to result in an affirmation of
one’s judgment and taste! The fun part was that she seemed to mean it! I
thought of Catherine’s passion and energy, I thought of Gina’s irreverent wit,
and I thought of our group’s kindness and infectious humor after a well-earned
pint or two at the end of a biking day. And how could I not forget of the boys
of Aran Island, who touched us so with their poignant voices.
As our train rambled across
the green, rolling farmlands of Western Ireland, and we approached the historic
city of Dublin, I thought I heard a strain of, “Wild Mountain Thyme.” I closed
my eyes, and I listened as closely as I could. And yes, I heard those boys as
clearly as if they were sitting in the seat next to me.
I paid my debt to Nancy last night by buying her a martini
at the Westin. We sat with her husband Roger, and their good friend Ken, who
has to leave today due to his wife’s illness. Ken had one humorous ski anecdote
after another, and it was an
enjoyable time. After the group left to have dinner in Basalt, a small
town a few miles west of Snowmass, Vicki and I walked downstairs to the
Westin’s restaurant.
This morning we met our friend Mike Fetters who lives in
Boston and L.A. He is a gracious, caring person who is an accomplished skier.
His style on the groomed runs is flawless, but he shines, when he disappears
into the woods. I watched him cutting in and around trees, skis together,
making excellent turns. His next ski trip is in Jackson Hole, where his son
teaches school, when he is not jumping off cliffs into steep chutes on the
mountain. 
