I know why Irish eyes are smiling!

“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 35^th 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.