(Entry from Monday, May 16–Wicklow Inn-To-Inn Ride)
This morning we were up at 7:30 and met downstairs for “half eight” (8:30) breakfast. The Irish breakfast was hearty and filling and we were wondering if we’d be able to work it off during the day. We arrived at Calliaghstown Riding Centre and were introduced to Grainne (pronounced kind of like Grun-ya) Sugars, the owner of CRC, and Delphine and Sam, our guides for the week. Sam is Irish and Delphine is from Italy. One of Grainne’s mares had foaled during the night, so we got to see the new little guy resting in the straw. We signed all the obligatory release forms (yes, riding is, in fact, a dangerous sport) and met our mounts.
I was originally assigned to Calypso, a big-bodied draft cross chestnut mare with a wide blaze interrupted by a small brown spot. She flaps her bottom lip when she’s nervous or sizing up a situation. After trotting her around (she is like a big, broken-in, comfortable sofa), Delphine and Sam asked if I would switch to another horse, Tallulah, an Irish bred bay mare who was throwing fits with Toni. I got on and she did the same with me—tossing her head around and being generally strong, but they said to just give her a loose rein and ignore her—apparently she just hates being in an arena. Fair enough. We did a trot and a canter and then headed out on the road toward the trail, single file. Tallulah immediately settled, but made it very clear that she wanted no contact with her mouth at all—I basically held the reins at the buckle and neck-reined. There were two extra riders—Martin and Fiona. They ride at Calliaghstown and have done the latter part of the Wicklow ride, so they are joining us for this portion.
We made our way past buildings that were part of the original Callaighstown estate–housekeeper’s quarters, a forge (a small stone building with a door framed by a giant horseshoe carved in the stone). A few meters down was the blacksmith’s residence. We turned up toward the skyline and began passing homes and small farms and saw another hours-old foal resting in a pasture behind one house. We eventually entered forestland (Sleavetoule Forest) that is owned by the country and logged and replenished regularly. Sam explained to me that the coarse bushes with bright yellow blooms that we saw lining the fences and walls were called gorse (key to remembering this: horse, but with a “g”). She said gorse reinforces the solid appearance and effectiveness of the barriers, and it blooms for most of the year. It dotted the countryside and brought bright spots of color into an almost gray day that promised some precipitation. As we began to take in our first birds’-eye view of County Kildare, Sam explained that we’d be able to see three counties: Wicklow, Kildare, and Dublin. As we ascended into the forests, the mist began to fall while we took off on several good canters across the skyline.
We were in an out of the woods at a pretty high elevation for the rest of the morning with wide vistas of Kildare and Wicklow. The branches of Norwegian pine formed a canopy over the mossy forest floor. It was calming and quiet—occasionally you could hear traffic, but that was barely noticeable. After a few long trots and some canters, we headed down to Brittas, untacked and watered our horses, and headed across the street for lunch at the Blue Gardenia pub.
After soup and sandwiches, we were shuttled over the upper Blessington Lake and over to Carrig. From there, we began climbing along Lugnagun Mountain for a better view of the Blessington Lakes. The lakes were man-made in the early 1900s as a reservoir for Dublin residents. Dams were created and several villages were flooded in the creation of the reservoir. Legend has it that some of the residents wouldn’t leave, and drowned, but it was hard to determine what legends were actually legends and which were just made up on the fly by our guides. There are also legends about things floating up to the surface—coffins and whatnot. That sounds more unbelievable. However, it is said that upon close inspection, there are stone fences that do lead straight down into the water and if the water is low enough, you can see at least one church steeple. There are also the ruins of three castles that are visible on the lake. I was only able to see one on that afternoon, but a pair of binoculars could have assisted. I wasn’t about to pull out my telephoto lens—it’s weird enough getting used to riding with a camera bag around my hips and alternately across my chest. Let’s stick with the short lens.
After riding up through more forestland, we were delighted to find some cross country jumps. Tallulah knew they were coming up because her step lightened and her whole demeanor became more engaged as we approached the area with the jumps. I was the only one who volunteered to jump the whole lot (I already had a lot of faith in Tallulah), and we jumped the first three in the open and followed more jumps back into the woods. As we jumped, we kept finding more jumps—I’d say there were about eight in all. Tallulah charged back over the jumps toward the group and I was relieved to find that she did eventually respond to my requests for her to slow down.
On a peak just southeast of Lugnanan (Sorrel Hill), we were set to have a panoramic view of the Blessington Lakes, but it was a bit foggy. But we really did enjoy what we did see. With the changing of properties and forests, there are many gates, and one was locked today that isn’t usually locked. Sam and Delphine typically have the key on hand but for some reason didn’t have it today. Sam followed the fenceline down and found where someone had built a jump in the fence to provide a gateway to the field leading to the viewpoint.
On our way down the hillside, we learned about how boggy the region is. We were instructed to keep riding directly behind our guides. At one point, Calypso sunk in up to her hocks, but it wasn’t a terrible bog, so she was fine. Navigating down the mountain was easily managed by the horses, which were extremely surefooted. We crossed a few creeks, with some horses accomplishing this more dramatically than others. Only Simba, Anneli’s mount, jumped the creek from a near standstill, and gave Anneli a big startle!
On the way back down the mountain, we saw a pretty impressive house—ecologically sound in that it has a grass roof and is supposedly very energy-efficient. Last year the owners of the home turned a goat loose up there on the roof to graze it down a bit. I thought that would’ve been a sight to see! We passed a beautiful church before heading down into the town of Lackan (also spelled Lachen) for a pint. Yes, I had a Guinness.
Tonight we were treated to gourmet cooking at Mary Curly’s B&B (Heathers B&B) near Ballymore Eustace. We had a choice between lasagna and lamb. After seeing 200 or so lambs frolicking today, I couldn’t do the lamb. After dinner with the girls and the additional visitors Martin and Fiona, Sarah and I made a spontaneous decision to go catch some local music at the Ballymore Eustace Inn Pub. The scene was ironic—it ended up being Bluegrass music, and the guy that was performing, Niall Toner, used to have his own television show. The gig wasn’t well attended (is any gig on a Monday night?), so it gave the locals a good stare at these two strangers. Niall came over and spoke with Sarah and me during the break and was trying to get us to come up and have an open mic moment. We graciously declined—Sarah was jetlagged, and I know when isn’t a good time to get behind a microphone.
We took a cab back to Mary’s and got some rest. It’s funny–I find that when I’m not thinking, I always approach the driver’s side (well, the English/Irish driver’s side) of the taxi instead of the passenger side on the left. This either unsettles the drivers or it gives them a good laugh.