Today was the day I was very very grateful that I packed rain pants at the last minute. It alternated between aggressive drizzle and full-on rain assault for most of our day out. In the gift shop, we overheard on the radio that there was a “Yellow Rain Alert” for some of the southern counties, including Cork.
What on earth is a yellow rain alert? Is it like Threat Level Midnight? Disaster Level Demon?
The internet tells me that the yellow rain alert means you’ll get an aggressive amount of rain over a certain time period and maybe there is flooding if you’re near a river. Well – ok. It has definitely been a yellow rain alert kind of day.
According to the Irish weather service website, they warn for UV, pollen levels, and…potato blight. Potato blight. Of course…
Yesterday, we deposited half of our crew at the airport to return home and subsequently bid farewell to our faithful steed, the seven seater people mover.
Our new, smaller car has a backup cam and car play but no automatic wipers. I am conflicted about whether or not to be crushed. The people mover’s auto wipers were the bee’s knees, but on the other hand, I can see stuff behind me really well now and I don’t have to futz with my phone GPS.
First world car problems aside, we left Dublin and headed south for Cork, with a stop-off at Glendalough in Wicklow Mountains National Park.
Glendalough is home to monastic ruins, a lake, and a very old graveyard nestled amongst lovely mountains. I didn’t expect it to have a strong tourist hustle: near the car park was a big inn and a tourist cafe/lodge which probably was busy in the summers.
The ruins and the graveyard were tranquil (minus the 50 corvids hopping around ominously). The oldest gravestones that we could discern dated back to the 1800s, and there were surprisingly a few from the past few years, too.
After our slow mosey, we took a short path to the upper lake, which also had some old monastic ruins on its shores. It was home to St Kevin’s cell and a few ancient churches.
On the way to the upper lake 
Tiny waterfall 
The lake! 
Ruined chapel 
And by the time we had arrived back at the car park, the sun had peeked out and the monastery looked like a completely different place!
Our route out of Glendalough took us through the Wicklow Pass. There were ruins of an old lead mine near the top of the pass that had a pretty spectacular view of the valley.
Looking up toward the pass 
The upper lake is…down….there
Next stop: Cobh, near Cork. Our riverside ABB didn’t have an address of any kind I could make sense of – we had to input a post code. Waze did not like the post code at all – we couldn’t have our charming boy band interrupt Revisionist History with singsong directions, which is a staple of any overseas roadtrip. Google maps it is.
Miraculously, we successfully arrived at our destination. It’s about five feet off the road and parking was a “forecourt.” This can’t be a real thing. It just means parking on a slightly wider than usual sidewalk in front of the house.
Ireland.
But hey, the view was great and it was quite cozy!
Monday – time for Blarney Castle! That was the planned part of our day. The unplanned part was buckets and buckets of rain. Rain pants, engage!
The book does not speak super-highly of Blarney Castle, maybe because kissing the Blarney Stone (supposedly it gives you eloquence) is a silly tourist trap and the book prefers other things (it also thinks kissing the stone is gross).
It’s a whopping 18 euros to get in. I’m only here because a friend recommended Blarney Castle and we’re nearby. It turns out that Blarney Castle is just a small part of this park – the castle grounds also host a manor and what amounts to a mini-arboretum. Well, I suppose that explains part of the entry fee.
Maybe if we go for the castle first, some of the aggressive rain will be done while we’re covered inside (spoiler alert, this didn’t happen at all).
Fun fact about the Blarney Stone: it is way, way up at the top of the castle tower – right where you see the iron railing over the battlements in the picture below.
And because this is an old-ass castle, the stairs are basically designed to murder you.
And they’re wet with rain.
At least I got to see my favorite part of any medieval castle before kissing the stone: the garderobe. Yessss.
Once you survive the 1500 narrow steps and peek at the toilets and other rooms, you arrive at the Blarney Stone. To kiss it, you have to hang over a hole upside-down like spider man (albeit with guard rails and a hand-hold, unlike spider man). This is probably not my brightest moment but at least my butt ain’t gettin’ wet cause I have my rain pants.
The view of the surrounding hills and gardens from the top of the castle was gorgeous. Even if you don’t kiss the stone, it’s worth it for the view!
The rain didn’t show any sign of letting up as we explored the castle grounds. The poison garden was just behind the castle and featured many plants that were deadly or could induce some kind of altered state. The plants ranged from Harry Potter to literal pot.
They kept the marijuana plant in a big jungle gym-esque cage to keep prying arms from grabbing any part of the plant.
Mandrake root! 
Imprisoned pot 
Monkshood (I couldn’t bee-lieve it)
By far the best part of the Blarney Castle was the incredible fern garden. It was deserted (except for us!) and was home to tree ferns in a glen with a lovely little waterfall.
Tree ferns! 
Waterfall feat. my raindroppy camera lens which is now too dirty to use
Our last stop on the castle grounds was the Rock Close. This area was rich in folklore dating back to the time the castle was occupied.
Momiji! 
We were bamboozled 
Down the wishing steps 
The witch stone! 
Sometimes this rock magically moves. Ahh!
Ultimately, we spent several hours wandering the expansive gardens despite the threat level yellow (or whatever) rain that kept dumping on us. Definitely worth a trip for the gardens alone! Now let’s hope I don’t get a cold from kissing the Blarney Stone…
On our way back, we stopped for dinner in downtown Cork. The roads in Cork make zero sense – what the heck!? This city is only maybe 200,000 people – not that big at all.
It took me an inordinate amount of circling to enter and exit the barest edge of downtown. Road arrows had worn away (there generally are no overhead signs here indicating what’s a turn-only lane), I don’t know what the road stripes mean because my general rule is to follow the other people (admittedly a flaw in my education), and the roads are labyrinthine at best. Dublin was a piece of cake compared to this nonsense! My Waze boy band was no doubt very angry with me.
At least I got to enjoy an Irish affogato.
Tomorrow: possibly less rain.