Lough It Up

Recently, two weekends ago, I once again packed my bags, (really, it was only a singular bag), to trek to Wicklow. I'm sorry I'm getting a little behind with the weekends and you aren't reading about the most recent excursions, but I'll try to catch up this week. I'll give you a little hint of what you can expect from the post about this past weekend. Hint: It rhymes with Baris, Brance.

Back to Wicklow for now, though. One of the lovely things about being in a country like Ireland is that you can say, "I'm going to the other side of the country for the weekend," and that's completely okay because the other side is only a 2 1/2 hour bus ride away. It actually took us a little more time than that to get to Wicklow since we had to go to Dublin first, and then get on another bus to the small town of Wicklow. More on Dublin later. Also, I got really excited because on the way from Dublin to Wicklow we passed through this little village by the name of Bray, so I was instantly reminded of my sister's friend, Jen Bray! Unfortunately, I tried to take pictures to bring back to her, but none of them turned out very well on account of being on a moving bus in the dark. Sorry Jen!

The town of Wicklow only consists of one street, so you would think it would be pretty simple to find our hostel. Well, you would be wrong. After asking many a lad for directions, we finally found our hostel, Captain Halpin's Bunkhouse. Go ahead, chuckle. The hostel was run by a really sweet couple who just decided to turn their house into a wannabe hotel. We chose to share a room with about 5 Brazilian guys because it was cheaper. We didn't really interact too much other than them asking if it would be okay to drink in the room, so I don't think we'll keep in touch.

The next day we woke up early to make our way to Wicklow Mountains National Park and Glendalough. The latter is the name that has a tie to the title of this post. Glendalough comes from the Irish "Gleann Da Locha," which means "Glen (Gleann) of Two (Da) Lakes (Locha)," and is pronounced like "Glendalock." Herego, the title sounds like "Lock It Up," which is an ode to one of the most solid movies ever created.

"You shut your mouth when you're talking to me!"

Trish, the owner of the hostel, gave us a ride to our butt-booting mountain ascent, I mean...walk. The plan was to drop us off at a trail starting point for the National Park that would loop around so we would eventually end up at Glendalough, and after that, a toasty pub. Before we could be on our way, we first had to take tons of pictures. And with good reason! It is positively magnificent down by the lake. The lake was like a mirror the way it reflected the surrounding mountains. Sometimes it was hard to believe it wasn't a mirror the park just had installed. Wicklow is actually really interesting as well because there have been a lot of movies filmed in the county. Movies like Braveheart, The Count of Monte Cristo, and P.S. I Love You all have scenes in Wicklow. I have a theory that my friends only wanted to go to Wicklow to find the spot that Gerry meets Holly in P.S. I Love You.

I'm totally going to meet my future husband here. Look at all the men I have to choose from!...

-Gasp- A ripple in the lake!?! Is it Nessie!?!

We were all pretty giddy from the fresh air and awesome surroundings.
Photo courtesy of Monica.

                                  Which one is right side up?!?!           It's this one, sillies.

After wearing our camera fingers raw we set out on our trail. I found it hysterical that we were walking on the white trail because then we would technically be white walkers, (anyone who has read Game of Thrones will understand this). If you don't get it, don't worry, it's just nerdy stuff. And also not that funny, I think I was just tired. At first we were working with a nice, paved trail where we could leisurely amble along. Eventually, we came upon a cluster of goats in a rock quarry. We bonded, and I'm sad to say we had to leave them to press on, but I'm going to send them postcards to stay in touch.

Ahhh, I miss paths with no incline.
Photo courtesy of Rachel.

My adoptive Irish family.

I like that boulder. That's a nice boulder...Also, some mini ruins in the foreground.

After that point, I was horrified to see that it was all uphill from there. I had to stifle a sob with this realization, but when a lady with a miniature pinscher passed me I realized I would have to suck it up. If that wee dog could get up the zig-zagging inclined path, so could I! Once we got on our way I realized it definitely wasn't as bad as the other, so I was able to breathe a sigh of relief in between my slightly staggered breathing. The ground was a lot easier to walk on, it was primarily just stones, and we didn't have to fight the wind. For the first part, we were going along a stream with little waterfalls and rapids. I also appreciated it not only for its beauty but also because it covered up my panting. "Do you guys hear that weird noise?" "Oh, yeah, that's definitely the water. -pant- No doubt about it. -pant- The water."

About halfway up at this point. Or I guess halfway down if you're a pessimist.

My mom would have completely freaked if she saw these deer. After all they would be only the 5,893 and 5,894 deer she has ever seen in her life.

On our way we came across a bachelor party, or as they call them in Ireland, a stag party, (bachelorette party=hen party), where they made the soon-to-be groom jump in the freezing cold river/waterfall in his skivvies. Poor guy.  Maybe it was a long night the night before and he needed to sober up. I guess my Pop-Pop was right when the best advice he said he could give me is, "Don't get married." If jumping in an icy river is a requirement, consider me single for life, Pop-Pop.

I thought it may be a little awkward to take a picture of the guy in his underwear, so you'll just have to mentally Photoshop him in.

I don't know what it is about Ireland, but I constantly find myself accidentally climbing mountains. I think it must be Ireland, though, because it can't just be mere chance that it has never happened once in the United States, but it has already happened twice over here in under a one-month timespan. Statistically, the chances are like one in a zillion, and I'm 86% sure those figures are accurate. Luckily, this mountain was a little easier to haul my purely-fat-no-muscle body up because the park people kindly provided these wooden planks with nails in them for the last 3/4 of the path.

That grey path is the one we started up, and then it loops back around. 

We had to migrate to escape the incoming Ice Age.

Since this mountain was easier than the other one, I was able to appreciate the surroundings to a much higher degree. Once we got to the section with the planks, they were running fairly close to the edge, so you were able to get a wonderful view of the gorge we were just in with the lake, (the trail loops back on itself). Also, behind us were more mountains that must have been higher up because they were covered in snow. Ireland just has some of the greatest views I have ever seen in my life. 

"It is suitable only for properly equipped parties competent in navigation." Pshhh, competent in navigation?  I'm able to sniff out a Cinnabon in no time if it's within a 5 mile radius, now that takes some real navigation skills.

Digging the gradual incline over the short bursts of thigh-hell.

Two lakes. Glen of two lakes. It just makes so much sense now!

This picture kind of makes it look like if you slipped off the path and rolled down the hill you would fall off. Pictures are deceptive.

Notice the sandwich in Lauren's hand. Watch for a sequel of "I Want To Lunch With You On A Mountain."

Being on top of a mountain gives you a lot of adrenaline for jumping.
Photo courtesy of Monica.

Glendalough was nice, but just not my cup of tea. Certain things were cool, such as just thinking about how insanely old some of the things were, or the door of the tower that was 6 feet up. Trish said when Glendalough was in use they used a later to get in the tower, and then if invaders ever came they could just climb in and pull the latter in after them. Pretty invasion-savvy those monks.

Monastic City is referring to Glendalough, but I'm pretty positive that it was a place that Indiana Jones visited in one of the first three movies. None of that 4th movie crap.

Approaching the Monastic City with our whips and fedoras.

Monks: "We're doomed if they brought their mini trampolines."

I can’t really put my finger on why I wasn’t a fan. It may have been the fact that it was basically a big graveyard, yet there was no real respect for the dead. People were just traipsing all over graves, letting their dogs run loose, and sitting on tombstones. I just think that people don’t usually have that lack of respect in more current cemeteries, so why would they for Glendalough. Maybe they think since it is so old and a touristy spot that it’s okay to just run amok.  I don’t know, it just didn’t feel right to me. Luckily, after Glendalough we had some time before Trish picked us up, so we warmed up and rested our muscles, (my fat), in a nearby pub.

Windows are kind of skinny, probably not a ton of light getting in. Good thing we don't have a door.

Hmm, it's pretty weird the monks never thought to put a roof on.

The gravestones were a mix of extraordinarily old to relatively new.

That night we all were pretty beat, so we just relaxed in the hostel. We hung out with a young couple that was working in the hostel in exchange for a place to stay. Basically they were just going from place to place whenever they wanted with no real plan in mind. They would just take work where they could, and would just spontaneously move on, even when they had no living situation or work lined up. Straight up ballers. After they left we just watched P.S. I Love You. What a stupid movie. If you disagree, feel free to contact my secretary to set up a meeting to discuss our difference of opinion.

Sunday was pretty miserable weather-wise. We attempted to go on a cliff walk in search of seals, but all we managed to do was get soaked, Monica and Cayla fell on their bums a couple of times, and I ruined my favorite boots, (yes, my adventurin' boots, Kaley Miller!). Being wet is not exactly an optimal condition to be in when you are going to have to ride the bus for hours, but luckily the hostel owners were so nice and let us come back and get changed and dry even though we were supposed to have checked out earlier.

No seals for as far as the eye can see.

Eventually, we made our way to Dublin, and we had a couple hours to kill before our next bus, so we explored around a bit. The day we were there were 2 festivals happening: a haymaking festival (yes!) and a traditional music festival. The music festival was neat because there were a bunch of stages set up around Temple Bar, (note: Temple Bar refers to an area, not an actual pub...though there is a Temple Bar bar in Temple Bar, which I suppose could make things confusing...), so we were able to listen to some great music while shopping and checking things out. API has a weekend planned for Dublin at the end of March, so I won't give you too many details about the city until then in fear of you getting Dublin-ed out. Overall, a really nice weekend in Wicklow and Dublin.

There's always time for Owling (aka another form of Tebowing or Planking where you just try to look like an owl).

This just in: Although there has not been a sighting in years, the elusive triple bunk bed was once more caught on camera by a small group of female tourists in the boonies of Ireland.