Fire in the hole!

Ballinfull, Co Sligo, Ireland- Just days after I got the nerve to post about living in the van, the thing spontaneously combusts!  Rolfe and I were headed to town, I cranked the engine and it wouldn’t turn over.  I tried again and voila! it started, with an extra, special plume of smoke coming from the engine.

I freaked, hopped out of the van,  popped the bonnet to open her up and there was a small fire ablazin’.  Sweet!  I tried to blow it out. (stop laughing)  It persisted so I grabbed Rolfe and ran frantically around the other side of the house, expecting the whole thing to blow.  I spun around and round like a dreidel, dreidel in the meantime calling Molly, my landlady-neighbor to tell her, “The van is on fire!”  Still smoking, I secured Rolfe and decided to try harder to save the van.b76344cd-1853-4dff-a27d-64cf5fe03b2b-4986-00000b04efab6e29.png

I grabbed a hoodie that was still damp, drying on the line to extinguish the fire. Moments later, Gary (Molly’s husband of 41 years) arrived to investigate.  The electrical around the battery was completely singed.

Is this a sign telling me to give up my journey as a van woman? Naw, I think it means fix her up, get a sub-woofer.

A weekend without wheels in rural Ireland was great! Until it wasn’t.  The truth is without my veg going or the hens laying, food was scarce.  We took turns riding the bike into the village, determined to keep the coffee and ciggy stockpile fierce.

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I told Gary I’d look for a car on Done Deal (Irish Craigslist) and done make me a deal!  He said, “Now, I’m not telling you what to do but…” advised me to go down the lane to the neighborhood garage.  There I was greeted by two stately German Shepherds, and a genuine Irishman.  Genuine in the sense that he says ‘fuckin’ every fifth word and has a heart of gold.

Ladies and gents I am the proud owner of a 2003 Ford Fiesta and it is exactly like driving a go cart.  The car guy’s best advice was to give meself! plenty of time to get to town.  I thought he meant this as a precaution because I’d be wanting to turn into on-coming traffic, seated on the opposite side than what I am used to.  Or, I would have to get used to the clutch, but no, it’s because, it literally. takes. longer.  I feel so cute driving it like somehow I am petite. It has a sunroof, but it’s not electric.  There is a hook that I thought was for dry cleaning, or something but it is actually a hand crank which would be life saving in an unexpected underwater event.

I am thoroughly impressed with the Irish hospitality.  It is underpopulated and they make every effort to help you out, make you feel welcome and part of their lush rural haven.  Google actually gives hitch-hiking time travel estimates.  “Eye?” “Eye!” They seem to take care of one another, no matter where ye come from.

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Makin’ it to Mullaghmore

Co Sligo, Ireland- Benbulbin in the back, rocky cliffs in the front, Mullaghmore or An Mullach Mór is Irish for “The Great Summit” and a couple of villages away.  Whenever I meet a local, the conversation usually reveals two things 1) I am not Irish 2) I have not been to Mullaghmore.  With a free day and some curiosity Rolfe and I hopped in the van destined for this famed surfer’s peninsula.

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My iPhone retired itself a while ago, so for navigation I usually jot down the directions and then forget them at home.  Out here, the rural roads tend to be too tiny for two cars to fit fairly, therefore it’s always a game of who has the nicer car.  Generally, I am the one who has to go off-roading.  The best advice I can give for riding around these parts is if the road seems like somebody’s muddy driveway, it’s probably your best bet.

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The waves were dwarfed with no surfers in sight.  I admit, I was a bit nervous, alone, well besides Rolfe, with the wind and wide open ocean below the cliffs.  I was mesmerized for a moment, like the nihilist in me saying “just do it, jump in there, go back to the sea!! let it take you!! Life in meaninglesssssssss!”

I did spot one soul up on the cliffs. I passed him later by the beach, umbrella down, enjoying a little ray of sunshine.  In Ireland it’s always worth it to go out even if the weather seems crummy.

I took Rolfe down to the sandy shoreline.  There were a few signs posted that cattle could be grazing…on the beach.  I kept Rolfe on lead while investigating.  We arrived with windy rain and left the place in the sunshine, typical for Ireland.

IMG_7917We got our daily dose of adorable on the way home.  The new life roaming around this time of year is the epitome of cute.  They use a paint by number system to match the lambs with their mothers.  This kind of takes away from the ambiance of sheep sightings not to mention that this little guy will probably be ordered for dinner sometime soon.  My heart is still warmed by their sweet existence.

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I will return to Mullaghmore to see the Classiebawn Castle and maybe some rad wave BOMBS over next winter.  But for a first run, it was worth the go.