Maybe not to everyone, but a scene such as this on the roadside made me (Kathy) brake!
It's Holy Mary, Mother of God again....we ARE in Ireland, after all.
Another "no-name" church
With a labyrinth behind the building. (We did not stay to walk the labyrinth)
And this is the view across the road looking over Galway Bay.
These rock walls/boundaries are common in Connemara.
The thatched roof buildings are common here, too.
And even a red door.
More rock walls.
And more red doors.
Another church -- this one a newer one.
A National School is our equivalent of a public school
This is the National School.....it seems like each town has its own school....we just haven't been showing each and every one.
We were actually walking to follow a "Wild Atlantic Way" sign, pointing to a specific spot, when we passed the school. The path below turned off the school road....
And it ended at the rock pictured. I, Kathy, was behind Tom and I heard him chuckling.....then saw why.....we had walked all this way and can't understand a word that is written!
We looked up the inscription:
Can a mother forget the baby at her breast
And have no compassion on the child she has born?
Though she may forget, I will not forget you!
See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.
We are crossing the first of three or four such bridges as we go to the islands of Lettermore, Gerumna, and Lettermullan off the coast of Connemara.
Another National School.
Just between the school and the church, we meet this family. They are Declan - 13, Mark, the father -23 (or so he says), Rory -11, and Kian - 6. Mark was born in this village but now lives in Leeds, England. We had been noticing middle-school-aged kids in the streets and near the schools. We asked Mark if school was still in session. He said no that the government had a summer program for Irish children to learn the Gaelic language. Galway is one of the areas where Gaelic, or Irish, is the first language. Therefore, it is one of the areas where the students spend a few summer weeks learning Irish AKA The Language in Ireland.
This was Mark's church as he was growing up. His father has died, but he returns to his roots frequently to visit mom and family.....and for his boys to appreciate their roots also.
Like the blue color in this one, appropriate backdrop for worship and living surrounded by water.
We are about to the end of the road on these 3 islands.
Even on these rather remote islands, we find new housing developments.
Amidst the old ones....
It was pink foxgloves in Scotland; in Ireland, it is these delicate orange wildflowers along the roadways.
In NZ, the children ran to school as depicted on these signs. In Ireland, they walk.
Back on the mainland...
Per Brigid's suggestion, we are going on up the coast to a town named Carna.
We think this is a VERY old petrol pump
I spy through the trees....yet ANOTHER church! Each village, no matter the size has its own school and church; sometimes even two schools if one is national and one is private.
We are now on a quest to find another island by the name of Mweenish, again recommended by Brigid.
Looking for some damned island you spend a lot of time near the water.
on narrow bridges.....
in sight of boats on moorings....
passing waterfront ruins....
and hopelessly lost.
The farther we go, the narrower and less used the roads (goat trails).
Finally the road ends at a beach -- a nice beach.
I met a nice father-daughter from Tipperary who told me how to find the village again -- we gave up on Mweenish Island.
The directions were pretty much going back the way we had come.
The same rock walls.
and houses....
and cows.....
Back on the "main" road our thoughts turn to food -- again.
We find a good looking seafood place next to a nice beach.
with flowers.....
After a good (if not photogenic) meal we are back to The Lodge. We get behind a group of bicycle riders that we follow for miles unable to get around them. All in all, this day trip took us nearly 8 hours to go 90 miles.....hey, lots pictures!!!!!
