Missing the Blarney Stone

Day Twenty-Eight: June 30^th

We felt we should visit the Blarney Castle and its famous Blarney Stone in Blarney just north of the modern megalopolis of Cork.  We felt the urge in the way that all hog-riding, bandana-clad motorcyclists must feel the need to go to Mt. Rushmore in a pilgrimage of submission to the call of kitsch and mild patriotic duty.  I had been warned by our Irish friend Noel to under no circumstances allow Steve to kiss the Blarney Stone as his gift of gab was already preternaturally vigorous and kissing the stone would only endanger world ears.  With that warning in mind and the willingness to submit to all things touristy we arrived and found a convenient parking place.

   

Edifice Rex

Blarney Castle is a beautiful megalith in a fantastic garden.  For the price of 13 euros, each temporarily benighted soul, and there were many, could wander the gorgeous gardens and visit the Poison Garden, the Fern Garden, the Bog Garden, the Pinetum which differs from the Arboretum, the Native Garden, the Rock Garden or Close, and the 18^th century manor house exterior.  

This is the Pacific Northwest's own Red Cedar gone wild in its spacious quarters

Arch—Itecture

Allium meet Conifer, Conifer meet Allium

Going up

All paths led to the entrance to the castle interior and the chance to Kiss The Blarney Stone.  This last bit would require only the most ordinary tourist sacrifice of waiting in line for a very long time.  We considered the prospect of an hour and a half of shuffling in wavy lines like obedient monks with selfie sticks and phone cameras, first through the courtyard and then up medieval windings steps with only arrow slots for relief, and decided to pass on the experience of being thrown over backwards in idolatry and lifted up with whiplash by a bored attendant who must frequently crave a bath in hand sanitizer.  

 Seekers of gab committing to the required rituals

This is what we missed. Would you trust this guy?

(photo from Blarney Castle website)

I am a big fan of rock gardens and garden whimsy which was found here in great form in the Blarney Castle's Rock Close.  The stones here are huge —with trees sometimes growing atop them.  I imagine they were brought here in recent times to decorate the manorial gardens but their placement is magical and brings out the kid in a person. No small feat. 

There is a crevice in this rock called Witch's Kitchen in the Rock Close

The hearth of the Witch's Kitchen

This led to a pond and waterfall 20 steps down

 Going down

We headed southwest of Blarney, through traffic-jammed Cork, to the town of Kinsale on the southwestern coast of Ireland where we were planning to spend two nights prior to our return to Dublin. Kinsale is also a launching point for an ancestor of mine.