A signature moment in time
For a number of years, Candee has spoken to family and friends about coming to Westport to celebrate our 50th anniversary with us . Although I had wished the same, my faith was weak. It seemed a lot to ask of people - to commit the time, and more importantly financial resources, to come all the way across the Atlantic, to take the time from work, to rent accommodations - and perhaps a car, to eat at restaurants, spend money in the pubs, etc., etc. - in short, incur all the expenses one would have on a holiday of their own choice. Ireland certainly wouldn't be hard duty, but you could understand personal preferences for Italy, France, Switzerland, Germany, Canadian Rockies, Alaska, and any innumerable other choices.
As some climbed, the rest of the group were enjoying the charms of the town - shopping, eating, drinking. We hopped on a bus we had hired for the week, stopped at Croagh Patrick to pick up the hearty and hardy climbers, and headed past Croagh Patrick and into the hills for a tour at Mescan Brewery.
But persist she did.
And, despite being two years COVID delayed, we were immensely gratified by the number of people who chose to join us. Both of our girls and their children, our son-in-law and his parents and his sister's family, Candee's sister Pat and her husband and children, our oldest friends Peter and Linda, our oldest Florida friend Carol, work friends from over the years, church friends, All in all, more than two dozen people from the States came to celebrate our life together and their place in it.
I created an informational website to help people plan for all eventualities - weather, different customs, different currency, places to eat, places to hear the best music. pubs where you'd find the best pint...
On the intro page, I wrote these words:
We're so excited that you'll be coming to celebrate our 50th with us in this extraordinarily special place.
You've been a part of our lives - this long and winding road - as we've laughed, stumbled, exulted, struggled, cried, given up, and tried, tried again. You've been there at the high points and the low points, and your presence in our lives has enriched us in immeasurable ways.
You've been a part of our lives - this long and winding road - as we've laughed, stumbled, exulted, struggled, cried, given up, and tried, tried again. You've been there at the high points and the low points, and your presence in our lives has enriched us in immeasurable ways.
Heartfelt words indeed.
We planned an action-packed week for our visitors - full of the sights and scenes and sounds of this wonderful place - and looked so forward to them meeting and enjoying the company of our Irish friends.
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| Fully togged out. Yikes, is it paddywhackery? 😍 |
First to arrive - on Friday - were our girls and grandkids. We started with a "family only" dinner at the Clew Bay Hotel. Family only meant our girls, our grandkids, and our adopted Irish families - the Maddens and the Duffys. It felt that way to all. Both the Yanks and the Irish folk knew so much about one another - stories shared in person, on the blog, through pictures, through anecdotes. We've known the Duffys and the Maddens longer than Eryn's been married, before Lillie and Laander had double digit ages. It was like meeting people you already knew. Our girls were quite aware of the many kindnesses extended by these wonderful people - welcoming we wandering Yanks with warmth and acceptance, helping with mundane chores and the occasional crisis, making us feel a part of things. It was a lovely evening; the perfect way to start the week.
On early Saturday morning, Craig, Grant, and I slipped away to sample a unique local golf course - the Mulranny Golf Links. Shared with sheep, donkeys, and various other creatures, this 100-year-old course is sited on a gorgeous piece of land on the northside of Clew Bay. It might have been the highlight of Grant's visit. Just hanging with the guys...
Later on Saturday, the influx began in earnest - our son-in-law's family - mother, father, sister and husband, their daughter. If there was a group serious about "having the craic," this was it...We had a couple of brief spins around the area and a sampling of some great food and music. Mostly, we stormed Cronin's Sheebeen pub, drinking them dry and eating them out of oysters.
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| A legendary dinner on Saturday night at Cronin's Sheebeen. Thanks Hannah 😀 |
Sunday was a day to settle in and to welcome Candee's sister, her husband, their children, and several friends.
A day to orient and explore, and then most gathered in McGings Pub to enjoy the early music session - The Garibaldis (more about them later) - and to ferry dinner from Westport Woodfire Pizza to the pub, just a few steps away. Grant was having a great old time - just another lad in the pub - until the bartender told him you had to be eighteen to sit at the bar. 😉 Oh well... it didn't seem to dim his spirits.
Someone whose spirits were absolutely fine was Laander, thoroughly enjoying himself in the pubs as a legally drinking eighteen-year-old. Many the selfie sent home to Tampa to his fellas, with either a pint of Hophouse 13 or Guinness in his hand, and reliably composed with a big grin, a smiling bartender and enticing bar in the background.
Sunday night also produced a most memorable moment at Cobblers Pub at their later session. Cobblers' Sunday "trad" (traditional Irish music) session is among the best. There are always three stalwarts present - a fiddler, a guitarist, and a flautist. They're each terrifically talented musicians who can play any song, any genre. But the thing that makes the Sunday session special is that it's an "open session." Locals and visitors are welcome to sit in with their instruments - banjos, squeezeboxes, fiddles, mandolins, guitars - or they're welcome to give the group a song, acapella or accompanied. The fiddler Dan has, on occasion, invited me to join in - "will you give us a song Tom?" - but I always demure, claiming to have a fine instrument, but no pitch control. The every fifth or sixth note that I'm actually able to hit on pitch is a thing of beauty. The journey to get there is not. I always caution Dan that I'd "empty the room..."
On this particular Sunday, Fathers Day, our visitors got a full taste of a high-quality open session. There were a number of solid instrumentalists who joined in, but the most memorable moment was brought by a man from Dublin who was in for the weekend. He sang along with most songs from his perch in a corner of the room, not louder than most, but you could tell he had a good voice and was comfortable sharing it with the crowd. Dan asked him to sing - he said, "a little later" - and made good on his promise as he indicated his willingness after finishing an additional pint or two. He sang "My Old Man" - a poignant song about a father-son relationship in which neither could express verbally the great and complex affection they had for one another. Yer man from Dublin was a showman, and held the Cobblers bunch in his thrall, taking pauses and indicating that a few instrumental breaks would be in order before he resumed with his singing. An unexpected and spellbinding performance on Fathers Day. As happens so often here, a great bit of lucky serendidpity.
The "great arrival" was complete by Monday. Several of our younger - and fitter - visitors chose to take on the mythical Croagh Patrick in the morning. The mountain has been so often described in these pages as our "obsession." Candee and I attempted to climb it over five annual visits, coming tantalizingly closer with each attempt. We finally achieved the summit in 2014. I wrote of this in the blog each year, and our family had developed a curiosity about this fixation of ours to achieve this goal. After descending, the general sentiment among our visitors was shock - matched with concern - that these enfeebled old people attempted, no less made it to the top of, this 2,500 foot extremely arduous climb. 😨😱😂
Mescan's in a remote and simple setting - owner and chief brewer Killian would smirk and say "charmingly rustic" - enough so that it drew a few appraising and skeptical looks from our guests. We were soon settled in, tasting generous portions of Mescan's seven different brews. They specialize in Belgian-style beers and their products were met with general and enthusiastic affirmation, and requests for more. Killian and Naomi's daughters soon presented groaning boards of charcuterie - meats, cheeses, nuts, crackers - and our thirsts were renewed. As was Killian's generosity. It was a gorgeous June afternoon and one talked about throughout the week. A great start for our jolly big group.
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| Charmingly rustic. Mags and her cousin at Mescan |
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| Ladies of style |
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| 🍺🍺Smiling faces 🍺🍺 |
On Tuesday morning, I took the lads to Carne Golf Links in the northwest quadrant of Co. Mayo. A dozen of us climbed on our bus - accompanied by a case of Mescan that Craig's brother-in-law Schalk had purchased on Monday afternoon, on ice and waiting for our drive home. It was a terrific morning for the hour and a quarter drive. We went through hill, mountain, lake and bay to arrive at our site, squeezed between the Atlantic and Blacksod Bay. We started out in low cloud and mist - perfectly atmospheric for this primitive landscape - and watched as the sky brightened and changed to achingly brilliant blue with high white puffy clouds. Nine adventuresome Yanks plus three Irish friends. There was a wonderful sense of anticipation and excitement about playing this legendary course. Even Craig, who's pretty much played every bucket list course in America and Scotland and most every other bucketlister in Ireland, failed to fall back asleep after he had woken up in the middle of the night before. Everyone's game faced a stern test of skill. And, as you'd imagine, the cream rose to the top. Craig, and Marion and Dave (local friends), set the pace; the rest of us just wanted to not get lost among the mammoth dunes and to have a few golf balls left at the end of the round. Heck, I think we did it. Even Laander... :-P A few post-round Guinnesses, a few Mescans on the drive home, and many tales to tell - tall and otherwise.
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| Photo by Aidan Bradley |
We arrived back in Westport in time for a short nap, a regenerative shower and a firm commitment to gather at Matt Molloys to see the incredible After 8's - nine to midnight, a musical tour de force.
Steve, our brother-in-law, would be widely regarded as our "music guy." Wherever we are, if someone's looking for a phone playlist to bluetooth to their speakers, Steve gets the nod. Eclectic, unexpected, extraordinary musicianship and musicality, never-ending selections - good words to describe Steve's lists. That night he had arrived earlier than most. Although the music starts at nine, I always suggest getting to Matt's no later than 8:15 to ensure getting a seat, a high stool - heck, a place to stand. The After 8's have a very enthusiastic following for their regular Tuesday night year-round "residency" at Matt's. Steve later confessed that while watching the ragtag lads set up he wondered whether they'd live up to my billing - they looked like just "a bunch of local fellas." Afterwards, he said he'd relive the night "a hundred times over." Power ballads, anthems, blues, R&B, gospel, 80s, 90s, whatever mood strikes. Five extraordinary musicians with great chemistry and full mastery over their instruments.
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| ragtag bunch of lads |
Most folks stayed to the end, having their fair share of pints, whiskeys, and craic.
Nevertheless, all made it to the bus for a scenic tour on Wednesday morning. We had selected a favorite drive; it was just plain hard to choose what scenery to highlight during our visitors' brief stay. We decided to head out past Croagh Patrick, through the town of Louisburgh, and onto Doolough, Delphi, Killary Harbor, and Kylemore Abbey.
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| land of the "bouncy bog" |
Most folks availed themselves of lunch at Kylemore Abbey, our furthest point before we headed back to Westport. In my opinion, the abbey has one of the finest cafes around. We headed back to Westport - time to rest and get ready for our celebratory anniversary party, held - where else? Well, the Clew Bay Hotel, of course. Darren, Maria and our dear friend Karen Brennan rolled out the red carpet. Great food, unlimited drinks, and wonderful music.
The wonderful music requires a special thanks. We had booked a trio - the aforementioned Garibaldis - fully two years in advance. If you've read the blog, you'd know these people. Eddie Rodgers on sax, Joseph Garvey on guitar, and Stella Garvey on vocals. Eddie's been with many groups we've followed during our visits - The Hip-pocket Trio, Hip-nosis, and an occasional sit-in with The After 8's; Joseph Garvey on guitar, but also a vocalist and keyboardist for The After 8's; and sister Stella (a stone sweetie) who we first met at the Cappuccino Sessions with her brothers - tight familial harmonies and acoustic accompaniment at the Bridge St. pub in nearby Castlebar town. If you've seen me post about the Garibaldis, it's probably been most commonly their version of "Is you is or is you ain't my baby." Great fun.
To continue the story. Eddie called the day before the party, stricken to deliver the news that Joseph, kinda the anchor of the group, had thrown his back out and couldn't get out of bed. Eddie had called just about every musician he knew to see if they could sit in. Many calls, no luck. Poor Eddie said it was one of the hardest calls he's had to make. And we believed him. We know the three well and we share a great deal of mutual respect and affection.
Oh well. Great people, good food, lots of drink - no reason to think the party wasn't going to be a fine fun event.
But, when we got to the Clew Bay, our friend and party invitee Donal Hoban arrived with a small drum set. He was soon followed by an unknown - Dennis McCalmont, with guitar in tow. Jay-sus, what a performer! All the favorites. Every dance song. Every singalong. He played for hours without break (almost) and got the crowd in fine party mood. Although we had given up, Darren had not. He knew his employee Caroline - one of the finest people you're likely to meet - was Dennis' partner. Might he be available to perform that night? She called, turns out he had a guitar in his trunk, and he performed his mission of mercy. The "almost?" That'd be a brief and sweet musical interlude by Hubie and Sarah Mac Evilly, brother and sister musicians, and headliners as the Rocky Top String Band at the annual Westport Folk and Bluegrass Festival (at least they should be headliners, darn it! 😏). We had met them in our very first night in Westport, at the festival, in 2010. Dear and lovely people... It's good to have friends.
At the party, Eryn and Lee considered whether they wanted to make remarks. They both decided that they'd have difficulty holding it together and asked Candee's sister Pat and Peter, a friend from college days, to stand in. Both agreed and did a great job - Pat with heartfelt emotion; Peter with his trademark wry humor and effortlessly clever wordsmithing. BTW, wry does very well with an Irish audience... 😉
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| paddywhat? |
So much energy, so much fun. Lots of conversation and many friendships made. The night was beyond our fondest wishes...
At the end of the week, our daughter Eryn approached me about their experiences. Her comments could be characterized fairly as such - I just knew this would be a great week. I've read the blog for the full fifteen years and knew this was a special place with special people. But I know your ability to tell a tale, your ability to describe an experience - especially a food experience :-P - and I worried just a little bit that it would just not quite meet my hopes and expectations. It far exceeded them.
We hope that most all our visitors felt the same.
We couldn't be more pleased and touched that the folks dearest to us chose to share this week here with us.
Go raibh míle maith agat!
