.: that’s a corker or intersecting rings :.

This autumn, we returned to one of our favourite and inexhaustible travel destinations—Ireland. This time, however, we explored the southwestern extreme of County Cork and the Ring of Beara, on the peninsula just below the Ring of Kerry that we saw in 2008 (before the establishment of Our Little Travel Blog). We landed at Cork International Airport, and after some delays and finding the route at night a little intimidating—plus learning that the key and major landmark to find the cottage by the sea we rented for the week (turn left at the sign “Honey for Sale”) was no longer there (because the man had sold all his honey), we did make it into Adrigole late in the evening. The house itself was a vision of taste and charmingly rustic, fully outfitted and a great base for further exploration.

We got our bearings better in the daylight the next morning and headed to the next larger town to stock up on some provisions (it being a Sunday, and Adrigole, once a boom town had dwindled to one small but storied shop, two pubs and a church) and drove along the coast to Castletownbere (which has the second largest natural harbour in the world after Sidney/Australia!). After walking down main street and the docks, we visited two nearby archeological sites that the Beara Peninsula is rich in: a stone circle and an ancient round fort—then marched about a bit on the perimeter of Puxley and O’Sullivan Bere castles—vanity properties that were testament to those boom days before the Famine and copper mining went bust, as we were to learn more about later.

The next day, we headed in the opposite direction towards Glengariff and the Garinish Island (DE/EN). A little boat took us out into the bay, where we were treated with some native seals basking on rocky outcroppings and it was quite a show. Once the boat landed, we spent a nice couple of hours exploring the Italian Gardens and tropical wonders tended there. After lunch, we headed north towards Kenmare and the Caha Mountain Pass towards County Kerry and Killarney National Park to revisit a few of the scenic outlooks along the Ring of Kerry.

We stopped at the “Druid’s View” near Moll’s Gap and then the “Ladies’ View,” (DE/EN) which were both stunning and always deserve a second look and linger, and we searched for the spot on the shores of Lough Leane where we had stopped before.

Tuesday we went further south, through Bantry, touring the grounds of the imposing manor house and had coffee in their Tea Room, and past the Sheep’s Head Peninsula and onto the most south-westerly point in Ireland: the Mizen Head with spectacular views that peered out to the end of the world, it seemed. The newly completed visitors’ centre opened up onto a steep, breath-taking but accessible, cliff-face where one could cross a bridge that spanned the roaring seas about fifty metres below and see the preserved Marconi signal station, lighthouse keeper’s quarters (the last full-time keeper became redundant in 1993 but turned the hobby he developed while on isolated Mizen Head into a successful framing business), and more roiling waters.

The weather was a bit dicey at times and that did not discourage us for exploring. A lot of people offered their consolations, which made us wonder if this were especially bad. All in all, it was what we expected and many times, we had beautiful, golden afternoons.

The next day, we returned to the Ring of Kerry (DE/EN), first searching out the ancient stone fort at Staigue (DE/EN). This, as was most of our stops along the way, put us in the company of sheep, graffiti tagged so shepherds could tell the flocks apart.

We continued along beautiful Skellig Bay, stopping off at the town of Waterville for lunch—a favoured vacation spot of Charlie Chaplin, too, we learned. We completed the circuit and came back over the Caha Mountains to Kenmare where the rings intersected. That evening, we studied up on Beara and her history and enjoyed a reluctant but pleasant fire in the hearth.

Thursday, we were determined to complete the complete the circuit for the Ring of Beara and went beyond Castletownbere west towards Garnish village and Dursey Island (DE/EN). This other end of the earth hosts the only gondola in Ireland that connects Dursey with the mainland. The operator was on his afternoon break and livestock and Islanders get priority for the limited seating in the gondola so we hiked up and down the cliffs instead. Afterwards, we returned to the Beara Way and stopped again for coffee at the Copper Mine Museum in Allihies—where we had stopped before on a rainer day but were now better equipped with the history of the place and set out to find the abandoned mine works in the hills.

Next, we went along the northern coast, through Urhan, Gort and Eyeries, and eventually found the stone circle of Ardgroom. It is among the best preserved Paleolithic sites in Ireland, but lovated across a very muddy pasture, whose steppingstones sunk like quicksand and a pretty messy affair. We took a short-cut back to the house at Adrigole over the bracing Healy Pass between Sugar Loaf Mountain and the Hungry Hill (DE/EN) that Daphne du Maurier (DE) immortalized in her novel. The experience was terrific but the heavy fog at the summit made us resolve to come back the next day.

Our final day was spent exploring more of Adrigole, ruins of churches hidden high up in the mountains from the times when Catholic observance was persecuted by the ruling English, grand towering waterfalls, the fishing harbours of Adrigole that looked out over the bay and Bere Island, and a few more archeological gems. We approached later the Healy Pass from the Adrigole side and had some spectacular luck with the clearer weather and descended into Kenmare for some afternoon coffee and look at the town. We were sad to tell Ireland that we will see her later, again, but it was a memorable trip and surely an adventure to retrace and further very soon.

.:Die Stadt im Walde:.

Es ist ein Film aus dem Jahr 1938, durch den vermutlich die Phrase „Stadt im Wald“ für Darmstadt geprägt wurde, die heute etwas aus der Mode gekommen ist und dem Charakter der Stadt auch nicht mehr wirklich gerecht wird.


Am Sonntag nach dem Papst-Happening in Erfurt begaben wir uns für einen kleinen Kurztrip dorthin - eigentlich, um J´s Eltern zu verabschieden. Zunächst stand ein Besuch des Bürgerparktviertels mit dem im Jahr 2000 fertig gestellten Hunderwasserhaus ("Waldspirale") auf dem Plan. Von außen fallen die Elemente des Hundertwasser-Stils auf (alle 1000 Fenster sind Unikate), von den Wohnungen selbst sind angeblich nur wenige aus Kostengründen in diesem Design gehalten. Direkt im Anschluss gings rauf zur Mathildenhöhe, das Areal um das berühmte Ateliergebäude brachte Darmstadt den Ruf des "zweiten Zentrums des Jugendstils in Deutschland" (Anm.: nach München) ein. Zu den berühmtesten Bauwerken zählen neben der Künstlerkolonie die Russische Kapelle, der Hochzeitsturm und der Platanenhain.

.: poparazzi :.

We journeyed to the Thuringian capital of Erfurt to meet up with the Pope on the second leg of his first official visit to the former East Germany. Though we started out very early and rushed before the floodgates to the Cathedral Square closed, we found ourselves slowed to a trickle as we wound around a disorientating route through the old city’s alleys and cul-de-sacs to join a massive crush of people, nearly 30,000 who had also come to share this experience.

And it really was something to witness up close and take part in all the pageantry and ceremony, and though it was not a small affair, our audience, we could see everything quite well but the glare of the morning sun made it easier to watch the spectacle on the Jumbotrons (giant television screens), and hard to take pictures, though we did capture him en route in his Pope Mobile.

The sermon and the mass were also very moving: though we saw the Pope because we had the opportunity, I do not think we were just spectators or paparazzi for Cardinal Ratzinger, in was fascinating to be part of that big crowd and his message of rediscovery of one’s faith was strong and regardless of the substance, showed him to be of a character that cares about people and is burdened with worrying, praying for everyone. It was a bit ironic that the Pope preached from the very cathedral where Martin Luther, who was the architect behind the major schism of Western Christianity resulting in Catholics and Protestants, was first ordained as a Catholic bishop. It was challenging to tell if anyone really appreciated that irony. Afterwards, having stood for hours, we were a little tired but both glad to have made the journey and saw it through.

Incidentally, the headline of a major news service read in the hours following, “Pope celebrates Mass in Former Communist East Germany despite Shooting Attempt,” and many things were misleading with this bit of sensational journalism, not the least of which concerned a local resident apprehended about a hour too early and a kilometer too far for trying to shoot one of the ubiquitous police officers with an air rifle from his window and not at all what is sounded like.

.: august august :.

We spent an extended weekend discovering the storied city of Dresden and surrounding Elbe Valley. We came away with a lot of impressions and more insight into the history and circumstance that formed the region. August the Strong (Augustus der Starke) was the Saxon ruler of the early 18th century who was primarily responsible for commissioning all the Baroque embellishments that earned Dresden the title the “Balcony of Europe.”

First, we visited the Grünes Gewölbe (Green Vault) in the Dresdener Residenz and were dazzled by the collection of treasures—a succession of mirrored galleries, faithful reconstructed and stocked with silver, gold and ivory works of art. Afterwards, we strolled through the old town, the Zwinger palace, and along the Brühl Promenade, Europe’s balcony, that runs parallel to the river and commands a view into the streets of town.

In the late evening, we went out to a club, with which we had better luck and more energy for than in our past experiences, that was located in the district of Neustadt, which had a lot of character and once boasted a sort of independent status as the Bunte Republik of Neustadt (DE/EN), an artists’ enclave and a micronation like Freetown Christiania in Oslo, for a short time in the early 1990s.

The next day, we had booked passage on a cruise down the Elbe in a boat that was part of the oldest and largest fleet of paddle-wheel steamships in the world. Before boarding, however, we investigated the vaulted guard chambers that were buried in the fortified walls of the city. There was an interesting history lesson in regards to the patrolling and policing the population and August the Strong kept alchemists in his employment, granting them one clay-lined passageway as a laboratory for potentially dangerous experiments. The mad scientists were charged with discovering the formula, and they were successful, for so-called white gold, porcelain in order to compete with china from China—only the major centers of production were later moved to Meissen.

The steam ship, the Leipzig, as a matter of fact, was antique model but modernized and gleaming, and gave us a relaxed tour of Dresden’s banks, including the new Autobahn bridge that offended UNESCO so much and the Blaues Wunder, a technical marvel still in use and the oldest suspension bridge. There were several palaces along the banks but our destination, some 11 kilometers down the river, was absolutely breathtaking.

The oriental summer palace of August the Strong of Pillnitz was built as a romantic retreat for one of his mistresses and was another baroque masterpiece of architecture and artistry. In the evening, we explored the city some more and took a lot of photographs of the buildings illuminated at night, including the Fürstenzug, an amazing mosaic of Meissen tile that depicts the rulers of Saxony.

The next day, we took another tour around the town that explained more history and allowed us to revisit a few landmarks, and covering more ground in a short time, we had a chance to take a guided tour of the opera house, the Semperoper, which had the most incredible foyer and theatre, including a forerunner to the digital clock, above the stage, so the audience—I guess, did not need to be discrete about checking their watches.

Before our arranged visit to the Frauenkirche, we visited the royal Hofkirche with its strange altar of Meissen porcelain. Rebuilt from collective memory and with resolve and dedication, the towering landmark was as impressive to see from the inside as from the outside. We were a bit overwhelmed with all the adventures and we spent a quiet evening, reflecting on what all we had done and seen.

Unfortunately we had to return home the next day, but the trip was rejuvenating and seemed longer than just a few days. On the way home, we visited another one of August the Strong’s idylls, just a little hunting lodge perched on a mountain deep in the Saxon woods, between Dresden and Chemnitz. For all we saw, there is certainly a lot more to discover and a return trip is definitely in order.

.: bye bye La France :.

Den Donnerstag genossen wir nochmal bei hochsommerlichen Temperaturen. Sonderlich viele Bilder sind nicht entstanden, da wir relativ regungslos am Strand gelegen haben. Um nicht erst am Sonntag eine Punktlandung hinzulegen, beschlossen wir schweren Herzens, die Reise gen Heimat schon am Freitag langsam anzugehen. Am Morgen verließen wir Boyardville in Richtung Festland, kurz vor Erreichen des "Viaduct d´Oléron" (richtig, die kostenlose Brücke) statteten wir der Zitadelle Château d´Oléron (EN/DE) noch einen Besuch ab. Hier hatte ebenfalls der schon etliche Male erwähnte Festungsbaumeister Vauban seine Finger im Spiele, die Zitadelle stellt eine komplexe und bemerkenswerte Befestigungsanlage dar, deren Aufgabe war es, die Mündung der Charente und den Hafen von Rochefort zu schützen. Weiter gings über Marennes nach Brouage (EN/DE), welches ursprünglich ein sehr wichtiger Ort für den Handel mit Salz in Europa war. Im 17. Jh. wurde der Ort zu einer Festung ausgebaut. Nach einem Umbau durch Vauban (wir haben damit übringens bis auf 2 Bauwerke mittlerweile alle seiner Anlagen gesehen!!) verlor sie einen Teil ihrer Befestigungsanlagen. In diesem zauberhaften Ort kann man heute unter anderem das herrliche Gebäude der Halle aux Vivres oder auch das Pulvermagazin Saint-Luc besichtigen. Letzter Stop vorm Sprung auf die Autobahn gen Heimat war die Stadt Saintes (EN/DE). Obwohl der Name so heilig anmutet, geht er eher 'nur' auf eine Gründung durch die Santonen zurück, erstmals erwähnt wurde er jedoch als eine römische Siedlung. Somit verwundert´s auch nicht, dass sich in der sehr mediteran anmutenden Kleinstadt (ca. 28.000 Einwohner) jede Menge interessante 'Überreste' römischer Bauwerke finden lassen. Am bekanntesten ist wohl der Arc de Germanicus (EN/DE), welcher bis Mitte des 19. Jh. noch auf einer römischen Brücke über die Charente stand. Nach einer Besichtigung der Kathedrale Saint-Pierre suchten wir im wahrsten Sinne des Wortes nach einem zweiten recht berühmten römischen Bauwerk in Saintes - dem Amphitheater, dessen Vorhandensein die Bedeutsamkeit der Stadt in römischer Zeit untermalt. Obwohl überall in der Stadt vorbildlich kleine Wegweiser die Richtung zeigen sollten, hatten wir doch eher den Eindruck, dass hier Touristen auf eine Schnitzeljagd geschickt wurden.
Schweren Herzens verließen wir die Charente-Maritme dann gegen 16.30 Uhr. Um auf der weiteren Rückreise gut an Paris vorbeizukommen (was eigentlich immer heißt, dass man gut durch Paris kommen muss...), begaben wir uns auf die A 10, passierten dann Poitiers, Tours, Orléans und gegen 22.30 Uhr auch Paris. Ursprünglich war noch einen Zwischenübernachtung geplant, aber von unsagbarer Erholung gekennzeichnet entschlossen wir uns für die Non-Stop-Weiterreise. Einzig 'Lady' durfte eine kurze Verschnaufpause haben und sich einen kräftigen Schluck aus dem Ölkanister gönnen. In den frühen Morgenstunden erreichten wir Saarbrücken, gegen 10.30 Uhr landeten wir dann nach einer Gesamtfahrstrecke von ca. 1.200 km wohlbhalten aber doch recht müde wieder im Unterfränkischen. Die kommenden Tage werden wohl dazu dienen, erstmal alles 'sacken' zu lassen und das Bildmaterial zu sortieren, insges. haben wir mal wieder so 1.500 Bilder auf den Speicherkarten. Ein besonderer Dank geht an unsere mittlerweile 27-jährige Wohnung auf Rädern, die uns während dieses 3000-km-Trips nicht ein einziges Mal (!) im Stich ließ oder auf unangenehme Weise überrascht hat...

.: chariots of fire :.

Ende letzter Woche nur auf Badewetter zu hoffen, war nicht unser Ding. Nachdem wir die Düne von Pilat hinter uns gelassen haben, fanden wir ca. 50 km südlich bei Mimizan einen schönen Platz am malerisch gelegenen Etang d’Aureilhan (die Einheimischen nennen ihn nur “Le Lac”). Unterwegs stießen wir noch auf einen “Brocante” (dt. Flohmarkt), wo’s einige Kleinigkeiten zu ergattern gab. Am See angekommen, nutzten wir den restlichen schönen Tag für eine Kanufahrt auf dem See. Da wir irrsinnigerweise meinten, wir müssten ihn in dieser Nußschale mittig überqueren, stellte sich der Muskelkater auch bereits am Abend und nicht erst am kommenden Tag ein. Am Sa. Abend zog’s dann wettertechnisch etwas zu, voller Hoffnung haben wir dann am kommenden Morgen die Augen ganz langsam geöffnet – geholfen hat’s wenig. Uns erwartete ein mehr oder weniger verregneter Sonntag, den wir aber wenigstens für eine längere Radtour ans Meer nach Mimizan-Plage nutzen konnten. Der Montag startete noch düsterer mit heftigstem Regen… am Vorabend hatten wir schon beschlossen, beizeiten in die Gänge zu kommen und ggf. zu “flüchten”… und das taten wir dann auch :-). Nach einem Blick auf’s Wetter versprach der Norden etwas bessere Aussichten, also eilten wir in einem 4-Stunden-Ritt durch’s Medoc und über die Fähre von Royan auf die Ile d’Oleron. Und das war dann wohl ‘ne gute Entscheidung, denn unmittelbar nachdem wir die (diesmal im Gegensatz zur benachbarten Ile de Re kostenlose) Brücke überquert hatten, klarte es auf. Entgegen der Empfehlung des Navi’s fanden wir im Reiseführer die die empfehlenswerte Route des Huitres direkt an der Ostküste entlang, die uns an den Austernfarmen vorbeiführte, die die Insel so berühmt machten (Anm.: nicht nur berühmt, sondern in bescheidenem Maße wohl auch vermögend, wie der aus Kilometern Entfernung bereits sichtbare gigantische Kirchturm von Marennes auf dem Festland beweist). Vor den Toren von Boyardville fanden wir einen schönen Campingplatz mitten in einem Fichtenwald direkt hinter der Düne. Am Abend fand sich Zeit für einen ausgedehten Strandspaziergang, Fort Boyard dist zum Greifen nah. Am Diestag wurde die Jagd nach gutem Wetter belohnt, wir unternahmen wieder ne längere Radtour an der Ostküste der Insel bei sonnigen 23 Grad.

On Wednesday, extending our stay in the campsite in the Saumonards Forest fronting the Grand Plage by Point Boyard, we decided to devote the day to a longer bicycle excursion, seeking out firstly the Côte Sauvage (Wild Coast) on the Atlantic side of the island. I suppose it is a good thing that we are on an island, since it is a bit more of a challenge to get hopelessly lost; we discovered soon that the bike trails were rather incomplete and the signage was lacking. Braving the main thoroughfares, we crossed to the village of Dolus, brilliantly white-washed and very Mediterranean looking. There we went to the beach that is apparently a big draw for surfers, and it did have a different character than our base-camp beach and the waves were stronger. We followed the coast line for a while to La Continiére and meandered on calmer roads through the island capital of St. Pierre, had a coffee and tried to gain our bearings. St. Pierre has an imposing 12th century church tower that made a good guide-point in town, which though inland burned with an eternal flame as a beacon for those lost at sea. After that, however, we were navigating on memory and the direction of the setting-sun, gambling on a short-cut through more fields of oyster-culture and little ranch-lands riveted with salt-water canals. We did make it through these glades and back through the nearby town of Boyardville, which if I am interpreting the city-limits signs and a bumper-sticker correctly—is declaring independence from the Republic of France over zoning laws. I will have to look into this revolution later. We ought to have a few more days in the sun to come.