The Arrival!

After five great days playing tourist, the need to be where Midwatch and the Bobs would arrive became too much for the land-crew. We travelled southeast down the N-22 from Killarney to Cork and felt our way to the small harbor town of Crosshaven. We had an old road atlas the car-hire folks had loaned us that wasn’t quite up-to-date, no GPS were available. Add in the narrow roads, construction detours and the strange place names and we had several moments of “Where are we?” We did eventually make it to Crosshaven, a town on the southwest corner of the large, natural Cork Harbour. Crosshaven is known as the sailing capital of Ireland and we had made reservations at the Royal Cork Yacht Club, the oldest yacht club in the world! We drove in along the river, four hours early for our B&B reservation, and immediately spotted the yacht club. It is a series of blue buildings along the river’s edge with a parking lot full of racing boats.

Through the afternoon we explored the small village. It was a beautiful sunny day and folks were out enjoying the sunshine and kids were playing on the village green. I was still recovering from my bout of the Irish Revenge and Judy and I sat in the sunshine while Anna led a group “little kids” in assorted games of Simon Says, Duck Duck Goose, and Hide and Seek (Which is a bit tough on a village green). Later we headed down to check out the Yacht Club and the small tourist information office located next door. The very helpful, older gentleman, Dennis, at the tourist office asked me where we were staying and I was surprised when he said he did not know the place. I told him we were supposed to meet the hostess at the Car Park in the village at five. At quarter to five, while waiting in the car park, here comes Dennis, letting us know that he had researched the B&B for us, found the web site that I had found and that he did not know where it was located. Judy and I began to wonder what we had got ourselves into. We met the very nice lady at five and followed her to her terraced home overlooking the harbor. The two rooms she had were very nice and the view was fantastic but the nagging, uncomfortable feeling that it wasn’t quite right, and the two dogs, were enough for us to decide to move on. We tried another B&B, recommended by the tourist office, and found no vacancies and they recommended an older but comfortable hotel on the other side of town.

We headed over to a third place and moved into room number 25 of the Whispering Pines Lodge with a fantastic view down the river to the Royal Cork Yacht Club. A new restaurant has just opened at the Whispering Pines and there is a lovely path along the river right to the marina. We were happy.

 

We spent the morning of Day 200 catching up on school work (an impossible task), had another picnic lunch on the village green and spent the afternoon scoping out places to take photos of Midwatch as she approached the harbor. We got ourselves into more than one scrape trying to navigate the little tiny lanes that spiderweb their way along the coast but eventually found a small park with a spyglass telescope and a bench, and more importantly, a parking lot.

We stopped in at the tourist office to fill in Mr. Dennis on the lodging saga. He had let us know he was anxious to know what had happened and he wanted to hear the news of “Himself”, the common acronym for husband here in Ireland.  We then headed back to the hotel so Finn could have a nap. I got Finn into bed and then headed down stairs to check if we had received any more emails from Bob. A note that morning had said they would probably arrive late evening. It is light until past 11 so we were hoping we would see them before it got too dark.

A new email had arrived and they had made great time that day, I projected their path and realized that they could arrive as soon as five PM and it was already three! I headed back up and the excitement was too much, Finn could not go to sleep. We also didn’t know how long it would take them to get from our selected photo spot to the dock so we jumped in the car and headed up the hill to the lookout point. We had a long wait. Boat after boat left and entered the harbor. Anna analyzed each boat through the telescope and let us know why it wasn’t them until the sea fog came in thick enough to completely obscure any view of the water.  We headed back down the hill and over to the yacht club to continue the vigil.

We were very disappointed to discover that the restaurant at the yacht club only serves food on race days so we settled in for a dinner of crisps and minerals (potato chips and soda pop) while we sat in the bay window of the club. The kids, specifically Finn, had reached a point of frenzied excitement which was evident to everyone at the club. Soon, everyone was waiting for Midwatch to arrive. The bartender even called her dad, who could see the entrance of the harbor from his house, and asked him to keep an eye out for an American boat entering the harbor, white with a blue stripe. I received a new email from Bob that they had been boarded by customs and the entrance formalities were done but that had delayed them a bit; they expected to arrive at seven. Seven came and went and the nail biting began. “What if they ran out of diesel?” “Could they find their way in the fog? And other, unspoken, worries began to creep into our heads, but around eight, the bartender’s Dad called in to say that Midwatch was entering the harbor. We breathed a huge sigh of relief.

We watched from the bay windows in the bar until we saw them snaking their way through the moored yachts and headed down to the docks. I found the friendly dock boy who radioed “Yacht Midwatch” in his thick Cork accent and we were thrilled to hear Bob’s voice respond. He guided them to the far docks and we slowly made our way down the main dock and out to the end of the finger where they would come in.

In all the excitement, we completely forgot about videoing the arrival. I guess my bravado that I better be the one to do it because everyone else would be too emotional, was just that. I was ready to catch the lines though and Grandma and the kids anxiously waited, just out of the way of the dockhand, another sailor and me. As Midwatch carefully approached, we first glimpsed Grampa on the bow and as Bob, at the helm, came into view I glanced back at Grandma and kids. Finn’s eyes were filling with more more tears than I had ever seen, on anybody. I shouted for Grandma to get a picture, but alas, she was a bit too emotional for that too. We got the boat tied and the bumpers placed and I hoisted Finn up to Bob. Anna scrambled on board too and they swarmed Daddy’s lap.





 

 

 

Just at this moment, three customs officers interrupted this family reunion and Grampa chatted gaily with them, telling them of the exciting customs boarding on the high seas. They didn’t check papers or make a call but told us we were done and headed home.

The good news was customs was done! Bob and Grampa could join us at the Whispering Pines for the evening, a good night’s sleep; and better yet a good breakfast in the morning.