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.
way to the Caledonian Canal and is just plain a coolplace. The scenery is spectacular and everything you
might imagine. The weather sucks just as
much as you have heard as well. So when
the sun peaks through you just gasp at the beauty but you spend a lot of time
hunkered down in your foul weather gear.
set her in Mark the chair in the cockpit
and tell her when to wave to the folks we pass by. Her vision is pretty sketchy...we are all
crossing our fingers that she will get a good nights sleep tonight and wake up
herself in the morning.
