Ireland Archives - Sail Element

Regarding the Schengen Visa…

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One question – among many – that is easy to misunderstand with international law and diplomacy is the Schengen Visa system implemented in Europe. For people from the USA who have ever traveled for a few days or weeks at a time, this is not a problem. Most people never even come close to 90 days in one region other than their own home. But for those of us who have floating homes and spend significant amounts of time abroad, visas are a huge issue.

The Schengen Visa is an agreement among most of the European Union to allow “borderless” travel. This means, for instance, you can drive from Germany into France and you’ll see no more than a road sign that says “Welcome to Germany”… no border or passport checks. This is also pretty awesome for cruising around the Schengen Area. It makes checking in and out of countries easy and relaxed as long as you’re within that 90-day window.

However, there are a LOT of misconceptions about what happens when this 90-day clock starts to run out.

The newest wording of the agreement stands thusly (as of October 2013):
“The maximum duration of authorized stay is defined as 90 days in ANY 180-day period.”

The technical calculation of “90 days in ANY 180 day period” is explained like this, taken word for word from the European Commission Schengen handbook, AND restated to me by a Portuguese immigration officer:
“The notion of ANY implies the application of a ‘moving’ 180-day reference period, looking backward at each day of the stay (be it at the entry or at the day of an actual check), into the last 180-day period, in order to verify if the 90-day/180-day requirement continues to be fulfilled.”

In other terms, there is a rolling 180 day period starting from any day to 180 days back. A non-EU, non-Schengen citizen may only stay in the Schengen area with a “Short Stay Visa” (the normal passport stamp) 90 days during that period.

To explain further: say you are on your first day of staying in the Schengen Area, you just got your passport stamped. You have stayed 1 day in any 180 day period. Day One, looking 180 days back. Then you stay 90 days, and on that day, you leave (not on day 91, that would be overstaying). The next day is day 91 of that 180 day period. On the 181st day, the day you would be eligible to return, the counter does not reset! If you return on day 181, that 180 days is still rolling, but now you’re ticking off time from that first 90 days, meaning you can spend another 90 days. In this situation, the counter would always remain at 90, technically subtracting one and adding one every day.

The important thing to remember is that the days roll on: always 180 days back from the day you are on.

One factor that is commonly misunderstood is that some people believe there is some way to simply “reset” the Schengen Visa clock. Like, go out somewhere, get a stamp, and come back in and the clock resets? Let me restate something that I think people misunderstand:

THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS “RESETTING” A SCHENGEN VISA.

It doesn’t exist. You cannot just leave and come back in and you get another 90 days.

There is only one way to legally stay in the Schengen Area after your 90 day time is up: an official long-stay visa from a Schengen member state would technically supersede the 90-day stamp. But, this process is not easy. It requires a lengthy and relatively expensive application process and almost always includes an interview at the embassy of a Schengen state.

I say “only one way to legally stay in the Schengen Area” but there is one alternative: the Portuguese Extension.

The Portuguese Option

Now, Portugal is a different matter. Yes, it is in the Schengen Area, but they have maintained a simplified visa extension system. It is possible only in Portugal (for the moment), but it requires a rather elaborate process. I have personally talked to one of the officers in charge of making the decision for such visas, and this officer explained that the deciding factor is usually based on need or extenuating circumstances.

I asked this immigration officer: “So, being stuck in Portugal in order to avoid hurricane season?” Their answer, although noticeably noncommittal: “This person would have a good chance to be given an extension.” I asked: “So, if someone just wanted to cruise around another season?” Their answer (after a sigh): “Every other factor would have to be exactly right…” (Referring to the extensive visa application process that includes proof of funds, background check, and etc, etc.)

At the time the visa extension is normally used for one or two 30-day extensions, but I’m not aware of – nor was my immigration contact – any cruisers who have tried to get three extensions. I mean, Portugal isn’t really that big, guys!

But, keep in mind, this particular visa extension gained in Portugal is NOT a Schengen Visa extension for the Schengen Area: the extension is for Portugal ONLY. If you are caught outside of Portugal with the Portugal extension, you will be in violation of the 90-day Schengen Visa.

So, how do you keep cruising after your 90-day in any 180-day is up? The Schengen Exile.

The Schengen Exile

Here’s how we dealt with our Schengen Exile:
We sailed from Ireland (outside Schengen) to France (in Schengen). We entered the Schengen Area in Brest, France. In Brest, we made certain we got our stamp into the Schengen Area stamped in our passports. We sailed down from France, Spain, Portugal, and Spain again. At the end of this time, we were getting pretty close to our 90-day limit, something like 83 days in the Schengen Area.

Then, we came to Gibraltar. (Gibraltar is the same as the UK: six months Visa-free for USA citizens.) We arrived to Gibraltar, and we had to go to the Frontier to have our into Gibraltar stamps put in our passports. This stopped the Schengen Visa clock with one week to go. So, now, we have to stay outside the Schengen Area for 90 days (technically, 90 minus one week because we were one week early). We are staying in Gibraltar for that entire period. (Maybe we bounce down to Morocco a time or two for a little variety, because it is outside Schengen Area, of course.) At the end of our “Schengen exile” we will be able to re-enter the Schengen area by getting a new Schengen Visa stamp in the passport. This will allow another 90 days of time.

Remember that 180 days rolling? We were in 83 days, then we stayed out 90. When we re-enter the Schengen Area, we will be chipping away at that time all the way back in March when we first came to France. And, we’re on our way to the USA, so we only need about 45 days of our second 90 day period to get out of the Canary Islands.

Conclusion

Confused much? Yeah, this stuff is thick. International law is really really complicated, but after looking at this stuff for years and years now, it actually does make sense. At least, it makes sense enough to know how to stay out of trouble.

The moral of the story is just don’t push it. Don’t try to outsmart the system just for a little fun or extra sailing time. The Schengen rules and enforcement of them are quite serious. It can mean your passport could get flagged at borders and denied entry. Some places will literally stamp a big “OVERSTAY” in your passport. The fines are serious. And/or you could be arrested and/or your boat impounded until it all gets straightened out!

Now, I suppose I should state that legal thing where I say, “I’m not a lawyer, so take this at your own risk.” I do hope it helps someone who is confused about how the Schengen Visa system works. And I hope that it will avoid some people getting in trouble in the future!

PS: The Schengen Visa a completely different situation from the EU VAT tax clock. That has nothing to do with you as a person, that has to do with your boat. For people who are interested in that, I can answer a few of those questions, too – email me. We don’t deal with it much because our EU VAT tax is paid. There is a fairly clear explanation here over at Noonsite. Their explanation of the Schengen Visa on the same page is slightly outdated, but it is accurate (practically speaking).

In the middle of St.Patrick’s…

By: Noah D.

Travel will teach you things. It will teach you marvelous things. But it will also teach you to fail. Or, rather, teach you that failing is not the end of the story… let alone something to be feared.

We attempted to cross the Celtic Sea on March 14. We made it around 25 miles before turning back: the sea was not having it. Massive swells pushed us farther and farther off course. Simply tacking would only send us back up the coast. Disappointed, we turned back.

And then St.Patrick’s Day came to pass.

What began as a simple call to get tickets at the Cork Opera House for an evening of Irish music somehow turned into various people calling us back. And then we had seats with our names on them in the grand stand for the parade, which turned into access to the parade itself… followed by a brisk walk through the city to a private room in a pub and sat down beside a famous radio personality… and then the Lord Mayor of Cork. They said, “Sit here.” …and there we sat, a constant stream of people greeting the personalities and us not knowing that we were really nothing special.

We experienced St.Patrick’s Day from the inside. We saw Cork with all its dressings on and from behind the curtain.

It has occurred to me that my date stamps are wrong. It is 2015, after all…

If you seat yourself next to a king, anyone can ask you to get up and move. If a king seats you next to him, only a king can move you. The world is full of people trying to get themselves seated next to a king… or look like they have been seated there. We just got blown in by the sea.

Who knows what disappointment holds? Whatever happens, it is going to be good…

The first miles: Kilmore Quay to Crosshaven…

By: Noah D.

We’ve almost sailed 1,000 miles aboard Proteus. Most of that was coming from Ipswich. And we’ve sailed a little around the east coast of Ireland as far north as Greystones just a few miles outside Dublin.

But now we’re headed home.

Ah, but where is home? As we were driving a rental car from a day trip to downtown Cork the other day, Lynn said that she felt as if she is going back home every time we walk or drive or ride back to Proteus. It is as normal to walk or drive in obscure lands (even after a mere six months aboard) as others might drive through the same subdivision in which they grew up and now have families of their own. We might be in a random marina or boat yard, but those are just the changing scenery – like a scene from “Inception” in which the world is able to be folded back on itself or flicked through with each tumble down the rabbit hole. We land in a place and it immediately becomes “the street where we live” and the dock is the sidewalk to our front door. We step onto Proteus and down the companionway and we are suddenly home.

In a few short weeks, we will likely be in tropical climes and dealing with five or six layers of sunscreen instead of five or six layers of clothes to go out and watch for crab pots. And then that will be our home, all hot and sweaty, our beds draped with mosquito nets.

Without as much as a flutter of wind, we departed Kilmore Quay in the wee hours before dawn on 10 March. The earlier the better because a slight gale was forecasted for the northwest and we wanted to be in Cork before it got messy. There was about 2-3m swell coming from the Atlantic, so motoring was a little hurk-worthy until we got the sail up a few hours later. It doesn’t take much wind to get Proteus moving nicely, but 2-3kts is aggravating.

All in all it was a great first sail down to Crosshaven. We sailed into Cork harbour almost perfectly downwind just as a big rain cloud appeared on the horizon obscuring an otherwise great sunset.

Now, why Crosshaven? Why didn’t we just cross directly from Kilmore Quay down south to France? It is almost exactly the same distance from Cork to Sevenstones or Scilly as it is from Kilmore Quay. The difference is the motion of the ocean and the prevailing winds. Coming 70-80 miles farther west will put the (occasionally significant) Atlantic swell on our quarter rather than on our beam. Also, the winds, if directly from the south, would force us to tack back and forth into and out of the Bristol Channel… and all the crazy tidal currents that entails. Hopefully, from Cork the wind will be more favorable, and, even if it is directly on our nose, we will be able to tack less and/or simply let the wind be our guide and suck us across the English Channel to Brittany.

As always, the weather is extraordinary. I cannot believe how random it is! Just the other day, since we’ve been watching for this upcoming crossing, there was a huge weather system that was going to push 8m seas and 50kts wind into the Celtic Sea on Tuesday or Wednesday of next week… then, I checked it yesterday and it was completely gone, not a stitch of wind increase for the next week. It must be that time of year.

Ireland has been good to us, but, if all goes well, our next update will be from France. Stay tuned…

[UPDATE: We aborted our first attempt crossing to France after the sea state worsened to 3 and 4 meter swells on our beam and a crossing wind on our nose. Beating upwind and heeling into major swell is miserable, slow going: for every step forward, we were taking two steps sideways. We’re still in Crosshaven for another few days waiting on the conditions to improve… I’m okay with that!]

Of course, you know Lynn…

…but our new crew and travel companion is Philip. More on him at a later date. 😉

Proteus is our child…

By: Noah D.

What on earth have we been doing for the past month of silence on this blog?

Everything under the sun. (Well… whenever there is sun.)

I’ve installed the new AIS and VHF splitter (which required running a second GPS receiver, a new NMEA cord to the helm chartplotter – I had to wait on it to come from the USA – and the physical installation of the units in a tiny little space) and I found how much a mess the nervous system of this boat is after 20 years of build-up. (And whoever did it was insane.) I dismantled one toilet entirely to unblock a blockage and partially disassembled the other to install a proper anti-siphon… which proved to me that I have my Dad’s iron stomach. New LED navigation lights are also installed… the old ones stood full of water half the time. However, now the green side has a decidedly blue hue, but they are super bright. Also, we installed all new LED interior lights and red night lights after two fixtures decided to go out completely. Lynn has been up the mast twice: once to retrieve the lazyjack halyard that broke during the Celtic Sea storm… and then again a few days later because I dropped it and it ran 20ft up the mast. And speaking of lazyjacks, we got everything restitched and I rebuilt the track on the side of the boom (that had also been ripped off in the Celtic Sea). The whole cockpit enclosure and dodger has been removed, treated, restitched, and reinstalled… we had a dodger window blow out during a storm. We have two new halyards and a clean bill of health for the rigging after a survey.

What do we have left? Our generator is still not running right. Some of Ireland’s best and brightest mechanics have been working on it and there’s still something amiss. It’ll come around…

Also, we’re going to have the boat lifted out briefly for a bottom spray before our trip south. It is amazing how much crap grows on the bottom of a boat in 6 months… even with good anti-fouling!

Finally, we’ve been out for a little sail up the coast from Kilmore Quay to Arklow. And we’ll be in Greystones before too long to be close to Dublin for final provisioning and picking up our new companions for the Big Trip south.

Expect the updates to come more frequently as we begin our adventure. I hope you’ll stay tuned…

At night with the Celtic Sea & the RNLI…

By: Noah D.

If you spend any time in marinas, ports, and coastal towns in the British Isles, there’s an acronym that seems to be everywhere. Literally. Go in any gas station, cafe, pub, ferry terminal, etc, and you’ll see something about the RNLI somewhere.

For my American readership – or those who are only familiar with the militarized USCG – it might come as a surprise that the RNLI is actually run as a not-for-profit charity. It is an NGO. Even more astounding to me is the fact that most of these guys are un-paid, but highly skilled, volunteers. Seeing them in action first-hand and then finding out that they’re doing it basically for free is truly amazing.

The Conditions

We headed out of Falmouth early on Monday morning. Just before 6am, actually. In England this time of year, that means two hours before dawn. Our weather window was a solid 48 hours and we were projected to arrive in Cork around 5pm the following day if we maintained a moderate speed. But the Atlantic fronts that were coming in were not expected to be overly strong, just a jump from 15kts to maybe 25kts of wind: certainly nothing that a reef in the main wouldn’t take care of. Well… as we rounded Lands End just before dark (4:30pm) and headed northwest toward Cork, Ireland, the wind shifted… to the northwest. This meant beating a due north course for a while in the deep darkness of the Bristol Channel.

This wasn’t that bad, either. The tides were with us and we were clocking an easy 6+kts in 15kts of air with precautionary reefs in the main and jib. I don’t think we saw 20kts flash on the anemometer the whole night and the seas were slight although with a normal North Atlantic swell. Add this with the VHF forecasts from the MET Office every three hours forecasting Force 4 to 5 that would be shifting from north-northwest toward the west and to the west-southwest… this was backed up by PassageWeather (checked via phone before we lost 3G service off Lands End). So, everything was looking good for our landfall.

Well… the winds only shifted around dawn and by that point we were quite far off our rhumb line. But they did shift! And we made straight for our destination on an easy, fast, port tack. There were a few moments we were hauling along over 7kts over the ground. We felt good! Tired, but good!

Around this time, we were out of range of the VHF aerials. We could hear the high-power HM Coast Guard announcements for the weather, but when we switched to the proper channel, the actual broadcast was too weak to make any sense. No matter… the forecasts all had been fine.

By the time we were in range of the Irish CG weather broadcasts, there was a Wind Warning and Small-craft Advisory in effect. This meant that there had been a new update superseding the previous mild conditions and moving up the bad weather almost a full six hours. Dark fell and we were at two reefs still pounding upwind and against the waves (but still making well over 5kts). We were less than 50 miles offshore and we decided to turn downwind and make for the closest coast. With the main down and flying a tiny scrap of headsail, we blew down wind and kept up with the building waves. We headed as close as we dared to quarter the following seas and the wind coming out of the west.

I was manually steering of course because no autopilot can handle stuff like that. So Lynn was reading aloud from the Reeds Almanac for a place to go. Around 20 miles offshore – also past 2200 hours – we attempted calling a marina before it got too late to see if we could reach a harbourmaster. When we called Kilmore Quay, the harbourmaster did not answer, but fishing vessel Mary Catherine broke in: “Nobody is there this time of night, but if you’ll go to Channel 12, I might could help you.”

Again, I’m steering, and Lynn talked to F/V Mary Catherine on the VHF for a little while to find out information about the area and see what we could do about shelter. One of his suggestions was to call the Kilmore Quay lifeboat station and see what they recommend. Until now, I had only thought that the lifeboat was literally that: a boat to save lives. And, we certainly were not entering “life threatening” status yet. But, with an uncertain (but low-er) amount of fuel and still almost 3 hours off the coast, motoring upwind, into the current, and against the waves was a dubious prospect. We still bombed along at more than 7kts with barely any sail up.

It was about this time that I calculated that we were probably going to miss the southeastern tip of Ireland. Which would have put us many many more hours at sea before landing somewhere in Wales. If we passed around Tuskar Rock, there might be a chance of the seas calming down enough for us to motor upwind into Rosslare or Wexford, but still… it was a chance.

So, call the lifeboat station, we did. Of course, the Rosslare Coast Guard talked to us for a little while, and dispatched the lifeboat to see what assistance they could provide. By that point, the seas were ridiculous and the wind gusts were flashing 40kts… 42kts… Finally, instead of trying to transfer any fuel over to us, the decision was made to simply tow us the rest of the way in to Kilmore Quay. And, out they came. Like something from a movie, this massive powerboat, lit with millions of candlepower spotlights, came barreling out of the 4-5 meter seas as a tank might growl over rolling hills. They threw over a tow rope as big around as your forearm and drug all 24,000lbs of Proteus through Force 8-9 winds and huge waves the two hours to safety. In fact, it was like we weren’t even there: they pulled us at over 6kts for two hours as we held on for quite a wild ride. Not one I would ever want to take again, mind you.

Now, sitting here at Kilmore Quay, we are fine. Proteus is fine (although a little shaken up, literally and figuratively). Some people say: “Respect the sea.” And, prior to this, I would have said: “Yes, I do respect the sea!” But that’s akin to reading all about travel and foreign lands without ever having set foot on a plane.

I tell you now: we sailors of Proteus, we respect the sea. I’ve lived near and on water my entire life, but no movies or books or photographs can tell you what it is really about out there. And, secondly, we respect the first-responders – the men of RNLI lifeboat 16-18 – that came out to make sure we made it into their harbour safely.

The Aftermath

So, you may wonder, how “at risk” were we really…

To be completely honest, any offshore passage like this is a risk. However, a powerful and well-equipped sailing vessel like Proteus cuts down those risks significantly. And – not meaning to sound at all prideful – but we took precautions a long time ago in our sailing studies and research that assisted us in heavy-weather sailing like what we experienced on the Celtic Sea: there is no substitute for knowing what to do in particular situations.

But, most importantly, we had the assistance of F/V Mary Catherine at first, then the Rosslare CG, and finally the guys at RNLI Kilmore Quay to come fill in the gaps to make sure that we never were classified as a “vessel in distress.”

Proteus never took on water (except into the cockpit) and never suffered a knockdown, but the situations were such that the RNLI weren’t just making a milk run. Talking to the guys later at 3am tea, one of the lifeboat crew told me: “We’ve all been there.” Perhaps he was just being gracious, but if I’m taking steps to someday be as capable and as good of a seaman as the crew of the 16-18 by going through a Fastnet gale, I’m almost glad it all happened the way it did.

But… if it is up to me? Never again.

Could we have done anything differently? I’m actually not sure. Talking to a few people and analyzing the situation, it was a case of a winter North Atlantic frontal system doing its normal thing and saying: “Haha! You think you can predict me!? Gotcha!!” Had we kept significant spare fuel on board, I might have felt better about powerboating upwind and upwaves into such conditions. If we continued to live in the high-latitudes – which we have no intention of doing – we could have done well with a storm trysail and a storm jib. I feel fairly confident that the added stability of forward motion would have contributed to our comfort on board. Another option would have been to heave-to and wait it out. But by that point, the main was down and putting up a double-reefed main in those conditions would have been foolhardy.

A New Chapter Begins

We are young at this. I’ve been sailing more than a decade and this was my first true test of serious gale conditions. Even after 700 miles of sucky English winter weather, this ratcheted up the playing field considerably. However, the inexperienced become experienced through experience: not by reading books or by sitting at the quayside. Next time, it might be 800 miles offshore instead of a mere 12. The things we learned in this gale will keep us safe and make the difference when no lifeboats are on hand.

Our original destination was Cork, Ireland, to keep the boat over Christmas and the “worst of the winter weather” as we prepare for our Big Trip this spring. As luck would have it, I suppose, we could not have landed in a better place. Kilmore Quay has a relatively small marina, but it is a true, old-school, maritime village. It has everything that we need. So, this will be our base until we head south in the spring.

Lynn and I look forward to seeing flowers bloom and heading back toward the sun again. For that, stay tuned…

Ireland experience…

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By Noah D.

So, in lieu of boat news at the moment–but of course that is coming along–we actually do go out and do things from time to time. Living in London, it would be an absolute shame not to explore a little of the region. In a matter of days, we decided to use a three-day-weekend wisely to the time we actually began our little excursion and we fully planned our getaway. By “planned,” I should mention, I use that term loosely: you’ll see why in a moment.

This particular time, we took a little trip to Ireland. Now I’d been to Ireland (and specifically Dublin) but this was Lynn’s first trip to the Land of Éire. Flights to Dublin from any number of the 291 airports in the London metro area cost in the £100 range per ticket. Including the cost to get out to whatever airport it might be (Heathrow costs as little as a few quid if you take the tube but the Heathrow Express from Paddington costs £20, Gatwick Express from Victoria costs £17 or so, etc) there must be a better way…

There is.

It is nice to get to sea somehow from time to time. There’s a RailSail double ticket that cost us just around £40 per person per way. The train goes from London to Holyhead in northwest Wales; then the ferry leaves from there to Dublin. The whole thing cost only £162 for the round trip for two people, taxes and such included. Certainly better than we could have done flying.

However, the cheap route comes with a little baggage. And not the rolling kind. I consider it a plus, actually, because it adds the feeling as though you’re actually traveling rather than teleporting from place to place in the metal tubes.

The first few hours after departing Euston Station in London, we stood with our stuff in the connecting area between train cars. Completely due to the fact that we were taking the train at one of the busiest parts of the week (Saturday morning at 9am), all the other travelers and commuters were on their way out of London to the north and to Wales. To fully grasp this, you must do it someday. Fifteen or twenty people with all their bags, and breakfast, and sweat, in a curved space about one meter wide and three or four meters long. But, to our advantage, we did have the bathroom inches away. Whatever advantage that might be.

We only stood or leaned or sat in this crawlspace for a little over an hour. Maybe ninety minutes. I think it was at Crewe there was a mass exodus and we got a seat for the rest of the trip. It is in these moments that people’s true nature shine. In the midst of so much calmness and resignation to the situation, there are spastic ninnies who seem to be unable to handle a bit of mild discomfort. Without giving them any more space than they deserve for now, I say to you: never be the spastic ninny.

One concern that every traveler must consider is when changing modes of transportation (for instance, rail to ferry or rail to airport) how far is one mode of transportation from the other and will there be an unforeseen middle mode of transportation. If you are traveling to France via Portsmouth Harbour, there’s a little connection to be made there that likely involves either a brisk walk or a brief taxi. Holyhead, on the other hand, requires a very brief stroll: the ferry terminal is literally inside the train station. It’s… like… a hundred meter walk.

Check-in was similar to checking in to any other ferry or airline terminal. Considering we were about to go to another country–the Republic of Ireland is not part of the United Kingdom–there was surprisingly lackadaisical security. I’m not actually sure I got checked. Our bag was checked like an airport and I’m sure it was scanned eventually, but otherwise, my “personal bag” was nigh untouched.

A brief bus trip took us directly onto the ferry. No surprises there.

The ferry itself was actually just fine. Most of these ferries are designed similarly and have the classic things most cruises have: cafeteria, a cafe, a bar/pub, a big sitting area, the outdoor areas, etc. And I’ve been on loads of ferries in my life, but this one might actually have one of the better foods I’ve had on board. Maybe I was just hungry, but I was pleasantly surprised by the non-microwaved quality of it. Kudos to you, Irish Ferries, on your realistic representation of a steak and ale pie.

Now, the next part of the story involves revealing something about my tendencies toward travel: planning is often optional. But more importantly, the use of “no plan” as part of the experience always–always!–ends up with some sort of experience worth telling. It ensures an anecdote. And here’s the one I built in for this little weekend getaway…

From the ferry terminal, we took a quick taxi to the airport to pick up a rental car. We wanted to get out of Dublin and see the countryside, and what better way to do that than to drive it. We would pick up a car and drive for a couple hours until we found a neat little town, and then find a quaint little bed-and-breakfast to settle down for the night. Of course, Ireland is famous for the astonishing number of these little bed-and-breakfasts all over the country, and why would it be any problem to find one with a vacancy?

I say, One Direction stole our beds. Or rather, their hoard stole our beds. How could we have known they were in town for a multi-day concert series and pretty much every bed in a 50 mile radius of the concert was taken! By the time we started looking, we were almost an hour outside Dublin. It took every bit of the next two hours to find a bed-and-breakfast with a vacancy by stopping at every place that looked occupied. Proof, again, that there are lovely people everywhere in the world… even at random, tiny pubs in the narrow roads of County Meath. Or perhaps I should say especially at random, tiny pubs in the narrow roads of County Meath: explaining our situation, the proprietor and few patrons at the bar started pitching in ideas and making calls. A few minutes later, we had lodging at the Isaac’s Well in Clonmellon in County Westmeath.

The landlady had just had surgery and could not provide us with the “breakfast” part of the bed-and-breakfast, but the accommodations were actually spectacular. Everything seemed fresh and new and the huge room and bathroom actually sparked the conversation: “What if we just stay here all weekend?”

And for €35, definitely not bad.

Oh, and about the money: The next morning was Sunday. We started looking for someone to check out, leave the key and pay for the room. There was no proper desk, of course, and the barman had just tossed us a key the previous night… and the bar was closed. Honor system it is, then! We left the money and the key on the table in the room and departed…

Oh, and one last thing before leaving this area of Ireland: if you’re ever near Kells, pop into the Keltic Bar by the Headford Arms Hotel (also full of One Directioners, btw). The kitchen had been closed a few minutes by the time we arrived, but the staff sat us down by the fire and went to get the cook who had just left. I’m not sure I’ve had this happen to me anywhere else in the world.

So… driving the countryside of Ireland now, we loaded up on road trip snacks and headed west. The internets say that Ireland is approximately the same size as the state of Indiana, so it takes just a couple of hours to drive all the way across it. Especially considering they’ve got a serious highway system that makes travel across the country pretty straightforward and fast. We made it all the way across the country to Galway long before lunch. To the north to the wilds of Connemara or to the south to Doolin and Dingle and the Cliffs of Moher and all those places people tend to find themselves while backpacking Europe.

To the north, it is!

We worked our way northwest. This area is just really brilliant. Really beautiful and craggy landscape. The grass and trees seem lightly laid on top of some ancient world, like the moss that sits just on top of rocks. The whole world could be peeled away.

You’ll notice, Lynn is making most of these photos. I was driving. It isn’t a forgiving road.

Having just come back from an assignment in the Republic of Georgia, I took an interest in the sheep. The sheep are completely different here than the ones in Georgia. (But that story is for another time.)

Traveling like this is a bit of a risk at times. For the person with their face in a guidebook, they probably won’t ever miss all the big stuff that we might have driven right past. But we still do okay, I think. Anything missed, we just have to come back and hit next time… but we don’t miss much.

Like the relatively insane Kylemore Abbey, for instance. If you’re randomly traveling through this sort of terrain and this thing pops up in the distance, you kinda go see what’s up. Turns out, it was one of the most elaborate and lavish estates in the British Isles. Even Kings have looked to it as a getaway home, but one famously decided against it citing the fact that even a king couldn’t afford such grandeur.

The story of the palace is legendary in the area and I dare not spoil it for you here. Best to visit and savor it all for yourself.

Now well into the afternoon, we must continue on.

Driving down the coast of Connemara, the landscape changed again. The huge hills (or “bens”) continued, but the coastline changed everything. Thatch-roof, stone cottages and a narrow road winding amongst ancient rock walls that end in the sea… I love unconventional landscapes and this was certainly one of them.

Returning to Dublin was quick. As much of a shame as it was to leave the brilliant countryside, we needed to get the car back to the airport.

Which brings up another topic: car rentals.

I though it would be nice to give the local company a shot instead of going with the huge giants like Hertz or Avis or Sixt. Well… I’m not sure I’ll be doing that again anytime soon. Found online on a typical travel site, it was the cheapest. But to get the same level of car, insurance, and GPS unit, we got our clock cleaned. I mean, properly reamed.

The dorky little car was a champ and actually moderately fun to drive on these crazy narrow roads, but the rental company (which I have intentionally neglected to mention) left a lot to be desired. Especially in the “hidden fee” category.

Looking back at it now, I probably should have known better, but what’s done is done. And why didn’t I just say “forget it” at the check-in desk instead of going through with it? Because unless you cancel within 24hrs of the booking, you gotta pay for the first day. Yep, ya got me, friend. Shame on me.

Not really the feeling you want to go away with, is it…?

Anyways, all that aside, the rest of the trip (post-credit card melt-down) was just fine. Dublin is a neat little town. It is manageable and can be walked across in a really short amount of time. Most of the sites can be seen in a single day.

What is worth visiting? I’d say the Jameson Distillery or the Guinness Storehouse should be on the top of your list. Even if you aren’t interested in the libations, these–along with similar places like the Jack Daniels Distillery in Lynchburg, TN–are single-theme museums that do one thing really well: tell you how a very specific product is created from start to finish. Where some museums spread themselves too thin, these types of educational tours break down a process and show you how something is done. And they do it around all the original equipment. There’s a fair amount of propaganda, but what do you expect: that said, the tour staff are cute and funny about that fact, interacting with their groups and keep it from being boring. And, of course, there are taste-testing moments throughout… which means you’re actually getting a little more for your money than the average walk-through museum.

See also? The Kilmainham Gaol (pronounced “jail”) and the Zoo are usually biggies on the tourist map. The Dublin Castle might be worth poking your head into, but it costs a bit and I’m not sure everybody gets their kicks in such places (loads of local history… and… not much else). Other things to stop by might be Trinity College or the National Museums and the famous churches (like St.Patrick’s).

Public transportation is really easy to figure out and it covers most of the town, but I don’t think we used it much: it is so easy to walk around.

One thing that I did when I visited previously: I took the hop-on-hop-off bus tour and saw pretty much everything worth seeing in the town in a single afternoon. It was so simple and I remember it being shockingly cheap back in 2008. When I looked at the prices this time, I was a little disappointed that it had jumped so high (in the €20 per person range). Such is the way of things…

Undeniably, the pub culture is alive and well. Pay attention to which tourist map you pick up because there is actually one that is the Nightlife Edition, marking every pub, nightclub, and bar in central Dublin. It doesn’t do much for you if that’s not your thing, but…

We stayed at the Fleet Street Hotel right there at the Temple Bar. Pretty solid hotel and there was no beating the location. Here’s the trick, though: the original purpose of staying outside of Dublin the first night was driven by the fact that I noticed that Friday night or Saturday night hotel bookings in the city were astronomical. Serious sticker shock. It turned out this was entirely driven by One Direction masses. And the hotels made bank.

“It couldn’t have been that much of a difference…” you say? Oh…

Here’s an example: I (unscientifically) found the average Friday and Saturday night bookings in a central Dublin hotel costing around €200-€250 per night. On Sunday night, the exact same hotel dropped to €80. By Monday: €65. For one night, it would have cost us more than what we spent for our whole two night stay (since we stayed Sunday night through Tuesday morning).

I mean, I don’t blame them. If screaming fans are going to pay ridiculous prices to see this year’s fad pop band, they’re also going to fork out the cash for the hotel in which to swoon in post-ecstatic fervor. But, we’re also not going to pay that. Pay attention, travelers, to who or what is going on in town.

The return trip was a bit exhausting, by the way. I’m sure they have their reasons, but our only option on the return (at this price category) was to be up all night. The travel consisted of the ferry trip across the Irish Sea to Holyhead, a lengthy wee-hour vigil in the Holyhead train station, and then the last little jaunt back into London. We arrived at Euston during the eight o’clock hour, just in time for a little nap and Lynn getting to work at noon.

No biggie. As intense as sitting up in a train station from 2am-4:45am might sound, it really is about par for the course when traveling… pretty much anywhere. Yes, it is fully possible to treat travel just like a trip to Disney World complete with normal waking hours and almost luxurious accommodations. Traveling like that requires, believe it or not, vast amounts of money. The rail, airlines, and hotels know this. Just like they know people will fork our thousands of $/€/£ for a weekend at a concert, the prices reflect this. On the other hand, there are times and routes that don’t require a huge pocketbook because, at the same time that the travel companies jack up the prices when it is obvious they corner the market, the same companies will have wildly lower-cost travel options, too. Which means it is fully possible to travel on a budget, you just have to realize that there are sacrifices to be made in the name of comfort.

Basically that’s all it is: comfort. You’ll still get there, but you might have to stand part of the way. You’ll still get there, but you might have to stay up late at night. You’ll still get there, but you’ll have to take just a little bit longer to get there. And, you’ll also have somewhere to stay, whether you have to make your own bed up and bathe in a community shower, that’s part of the trade-off for cheapness.

If I make a concession, I usually err on the side of a little more money for accommodations. Travel from place to place doesn’t need to be that comfortable and I can stay up late. But I kinda like my own space, moderate privacy, and know that my stuff isn’t going to be stolen when I leave it in the room to see the sights.

So there… Dublin.