Posted by Butch on January 18, 2001 at 19:27:05:
If you ask an American how far it is from let's say, San Francisco to Monterey a distance of some one hundred and fifty miles he'll say about an hour and a half. Now if you ask an Irishman how far is it from let's say , Castlegar to Louisbourg he'll say about thirty miles!. I was about twelve again which seems to be the norm for my life and the dentist had diagnosed that I wear braces for three years ! in order to correct protruding teeth . It seemed that I spent much of my childhood sitting in the dentists chair of Mr J. Bourke on Spencer St. staring out taro the window at his extensive garden while ear splitting drills burrowed into my teeth. I can remember one Saturday afternoon a ‘marathon' session that lasted over three hours ,the mold was cast finally, from teeth sunk into plaster of paris ,those little paper cups ,rinse please, shiny white porcelain bowl water swirling around and if it wasn't for that garden and especially his attractive assistant (she was a cashier at the cinema!) I was finally fitted by Mr Bourke and a specialist from Dublin whom I was to see every three months for the next three years. The braces were very uncomfortable especially when eating and as the years went on I was inclined to remove them occasionally to relieve the discomfort . Once the old man noticed I wasn't wearing them and flew into a tirade about the cost of seeing this specialist every three months, from Dublin.I renewed my efforts to grin and bear it. .The specialist was required to make adjustments per my progress. Screws were inserted into the braces and tightened slowly to make up the slack, while I might listen to weather conditions at the french riviera that year and how are things in Monte Carlo. So life went on, the wars were over now, and the populis were enjoying the prosperity of peacetime. Uncle Ted and his family liked to visit Ireland for their summer holidays. Ted was the husband of my mother's sister Peg,and their offspring were Jack, Maureen ,Kevin, and Paul, ergo First cousins. They hailed from Gillingham in Kent.Ted was British to the core, a product of the British Royal Air Force. A pipe firmly gripped between his teeth, and a perpetual grin that seemed to say "Damm the Defiant" we ‘ve got Jerry on the run, March on Lads for King and country.Nothing upset him . His son Paul was a screamer (yes Paul you were) and would scream at the drop of a hat , this was premeditated screaming picking up the phone when it rang and screaming into the mouthpiece as my Dad's nerves were about to split Ted would calmly respond "Bless his Little Heart". Auntie Peg liked to drink tea ,and "I'll Put the Kettle on for a cup of Tea" was a given when she was in the house young or old you were all invited so I had many cups of tea with my Auntie Peg. It was a highlight of any summer I had, the anticipated arrival of my cousins from England. They would bring their big green British car with them ,and life was accelerated ,rules were relaxed ,biscuits with tea ,more half a crowns and shillings coming my way . If the weather was good a trip would be organized to the seaside. After Sunday mass, a meteorological meeting would be held, prophets and soothsayers were consulted . Preparations were made hastily for it's Ireland! "Make Hay while the Sun Shines" and the women made the sandwiches thermos's full of tea, cakes and goodies ,I guess the men did useful things like check the battery's and top them off with distilled water , check tire pressure , petrol ,into town to fill up before Josie's Bourkes closed for the rest of the Sunday Afternoon and that would be a long time for Irish Sunday Afternoons are the longest in the world yep.Now the previous summer Uncle Ted had brought over from England a tire from the wheel of a B-52 bomber this was stowed away in "The Boot" along with ‘ the rug' towels and togs buckets and shovels . The house locked up, in two cars, the convoy set off for "Old Head" Jumping up and down on the seats making noise because that was our job and who would yell out first " I can see the sea" from the top of a hill on the roller coaster that is the Westport road mandatory stop for ice cream in that shop by the octagon by the cinema by the sea soon, Down Down the hill around . Pull back on the column out by the quays, boats bobing,The smell of the ocean life giving ,reviving breath,air ,tangy, salty. Is the tide in or out? ,in between in or out?, coming in?,going out? Throttle back the engines, passengers are asked to fasten their seat belts for the next five miles as the road from here on out consists of a dizzying series of hairpin turns one after the other
Quiet is the order now as the drivers concentrate on navigating the curves in the road. Land on the left, Clew Bay on the right ,and Patrick looming straight ahead. The overhead light clicks off as we exit the snake. Although the journey ahead is not exactly a linear luxury , it is unsurpassed for it's scenic beauty , leaving "The Mountain", gateway to the heavens passing taro the small town of Licanvey with it's colorful stalls and pretty girls selling flowers and cakes of "Blanc Mange" made from dilisk and carrageen . The road rises to oversee the blue green water and cragged coastline still stretching further away breaking back inland before losing itself from the Bay to the mighty Atlantic. "Suil Padraig" staring benignly inward has left the landscape unprotected from the elements ,here the wind blows constantly, tough blades of grass dig deep into the soil and moss covered rocks lay guard to the gorse and heather that favor the barren terrain. A sign post points the way , and the excitement builds as we head down into Old Head, parking the cars on the grassy knoll , we tumble out running everywhere . We're in luck the tide is in!. The pier now juts out into the sea making it a hundred foot diving platform , sloping from 30ft, to 4ft, two sets of steps led to down to the water naturally being steps they also led up to the pier from the water! Yep. The total length of the pier is about so many yards encompassed on the left side with a four foot high wall that ran the full length of the pier that curved slightly to the right and curved downward to the main body of the pier leaving ten or so feet of the pier open to the sea The wall was four wide at the top , wide enough to walk if you dared and we did !and it was here, that an
Englishman aided by his family the previous summer gouged out with a stone chisel and smoothed with mortar ,four steps into the face of the wall . This enabled him to now climb upon the top of the wall with ease and dive into the water at full tide . However our representive from John Bull's country was so eager to dive, was not always willing to wait for the tide to come in,and so aided by his son used a type of measure to gauge the depth of the water . My Dad had rented out the little cottage with the corrougated roof that stood just by the end of the pier road , and my Brother and I would watch every day for the diving party to arrive from the "Old Head Hotel"
where "The Britons" were staying. Measurements were taken and " your man" duly climbed up and onto the wall, and disappeared into the water , we waited for his shiny bald head to appear on the surface as usual ,but no show .Watched by his wife and two sons from above ,along with meself and the bro, we waited , now anxiously,no sign , the elder son already toged out dived into the water without a sound and came back an eternity later with his father in his arms blood dripping from a gash in his forehead where he had hit himself on a rock below .Stunned but alive!. They took him to the doctor in Louisbourg and we found out later recovered fully. The vacation in the west of Ireland was brought to an end however. They packed up their bags at the "Old Head Hotel"
And headed back across the briny. The "Sasanach whose head was harder then the "Rock of Gibralter " he hit, left behind a small message , etched in stone!. It was a memorable holiday that year. When the Connemara lobster fisherman in their sleek black skinned currachs migrated up the coast to seek richer waters and landed in our cove.Big brown men with curly black hair and shiny ,smiling teeth. Gentle giants who couldn't speak any english and relied on my father to translate for them ,they camped out in the old ruins ,that stood back from the beach a ways.There were many pleasant night spent around their campfire and they were invited to our place for dinner likewise hmmm lobster. During the day we explored the headland of old head climbing up the little steps into the woods but going right on the small path that took you out of the woods unto the cliff overlooking the ocean where the path continued all along the cliff but about 20 feet in from the edge and very carefully we would lay down and watch the waves beat on the rocks below, and surge into the caves carved out by the ceaseless pounding of the sea over the millennia. Hunger chasing us we ran back to the beach where the adults had stalked out a spot under the lee of the wall rug spread out .tea ,lemonade .cold chicken sandwiches " Bulmers Cidona"!! The pier had been filling up by now, .the Doherty's from Westport ,who owned the house underneath Bourke's on the far side of the beach, Flannery's from Castlegar , Durcan's. O Malley's, The Murrisk's from Murrisk head !, Murphy's and Mcgreals,and many more. We couldn't swim for an hour so we jumped off the grassy knoll, by running as fast as knievel you would launch yourself into the air and land feet first into the soft sand the challenge being to land the furthest if you dared jump the highest . Lines being drawn in the sand ,we headed for the water for invigorating re-vival diving jumping "look at me!".I was stung by a jelly fish once and have a fear of those slimy ,tentacled,saucers that could ruin a days swimming when they invaded the harbour . Back for some final jumps before we went home .all in all a great day at the sea side. Daylight was still with us as we pulled up to the driveway of Marianno Newport Rd. My Dad drove down to the boireen to turn around in order to Let Uncle Ted pull in first so he wouldn't be blocked off in the morning and it was then I realized that I was not wearing my braces and I frantically searched my khacki pockets and the seat behind to no avail ,I blurted out to him that I did not have my braces, heart in mouth waited for the outburst but none came except a sigh of resignation "wait there" he said and got out of the the car got Uncle Ted and to- gether they formed a posse . We packed into the Big British touring car and with the women and small children waving behind , We headed back to "Old Head". In hindsight the British officer in the Royal Air Force and the Irish Captain of the F. C. A . Had found a common ground . Pulling back into old head, meeting the cars that were calling it a day daylight still was with us, those northern latitudes . Uncle Ted keeping a cool head in the face of adversity ("Bless His Heart") and with the same imperturbable British discipline and vision that " Brought Bligh Back to Blighty", mapped out a grid on the "Jumping Grounds .Where it was assumed I had lost my orthodonics .Allotting each member of the search team an area to cover,and with a call for combs as there were some locals who had by now gathered to watch the fiasco.. We spread the sand inch by inch .Uncle Ted calling off instructions as we went making sure that everyone covered his ground , moving tentatively with sticks combs and hands as if mines had been laid by an alien force of jelly fish. With excruciating slowness we covered the final squares of the grid realizing we were losing the battle against a trillion grains of sand ,the light was begining to wane & the sun was sinking below Louisburg,as one of the locals just outside the grid reached down and picked up my braces out of the sand .