Duncannon Travel Blog› entry 3 of 3 › view all entries
We felt the panic of the last day, the pressure to squeeze a great time into the few remaining hours. Bill joined us in the rental car and we high-tailed it to a cave in Kilkenny. The cave was the small, but the guide was talkative; he regaled us with stories of his youth, his connections, his irony, told us the history of the caves (Vikings had slaughtered a bunch of women, children, and two babies who had hid in the cave by suffocating them with fire). Afterward he played us an old Irish lament on a little silver pipe, and suddenly the entire trip was worth it.
Our lunchtime waiter schooled us on the indigenous mustard varieties: Irish mustard is spicy, Canadian tasteless and American mild. As we left the boys started to normal noontime beating of each other. "No wrestling in the restaurant!" I hollered. Waiter: "We're a pub! Not a restaurant!" I fled with the kids and left the men with the bill.
We tried to visit an old-time fort, but it closed by the time we got to the coast. We trailed to the beach instead, and got treated to a lovely sunset, the second prettiest I've ever seen, only behind the purple smoke clouds in Arizona. It was the perfect ending to a bittersweet stay.