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At five o' clock we clambered back onto the
bus for the journey back to Ferns with Bridget again
acting as our guide. It wasn't too long before we were in
giggles as the Three Stooges kicked off their evening road
show at the front of the bus. Bridget did manage to bring
some gravitas to the affair however by introducing a crash
course in the Gaelic language. As we drove back through
the Blackstairs Mountains the hedgerows began to draw
closer and closer, the bends grew more and more acute and
the gradient grew steeper and steeper. It was great fun
for us but I imagine that John Murphy the poor driver,
struggling to manoeuvre a 50-seat coach over such terrain
must have been a nervous wreck despite his outward
appearance of calm. At one stage we had to yield to a
flock of sheep that steadily advanced towards us, but just
as we anticipated a sea of white fluff enveloping the
coach they swung right into a field.
A short stop near the summit of Mount
Leinster, the highest mountain in the region proved the
perfect vantage point from which to take in the
countryside. It was a memorable sight, with unobstructed
views for miles in nearly every direction. As our intrepid
band of travellers absorbed the landscape many of us felt
deeply moved by the experience. It was both humbling and
inspiring to know that from horizon to horizon, every
field, hill and valley, river and wood that we could see
once belonged to our Clann. It was difficult to imagine
how it might have looked at the height of our power, for
today only small clusters of trees dot the land where once
dark luxurious woods gave protection to our ancestors.
What a glorious sight they must have been, but alas the
English cleared the woods and then used the timber for
shipbuilding and the production of charcoal. Returning to
the bus we embarked on the last leg of the trip, arriving
in Ferns around 6.30. There was just enough time for a
wipe with a damp facecloth and a change of clothes before
the evening entertainment began at 7.30. I took great
pleasure in removing my shoes, which had been slowly and
painfully performing surgery on my heels all day. Is there
anything a man will not put himself through for fashion?
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The view from Mt. Leinster
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