Today is what the Irish call a “fine, soft day”. In May of 1998, we took our mountain bikes to Ireland, flying into Shannon, then two buses, first to Limerick and then to Tralee. We had no reservations, which seems incredibly brave and stupid now, though it all worked out. Coming into Dingle from over Connor Pass, the highest pass in Ireland they said, getting smiles and thumbs up from passing motorists. Looking back at the photos, there’s hardly any blue sky. We’d bought full rain gear for the trip, and never had to use it. Never got too hot or too cold on those fine soft days.
Hard to believe that was twenty-two years ago. Had a trip back to the Southwest planned with a friend last September. The Irish government wasn’t allowing visitors from the US, our pandemic response being what it was. Maybe we’ll get there this September, though I’m not counting on it. Still best to take things one day at a time, right?