Saturday, 10 October 2015

Guinness Storehouse and Laytown Races.

DUBLIN FOR THE DAY!

I admit I don't get enough sleep, and I know Husb and I are Masters of the Tight Schedule, but to be at Liverpool Airport by 4.30am ON A SCHOOL DAY!!! We obviously thought we were still teenagers.
I had a rare Thursday night off  (due to the sportshall floor being resealed) and was expecting maybe a nice meal out or a trip to the theatre but unbeknown to me, THAT particular Thursday was the ONLY DAY in the WHOLE YEAR that there was racing on the beach at Laytown and if we caught the 6.30am flight to Dublin ...it was possible ..
Husb's face lit up...

"Let's go to Dublin for the day"

SO...
Square One cancelled.
Flights booked.
Alarm clock set!
Game on!

We were in Dublin by 8.15am and headed along the river to the




There were 7 floors of Guinness to explore, starting at the bottom of the largest beer glass in the world...


but naturally I started the tour with a plank, 
I thought I had better do one BEFORE the pint rather than after.


We gave it 5 stars on TripAdvisor because we thought it was excellent. A worthy winner of Europe's leading Tourist Attraction. And we had no problems queueing for anything although that could be a problem. But then, we WERE up at 4am to fly at 6.30am so we were waiting for the doors to open.


Hops only grow in two regions of the world.
It is a fussy little plant and very particular about the amount of sunshine it requires.



The yeast for Guinness is only grown at St James's Gate and is so valuable a reserve supply is kept locked in a safe. Since the nineteenth century some yeast from each brew has been transferred on to the next to ensure consistency.


The water looked fabulous.


The barrel making was jaw-droppingly impressive...what a skill.


We love the toucans.









To be fair, they've made some good adverts.










:) :) :)

We were shown how to pour a perfect pint.


(This is me topping mine up after it had settled.)



It tasted delicious.





BUT WE HAD COME FOR THE RACING!

Suitably refreshed, we hopped on the Dart and soon arrived in Laytown. With an hour to spare before the racing started we had no choice but to join the locals in another pint. My iron stores were being replenished by the minute!



As we walked long the front, this statue caught my eye. What superb posture she has.




Quick Facts About Laytown

Laytown races occupies a unique position in the Irish racing calendar as it is the only race event run on a beach under the Rules of Racing.

Many generations of people from the Meath area and the bordering countries have fond memories of their visit to the strand at Laytown and of the colour and the excitement of race day.

Laytown strand races have been in existence for one hundred and forty years.  The first recorded meeting was in 1868 when races were run on the beach in conjunction with the Boyne Regatta.  It is assumed that the rowing competition took place on the high tide and the racing when the tide receded.  Initially the races were a side show to the regatta and were only organised when the combination of high and low tides allowed the racing on the beach at the conclusion of the rowing events.  Charles Stuart Parnell, the great Home Rule leader, was one of the first stewards of the strand races.  In 1901 the local Parish Priest became involved in the organisation and despite the disapproval of the Bishop of Meath the races became a well organised event.  In those days strand races were quiet common being run in places throughout Ireland such as Milltown Malbay in Co Clare and nearer home at Baltray and Termonfeckin.  The racing continued throughout the years and in the nineteen fifties and sixties Laytown was considered an important meeting for horses preparing for the great Galway Festival.  In those days there were no all weather surfaces for training horses and the sands at Laytown were considered ideal preparation for the Galway track.
Laytown Races1

The Laytown meeting was an important cultural event in the Meath calendar.  Racing was run at distances between five furlongs and two miles with a U-shaped turn at Bettystown where the horses made a colourful sweeping return before heading back to the Laytown finish.  The whole beach area was a profusion of colour with racegoers, bookies, fast food outlets, ice cream vendors, hurdy gurdies, roulette tables all sharing the strand.  In the midst of all of these the tree and card-trick merchants appeared, disappeared and reappeared, constantly on the look-out for the gardai.

An unfortunate accident in 1994 served as a timely reminder of the necessity of new safety measures.  The U-shaped track was done away with and the Turf Club imposed restrictions on the number of runners in each race and also insisted that only experienced riders were allowed.  From that date vehicles were prohibited from the beach as were all betting facilities.
Laytown Horses
 The organisation of Laytown Strand Races is a huge undertaking.  The committee has a lease of a three acre field in Laytown known locally for generations as “the race field”.  It is a wonderful elevated site above the beach and beside the finish line and racegoers have a fine view of the races from this natural vantage point.  Laytown as a racetrack doesn’t exist.  The only permanent building on the course is the Gents!  For several weeks before racing the beach is continually checked by senior members of the committee to determine the most suitable “bank” for racing on the day and as all beaches are dynamic and constantly changing this requires a skilled eye, achieved over many years experience.  On the run up to the day the race field is transformed from a green site to a racing enclosure, with parade ring, bookies pitches, judge’s box and temporary grand-strand erected.  Marquees spring up to house the bar, restaurants, weigh rooms ambulance room and secretary’s office. 





Wotahoot.

So we mozied around the bookies and parade ring and then felt very pleased with our great viewing spot on the fence. Oh how naive we were. With 2 minutes to race time we were engulfed by a swarm of people and at the off we couldn't see a blummin thing.I didn't actually see a horse.

We were about to make a Plan B when a young family WITH BUGGY (!!) :) stood next to us creating the perfect barrier keeping the mob at bay (YESS!)  so we SAW the second race AND picked the winner. 


But we wanted to get on that sand.


Why was there no one else on this rail?
It was perfect.



Until we realised how close the horses ran to the puny piece of plastic pole.


We didn't stay there long. 
We FELT the horses before we saw them. 
And when the mass of horses thundered towards us it became quite obvious why no one else was stood over that side with us. Scary.
 (Exiting!!)






It was a fantastic experience and we'd go again, (although Husb muttered "Fairyhouse next?") and Dublin is DEFINITELY doable in a day. You just have to pretend you are still a teenager because you don't get any sleep. 
We flew back at 10.30pm and were back home about midnight.

And all because the sportshall floor was being resealed :)



Saturday, 3 October 2015

Ravenglass Railway, Wastwater, Hardknott Pass.

Whoever would have thought the Lake District could be so hilarious? First "The Wedding" and then our schneaky two day Bank Holiday trip up there.


Not many places let out their hotel rooms for one night only, especially over a Bank Holiday, so when Husb found a pub with a one night vacancy we just went for it. It didn't matter where it was...but how fabulous that it happened to be in the Western Lakes on the coast. ON THE COAST!

On our way to the pub in Santon Bridge we stopped at Ravenglass to experience the La'al Ratty Railway which was celebrating its 100 year anniversary that very weekend.





So we hopped on a train. How exciting. We were like big kids. The journey went for 7 miles from Ravenglass, the only coastal town in the Lakes, to Boot Station, Dalegarth.



Naturally we gave all the trains names, like Henry and James and Percy and Gordon and Thomas...


and it was great - we twisted and turned and and climbed and dipped and the driver tooted and we all  hooted and the hairy man in front of us kept leaning out to take photos, scuppering our chances of a getting a good shot.  This isn't a bad one of the steam though.


When we arrived at Boot, James had a quick swizzle round on the turntable and was ready for the return trip.







"Right then, let's go and find the waterfall" we said. Hmmm. Easier said than done. Wotahoot! How hard is it to find a waterfall?? We even lead others the wrong way because we looked like we knew where we were going.


Besides, I got waylaid by some perfect looking stepping stones, in the river Esk that were ideal for planking on.


Until I tried to stand up again. I nearly fell in. :/




Dalegarth

Ah a signpost to the falls. That's more like it.


Wow, it was like our own little rainforest right here in the lake District.



What was so amazing was the silence. Not a single bird tweet/coo/song. It was sooooo quiet.


We likened it to the rainforests of Dominica. Leaves were dripping with moisture, everywhere was lush and shiny green, there was so much moss we had to be careful not to go flying on those rocks, it was absolutely beautiful. And so quiet. 

Then we saw it.


It just sort of ... appeared.
The tumbling water hardly made a sound either, it trickled down the rocks into the pool below.


When we got back to Boot Station  Percy was having a turn on the table.




But we weren't ready to return yet.We needed to explore the little village of Boot   so we set off along the road in the direction of a couple of pubs. Dear Godfrey we could SMELL one pub before we could see it. We had to give the Boot Inn a wide berth as it stank so heavily of garlic. "Award winning food" indeed. I don't think so.
 But the 
was a great decision - tea, real ale and near to one of the few remaining two wheel water corn mills.

It would have been easy to just tuck in to a barsnack when we got back to The Bridge but it was such a lovely evening the fish and chips had to wait an hour or so, while we went for an evening drive along the side of  Wastwater which is the deepest of the lakes.




This was approaching Wastwater. It is 3 miles long, half a mile wide and the deepest of all the Lakes at 260 feet deep.







When we got out of the car the other end we saw a sign that said  "The route to Scafell Pike". Ooooeeerrr England's highest hill. But no Ali, this wasn't it.



It was behind there somewhere though.



Wastwater from the other side.


                                     

with protective Moo and calf. She gave us evils.






The fish and chips were calling though. so it was back to the Bridge...





...for fish and chips...


and HOBGOBLIN GOLD!!! CUB, LOOK!



DAY 2


"What's that coming over the hill, is it a monster, is it a monster ..." 

Take another look at that hill.





That... is the FIRST GEAR ONLY , SINGLE PATH  road called the HARDKNOTT PASS. one of the steepest roads in England with a gradient of 1:3. Eek.
I still can't decide if it was terrifying, hilarious, heart attacking, exciting, stressful, exhilating, FUN or all of those combined. but I DO know that  hairpinbending on a camber with the revs going bonkers was definitely NOT the right time to tell Husb 
"My Dad used to say "Always drive OUT of a bend""
 Dear Geoffrey, we nearly shot over the edge.
 It's never good to make a driver jump when their foot is on the accelerator and Mountain Goat minibuses are hurtling towards you like they own the road. 



We did, however need a half way up breather to get the heart rate back to normal so we stopped at the Hardknott Roman Fort where we did handstands and impressions of Julie Andrews.





THIS was pure genius by the photographer, snapping me in the 0.2 of a second that I was in this position, blimey he has made me look like an Olympic gymnast.
I've even impressed myself. Looking like a pro at my age,







Wouldn't this Pulpit Rock have been soooo perfect for a plank!... but I just didn't dare. Certainly not after nearly falling in the Esk off those stepping stones, I'd never have got up again off this.







Yes, that's the Cactus parked down there.



I know it looks dry but it wasn't. Between us, we had managed to find the boggiest bog and now had soaking wet feet.




I've not got a plank from Hardknott Pass in my album so it had to be done, wet feet or not.




And then it was back down the other side.





After doing battle with the cows....



And on to Cartmel Races, with Sticky Toffee Pudding, yet more fish'n'chips, and a late drive home down the Motorway. It was a brilliant 2 days.