Screaming eels & faerie ponies.

I am not afraid of much.  Spiders…love them.  Dark, creaky forests…sounds peaceful.  Sharks…the closer I can get, the better.

However.  There are two things (and only two) in this world that scare the bejeezus out of me.  Ghosts…and…water snakes.  Why do I bore you with my fears?  Because I will be facing them both…in 22 days.  (Also, I apologize for the excessive use of the period.  I write how I talk.)

It is time to tell you about THE TRIP.  It is the stuff dreams are made of.

So, yes.  We are going to Ireland.  From November 19-27, we will be driving our little matchbox rental all over the magical isle.  Homebased in County Clare, our little cottage shall provide us warmth from the wood fireplace after long, rainy days traversing the limestone Burren, cozy couches to curl upon after guiding a pony and trap across the Aran Islands, a kitchen and full dining room from which we can host a Thanksgiving meal for our newly found Irish mates, and two bedrooms to dream away in after gaping in awe at the Cliffs of Moher.  The story goes that a group of faerie ponies threw themselves over the cliffs in the times of yore.  Ponies?  Faeries?  One of nature’s greatest creations?  Count us in.  We are pretty much smack dab right in the middle of the country, making it easy to take a trip up to Dublin if we so choose, go south to the Dingle Peninsula and have a Guinness with Bono, and have morning walks along quiet one lane roads in the middle of the country side.  Oh, and County Clare is known as the home of traditional Irish music.  Spontaneous jam sessions break out in the pubs regularly.  Bring your fiddle, Meggie.  Pubs…keeping Megan and Kalena entertained since 2002.

After this most amazing of weeks, we are returning the midget car to Dublin and hopping on a RyanAir flight (Hello!  8 Euros to fly?!  Yes please!) to Manchester.  Upon arrival, we will make our way to Anderton Marina where we will pick up our next mode of transportation/lodging (November 27-3).  A canal boat.  Narrowboat.  Small canals were carved into the English countryside in the medieval times to transport goods into the villages.  Over time, these fell out of use as industry and technology surpassed the slow moving barges that traversed these waterways.  They have been resurrected and now are home to one of England’s most popular holiday pastimes.  Boat rentals on the canal consist of one VERY long (60 foot), VERY skinny (7 foot) floating barrel of fun.    

The boat is steel hulled and tops out at about 4 mph.  Good thing since they basically just hand it over and set you loose.  Yes, you read that right.  We are responsible for driving this thing.  And drive it we shall.  Captain Megan and First Mate Kalena will explore England from a totally new angle, cruising quietly through beautiful countryside and villages, and mooring up wherever our mood suits us (and for our daily cocktail hour). 

We will maneuver ourselves through archaic locks, frighteningly high aquaducts, and pitch black mile long tunnels.  One such tunnel is reportedly haunted.  By a headless woman.  Who screams.  Not. My. Cup. Of. Tea.  Megan will probably have to tie me to the tiller just so I don’t abandon her and hide in the tiny boat bathroom.

This is a good time to mention the eels.  No, not the band (however, listen to this for pleasure to your ears).  Real eels.  The canals are stocked with them.  Some Englishman thought they might be a yummy dish, and unfortunately, have turned into delicacy when jellied.  Jellied Eels.  ICK. 

Last week, I had a dream that an eel actually jumped out of the water and landed in the boat.  Last night, Megan and I made a pact that we would not dance on top of the boat (yes, this would happen) for fear that we fall overboard and be subject to the eels.  Megan seems to think that if we tie ourselves to something, we’ll be ok because we can just drag ourselves back to the boat and back on board.  I am going to spend the whole week tied to a chair.

These eels thrive in dark, muddy crevices.  Now, remember the pitch black, mile long, haunted tunnel?  Yeah.   Eels and ghosts. 

I’d rather not be eel food.  Thanks.