Glendalough, Ireland

Eugene and Dee have two boys, Max and Oscar, so although we were in an insulated part of the house, undisturbed by noise, the life of the house starts early, and we managed to join in before too much of the morning had disappeared. After breakfast we followed Eugene and Max to Glendalough, the next national park on my tour. Travelling with a two year old is quite different to any other method, so we had plenty of time to examine rocks, grass and birdies. Plenty of birdies.

Max had started the day seeming unimpressed with me, but for some reason I was his preferred vehicle whenever he was bored of walking-normally, very sensibly, when he could see a path disappearing into the distance. I wasn’t about to question it, making the most of being flavour of the moment. Nothing cuter than a little person chattering about what they can see whilst riding on shoulders or in your arms, though Max is pretty big for his age, so I had to shift position from time to time, or be grateful when Eugene found an exciting reason to walk for a bit. The lakes are fabulous, needless to say, and the bridges particularly interesting to Max. And it’s just a privilege to slip into another family’s routine. Max was even up for a hug goodbye, so my earlier unimpressive appearance had obviously slipped by then.

After we left we headed further into the hills where the landscape, in Eugene’s words, “gets lunar”. Pretty impressive, though the traffic further on was less so, as Blessington’s annual tractor run filled the road and diversions made the road to Enniscorthy hard to get to. Eventually, grumpiness at an empty stomach made me turn round, eventually cheered up by cake from a shop and much cheered, as the rain poured, by checking in to the Glendalough hostel with a book.