“He who travels has stories to tell.” – an old Irish Proverb

On the Road Again … Ireland!

IRELAND – “The Land of Saints and Scholars.” It’s the start of our Gate 1 Travel’s “11-Day Irish Culture” tour through the Emerald Island. Dinner at our hotel gave us the chance to meet and greet our tour manager and our ten, fellow vacationers.

It’s a diversified group of seasoned travelers: Valerie and Joe from Albuquerque, Sal and Alicia from Maryland, Craig and Susan from Southern California, and hailing from the Mount Rushmore State (South Dakota), the sister duo of Monica and Liz, along with their respective husbands, Floyd and Chris.

There’s always a little anticipation walking into a roomful of unfamiliar faces, but the atmosphere quickly warmed up. Liam (tour manager) set the tone with easy introductions and an overview of the days ahead.

Wining and dining, the shared laughter and lively conversation came quickly and easily; strangers fast turning into friendly, traveling companions. We related stories of where we’d come from, where we’ve been and why we chose this exciting journey.

We awoke the next morning under rainy skies, and met our jovial driver, Emmett, who’d drive us safely around in our mid-size bus, covering over 2,150 miles of scenic Ireland. He occasionally offered up some great Irish tidbits to savor.

What awaited us was lush, green landscapes, roads narrow enough for a horse cart, and for a while, a one-way road tightly clinging to a narrow cliff coastline (David – please avoid looking out the windows!).

Russborough House and Murillo

An hour’s south of Dublin, through the picturesque Wicklow countryside, known as the “Garden of Ireland,” is Russborough House, one of the nation’s most finest, and imposing homes. It’s a vision of stately elegance, with its long, impressive façade and beautifully landscaped grounds. We arrived under a light drizzle, for our group’s private tour.

The house was built in the mid-1700s and is a classic example of the Palladian style of architecture (think Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello or The White House).

The interior rooms are filled with an extraordinary, private collection of artworks assembled by the Earls of Milltown, followed by Sir Alfred Beit (1903-1994); all previous owners of the House. These include masterworks of: paintings, silver, porcelain, tapestries, and fine furniture.

The tour began right off the bat with a bang, as we encountered six breathtaking Bartolomé Esteban Murillo (1618-1682) paintings, known collectively as “The Prodigal Son” narrative cycle series. These masterpieces were originally brought to Russborough House by Sir Alfred Beit in the mid-20^th-century and were displayed in his grand dining room. The golden highlights alluded to Beits’ background as a South African gold and diamond mining magnate and owner.

The six paintings were gifted to the Irish National Gallery in 1987, and over the years, with meticulous restoration, were often loaned to other museum exhibitions. Lucky us, we were privileged to see the return gathering under one roof, for this is the first time in over 20 years that all six paintings have returned to Russborough House.

Murillo was a renowned 17^th-century Spanish Baroque painter best known for his religious works. He was one of the most famous Spanish artists both in his time and in subsequent centuries; celebrated for his ability to capture both sacred themes and everyday life.  

The Murillos fill the dining room, taking me by surprise with their tender expressions; emitting a sense of hushed devotion that seemed to quietly and effectively still the space around them with their beauty. Their close proximity and intimacy just took one’s breath away.

It was thrilling to witness, for several reasons: here we are, way out into the countryside of Ireland, we’re on a private estate, and then there’s our fortunate timing, it being a temporary loan from the National Gallery. A fortunate stroke of serendipity.

Murillo’s Prodigal Son series, painted in the 1660s, is remarkable in that it’s the only complete, narrative cycle that the artist produced, and one of just two he ever created. His six scenes trace the parable’s journey from the son’s departure to his ultimate return. They’re unique in 17^th-century Spanish art.

The paintings survived two dramatic art theft attempts at Russborough, in 1974 and 1986, spared only due to their large size. Their safe return and continued prominence is attributable to the Beits’ devotion.

The home’s tour, with its centuries worth of art and history, gave me the sense of both the grandeur of the estate and its astounding collection.

National Bird of Prey Centre

After the house tour, we continued out back on the estate’s grounds, now in a steady downpour (“Welcome to Ireland!”), and apropos to the premises, it was raining “owls and eagles,” for we were visiting the awesome National Bird of Prey Centre. It’s a hidden gem nestled in the gardens and parkland that surrounds Russborough House. It’s an educational experience of all things raptor.

The Centre is home to an impressive variety of birds of prey: owls with eyes like lanterns, falcons sleek and restless, and hawks perched with an almost regal composure.

We huddled under umbrellas as our impassioned Birdman, aka guide, explained the goal of the center, and gave detailed descriptions of the birds under its care. I lingered the longest at the Snowy Owl’s cage, staring into its intense, bright eyes and steady gaze aimed straight back at me. There it was – the weight of centuries of myth, mystery and wildness as it peered into my soul. Or, possibly, it reminded me of Harry Potter’s pet snowy owl, Hedwig.

Our special moment and highlight of the visit was a meet and greet with some raptors, and an opportunity for our group to have a chance to hold a variety of birds on our arms, and meet these majestic, precious beings up close.

If the Snowy Owl looked into my soul, the Common Barn Yard Owl stole my heart as I held and stroked the plumage of this beautiful creature. I felt a connection with both animals, could this possibly be my spirit animal?

The astrologer in Bhutan told me that my spirit animal was a bird, but he didn’t specify the type, only that my “spirit soars.” Owls symbolize wisdom, intuition, and spiritual guidance. Having had direct encounters with owls in Ireland, I do hereby claim the owl to be my beloved spirit animal! Isn’t that a hoot!

Mr. Shy and reserved, David, on the other hand, reluctantly chose to hold a handsome Harris Hawk. They’re known as the “wolves of the sky” for their cooperative hunting in social groups. This is a rare behavior among birds of prey that allows them to take down larger prey, ensuring a reliable food source for the group. I don’t know if the big smile on his face was of happiness or frozen, in sheer terror.

Irish National Stud & Gardens

Yes, you read that right … there’s such a thing as the Irish National Stud & Gardens, birthplace of Champions, found in County Kildare. It’s a place where Ireland’s deep, equestrian tradition breathes through every paddock, and where the thoroughbreds are treated like royalty.

The expansive, parklike grounds are sweeping and verdant green, dotted with mares and foals that seemed perfectly at home in their personal, large and grassy enclosures. Our young, knowledgeable guide walked us through the history of the studs, pointing out the bloodlines of champions; whose names still echo on racetracks worldwide.

This farm has produced several world-famous racehorses, the most notable being Invincible Spirit (born Feb. 1997), considered the most influential stallion to have stood at the Irish National Stud and a prolific sire.

During his stud years, he commanded over 120,000 Euros per “covering” (the term used by stud farms to describe mating). He could mate with over 100’s of mares during the season. You do the math as to what his income potential was.

The Irish Stud Farm does not use artificial insemination. There are all sorts of safeguards and guarantees to make sure that it’s a successful covering before any money changes hands for the stud service.

There’s more than just horses on site … Their Japanese Gardens were created over a century ago, with its winding paths, arched bridges, and tranquil pools for quiet introspection. Of course there’s a great gift shop (David!), and a lovely café.

As a lover of horses, there was nothing more majestic than standing so close to these powerful animals; gorgeous creatures bred for speed, yet grazing peacefully and calmly as if time itself had slowed.

Btw .. the word “stud” comes from the Old English stod, meaning “herd of horses, place where horses are kept for breeding.”

Waterford

The ancient Viking settlement of Waterford was founded in 914 AD and is Ireland’s oldest city. It’s a seaport located in the southeast. Of course you know it as the original home of Waterford Crystal, founded in 1783. It’s Ireland’s most iconic, luxury brand, famous worldwide for its exquisite hand-cut crystal glassware, and a symbol of craftmanship and elegance.

A walking tour of the town’s inner core gave us a view of Viking remnants, as you could feel its history layered beneath every stone and surface, and if you dug deep enough, you might come face-to-face with fragments of it.

The massive Reginald’s Tower, once a stronghold of Norse power, incredibly stands intact for over 800 years. It keeps guard by the quay; its weathered, massive stone walls whispering tales of raiders turned settlers.

A final tour stop brought us to the studio of a former glass carver at Waterford, master glass artist, Sean Eagan. Former because before the factory suddenly closed in 2009, upon declaring bankruptcy, it would reopen in 2015 under new ownership, and did not include Sean, for personal reasons.

Therefore, to keep himself busy and active, he opened his own place situated literally right across from the Waterford Store as an act of defiance. Here, his craft is no less meticulous, though the tools have changed. He continues the legacy of glassmaking, but with his own creative stamp.

Sean kept us all enraptured and amused with his endless gift of gab and storytelling. He’s epitomizes the Irish wit and charisma, great humor and adaptability. A great charmer, that Sean Eagan is!

Watching him work was a marvel. The diamond wheel bites into crystal, transforming a blank surface into magnificent, flowing patterns of light and shadow. Each piece seems possessed of both delicacy and permanence, as though the stories of Waterford itself were etched into glass.

The day felt like a bridge between past and present, from the Vikings who shaped the city’s beginnings to the glassmakers who give it sparkle and renown today.

I used to be a avid collector of Waterford barware, especially the Kildare line. Each piece caught the light in its own way, sparkling with a kind of quiet luxury that never failed to make me smile. When we simplified life, and moved down to Mexico, the collection was sold, and though it felt right at the time, a part of me still misses that familiar shimmer and glow. Today, I found myself wandering into the Waterford store, unable to resist the pull. I didn’t buy a thing, but I stood there for a while, just admiring the beauty – the way the crystal seems alive when it catches the light, and the way it reminded me of another chapter of my life.

Cobh

Quaint and charming best describes Cobh (pronounced “Cove”), a harbor town on the south coast of County Cork. If Cobh was situated in México, it would have been deemed a Pueblo Mágico, a Magic Town, it being a picture-perfect postcard town, with pastel-colored houses stacked on the hillside and the great spire of St. Colman’s Cathedral watching over the sea.

However idyllic it appears, walking its colorful waterfront reveals something of its loaded history and ties with the RMS Titanic, the ill-fated ocean liner of the White Star Line.

For it was on April 11, 1912, that Cobh, then called Queenstown (after Queen Victoria), was the final port of call for the great, and tragic ocean liner. 123 Irish emigrants boarded here, carrying hopes and dreams of new beginnings in America.

Standing at the quayside, looking out across the same waters where tenders once ferried passengers to the waiting Titanic, was strangely moving. The harbor that leads out to the Celtic Sea shined under the afternoon sun, yet it was easy to imagine the nervous anticipation, the last goodbyes, and the sense of adventure of the doomed passengers; shadowed by the impending disaster.

The Titanic Experience Museum is housed within the original White Star Line ticket office building. The nearby, striking, red terracotta Cunard Centre building, from 1890, holds historical significance as it was once the ticket office of the renowned ocean line company.

Cobh carries this history with quiet dignity. It’s a town where the past is not forgotten, but remembered with compassion, and a reminder of both the dreams and the fragility of those who once stood here before sailing into history.

Enough time was allowed for us to grab a bite to eat at a small, waterfront cafe… a delicious, homemade sausage roll and gelato afterwards fit the bill before we were off for some Irish Whiskey tasting.

Jameson Distillery

Founded in 1780 by James Jameson, the Jameson Distillery in County Cork uses the legacy formula of the company’s triple-distilled Irish whiskey process, and continues to be a celebrated Irish Whiskey brand. 

We’d been on prior distillery tours in Scotland, where the minute you stepped inside, the air wafted with a soft, sweet aroma of barley and oak. Here at Jameson, it was a very curated experience, almost sanitized. There was no hovering aromas here.

We learned the story of Jameson, who believed in craftsmanship and patience. Our guide walked us through the traditional process: the malting and milling of barley, the slow distillation in copper pot stills, and the long, quiet years in oak casks where the spirit softens into whiskey. Nice enough, but it all fell flat to me like a pre-staged factory setting. Stiff and sterile come to mind.

The highlight, of course, was the tasting for all participants, but for me, the taste of whiskey just never took hold for me. I gladly shared my samples with our fellow travelers.

The darkened room was all abuzz with laughter and clinking glasses, sharing a ritual older than myself, in the craft of patience, tradition, and joy poured together into every glass. Skol!

Faithlegg House Hotel

Gate 1 Travel always provides for nice accommodations, but the last two nights went beyond. The beautifully restored Faithlegg House Hotel is a historic Palladian-style mansion built in 1783, by Cornelius Bolton, a progressive landlord and politician. It stands regally at the head of Waterford Harbour.

You knew that upon arrival that the four-star hotel’s rich heritage was on display with the old family’s stag’s head crest and cross welcoming its guests. A long and winding road through its golf course brought us home to its charms and quiet luxury. Only two days, Gate 1?

Dining at Faithlegg House …

Jack Meades Pub

A dining experience was held at Jack Meades Pub and Beer Garden. At first glance, as we turned off a country road, there sat Jack Meades, nestled beneath an old stone bridge. It appeared to be a small, cozy roadside pub; though right behind it was a parking lot full of cars.

My first thought was the place looks Lilliputian, and it’s got to be very crowded with all those cars, and here we are, arriving by the dozen. I wondered how I was going to balance a gin and tonic and a plate of bangers?!

To my surprise and relief, it turned out that over the years, the pub has grown with additional annex buildings. The original building is historic, dating back to 1705 and it’s been in the present family since 1857!

We settled at our table, taking in the pub’s charms: old photographs lining the walls, brass fixtures catching the amber light, and the faint strains of traditional Irish music floating from the speakers.

The menu promised comfort food and tradition, and it delivered. I savored a perfectly cooked Irish Fish Pie, that was rich and creamy, topping delicious, lumpy, soft mashed potatoes. Fresh soda bread tasted as if it had been baked from a centuries-old recipe.

I love soda bread, and couldn’t eat enough of it throughout the whole trip. I’d lather the bread with a thick slab of Irish butter – gloriously setting off my taste buds. David ordered Ribs and Colcannon, it’s Meades’ version of corned beef and cabbage.

The convivial atmosphere was as much a part of the experience as the food. We were entertained by a guitarist singing old Irish tunes, and joined in melody by our own gracious, smiling server. When she wasn’t delivering plates, she was singing a song.

The overall experience felt like stepping into a living postcard of Irish warmth, unpretentious, and full of life. Leaving Jack Meades, I carried with me not just a satiated appetite, but a sense of connection to the heart of Irish hospitality.

Tomorrow brings us to two counties: County Limerick and County Tipperary; the sound of it just rolls off your tongue.

As seen on our journey …