Limerick – Janet fisher

Going There #9: Rooms with a View

June 25, 2024June 25, 2024Janet Fisher

Yes, of course, there are views, and then there are views. But I have stayed in many a hotel where you’re lucky to have a street to look at. On this trip to Ireland and Austria I stayed in six hotels and five had something interesting out the window. I did not request a view. None of these offered the option.

So, welcome to my tour with a view in mind.

At the Castle Hotel in Dublin my room was on the fourth floor–which meant the fifth, because they start counting one up from the ground floor. A small room, it had all I needed and was fresh and clean. When I peered out the window I smiled.

As buildings go, that was pretty spectacular. It’s the Abbey Presbyterian Church, a stone Gothic Revival structure built in 1862 to 1864. A bird perched on the top right peak as I took the picture, and I later noticed the green nest hunkered below, where birds fluttered in and out from time to time. During my stay when I retreated to the room to put my feet up I took pleasure in the strength of those fine walls and the artistic design. And the birds.

Next stop in Limerick my room at the Old Quarter Townhouse was big enough for a party. It was new and modern–or at least modernized. I looked out the window there and spread my arms, hands uplifted.

There seemed to be a theme here. This one is Saint Michael’s Catholic Church, a limestone structure originally constructed in 1779 to 1781, remodeled in 1805, then rebuilt again in the Italianate style in 1881. This too became a pleasant outlook in the changing lights during my time in Limerick.

On my return to Rosscarbery Catherine O’Sullivan at the familiar Rosalithir B&B happily welcomed me to my newly remodeled room. Everything crisp and bright. And I was so happy to get a front room. The house is on a farm in the middle of green pastures, so all the rooms look out on lovely scenes, framed by the graceful windows and drapes, but the front room looks toward that special notch where the sea glistens blue when the sun is right.

Open the windows and lean out and you see even more.

I peered across the attractive yard wall, past the ancient wall of stone, and out over the wide green pasture to the gap in the bluff that opens to the glimmering sea in the notch. A lovely outlook, much the same as my story characters of the Golden Eagle Clan see from their sacred stone circle, shown below. And from their village one ridge over from the other outlook below, where you can see the gap in the bluff beyond the horse pen.

I felt at home.

In Salzburg I stayed in the guest house in a seminary, Gästehaus im Priesterseminar, which has a historic connection with the adjoining church. Through large windows along the hallway to my room I could see the grand rooftop of that church.

These are domes of the Holy Trinity Church, which borders the seminary on one side, built between 1694 and 1702 to connect with the seminary. So not the view from the room, but from the hall on the way to the room.

From the window in my room I could see this.

It’s the former Palais Überacker built in 1732 by the Counts of Überacker because they wanted a residence close to court, the Mirabell Palace being a very short walk away. It’s just a bank now, but the renovation kept most of the Baroque facade, offering a pleasant outlook from my lovely pristine room.

Last but surely not least was Hallstatt. I knew my hotel there was right on the lake. But not every room could look toward the water. And I didn’t know whether mine would. As noted above there was no option to select a view. So when I stepped into the room my jaw dropped. This was my first sight of the outlook I would have.

The lake! The private deck! I rushed to the door onto the deck and went out.

I could see it all. The shimmering water. The fairytale village. The sheer mountains framing the scene. I could see it from my private deck. From my bed. In daylight and dark.

A room with a view. Ah yes. I loved every view. From Dublin to Limerick to Rosscarbery to Salzburg to this of Hallstatt. And I will treasure the memories like a string of cherished jewels.

NEXT: Reflections

Going There #5: Rivers, Cliffs, the Rock, and the Hat

June 6, 2024December 14, 2024Janet Fisher

Rivers pass through many Irish cities but in Limerick this bold, beautiful river holds the center.

The River Shannon, longest river in Ireland, flows right through Limerick, shown here from Arthur’s Quay near the city’s old town. That’s King John’s castle in the distance.

I arrived in Limerick at Arthur’s Quay where many buses stop, about a two-minute walk to my Limerick hotel, The Old Quarter Townhouse. Great location. Nice hotel. This was my second base in Ireland from which I would explore special sites. Back in my Dublin hotel the man at the desk recommended the bus that brought me, and his advice was good. There in Dublin I was able to walk from the hotel to Burgh Quay, the quay on Dublin’s River Liffey where the bus picked me up, and it was a pleasant ride south through Ireland’s green fields. Dublin and Limerick both have bus stations but I was surprised that many long-haul buses had major stops on these quays along the rivers.

In Dublin a young woman had taken the bus seat beside me and slept for a while, but when she woke we began chatting, though with some difficulty. Her English was limited, and I asked where she came from. “Mongolia,” she said. I was surprised. I came to Ireland to meet the Irish and here I was meeting someone from Mongolia. I don’t think I’d ever met anyone from Mongolia before. With the help of her phone translating app she explained that she was traveling to Limerick to attend university there.

By the time we reached Arthur’s Quay in Limerick she was helping me find my way. A lovely person. She expressed a hope of meeting again, but I supposed her host family would have other things planned. And I had tours to take.

The Cliffs of Moher

My first tour from Limerick advertised stops at these magnificent cliffs as well as the mysterious Burren, a broad area where the land has turned to stone, like paving blocks covering many square miles. I had seen these sites before but, like the revisits I did out of Dublin, I wanted to visit them this time and take pictures for social media and to help in my descriptions of places my book characters go.

A thrill washed through me on seeing the Cliffs of Moher again, my third visit to this amazing place. And a perfect day to see it.

A soft wind carried the sound of bird calls. So many birds–puffins, gulls, and more–nesting in the cliff edges and soaring over the water.

I didn’t remember the stone fence between the sharp cliff edge and the steps up to O’Brien’s Tower, but I see from old pictures from an earlier visit, a stone fence was there. I walked to the tower, then down around where the trail follows the tops of these picturesque cliffs, with a less intrusive fence. Musicians added to the birdsongs. A glorious morning.

After ample time at the cliffs the tour took us to lunch at a small restaurant that did an amazing job accommodating the sudden rush from tour buses. And my quiche was excellent.

I hadn’t heard the guide talk about the Burren, and I asked him about it. They had dropped the Burren from the tour for some reason I didn’t quite understand. Something to do with small towns there having a problem handling all the big buses. A disappointment for me, but I had to let it go.

The Rock of Cashel

The next day my excursion to the Rock I would take on my own, using the public bus system. The timetable showed many stops but fortunately the bus only stopped when a passenger asked for it or someone stood waiting at the stop to get on. Most we sailed right on by. When the reader board inside the bus showed Cashel as the next stop I began to watch our surroundings more closely. On my left the great rock appeared in the midst of a broad plain, brooding clouds overhead.

The buildings weren’t there at the time of my story but I have a vital scene at the site of this great outcrop.

A short walk from the bus stop brought me to the base of the Rock. From this spot you get a much better idea of the massive boulders of mottled white limestone that curve around the height on this side, bright-green turf between the stones. I scrambled up them a ways because I needed to get the feel of the climb. It was precarious. I didn’t dare slip.

These buildings, dating back to the 12th century A.D., came well after my story, but I had to go inside. A little drafty without a roof. Jackdaws, cousins of the crows, seem to love it, nesting in crevices and flying overhead with their haunting cries. [I’ve done some searching online to identify those birds, and I believe most of them are jackdaws. Maybe a few rooks. We don’t have either of those at home so I wasn’t familiar with them.] The whole place seems a little haunted. I suppose the many burials add to that. Some graves are ancient. Some quite new. I’m sure the place has many stories to tell.

This new visit helped me a lot in telling my own. And I appreciated the great view from the plateau overlooking the plains below. Before I left the site those looming clouds began to leak. I took cover for a while but it didn’t show signs of letting up. I didn’t bring an umbrella. My little rain jacket had to ward off what it could. By the time I made the short run into town I was pretty wet, but I ducked into the nice cafe where I’d had another of my scone lunches, ordered something else for an excuse to stay until I dried off a little, and was glad enough when a warm bus came for my return to Limerick. The spirit of the Rock lingered with me.

It Was the Hat

My last day in Limerick I decided to see the local attraction of King John’s castle. Impressive enough on the River Shannon. The site still resonates with power from 1200 A.D. when King John of England had it built. History on the location goes back to the 900s A.D. when the Vikings came.

On my return from there I was contemplating looking into a shopping center for souvenirs for family when I noticed a woman walking down the street. It was her hat that caught my attention. I had seen that hat before. Yes! On the bus from Dublin. In all the bustling city of Limerick how would you expect to meet someone you met before? I saw only her profile and her hat covered much of her face. But on the bus I had particularly noticed her hat. I stepped over and spoke. Her eyes lit up and we shared a strong hug. My friend from Mongolia.

It’s not a great picture of either of us. She’s much prettier with warm, bright eyes, and I don’t usually have jowls, but it’s us. I believe her given name is Erdene. The contact name she gave me is Bolor-Erdene. But I could never quite understand her when she told me.

It was a lovely afternoon and we enjoyed a couple hours walking up the river together. Talking. Sharing words. Laughing. We talked about Mongolia and about Oregon and showed each other pictures of our homes on our phones. She especially loved the swans along the River Shannon. What a delight!

NEXT: Heart of the Heart

Going There 2024 – Overview

May 15, 2024June 17, 2024Janet Fisher

Every place seems to have a certain personality, a character you can only know in its presence, so when I write a story and spend any amount of time in a particular place I want to reflect the sense of it. That’s why I want to go there, to know it, and thus better knowing it, let my reader know and feel what I felt there.

As my followers may remember I recently completed a historical novel set in ancient Ireland and surrounding lands. I had already visited many of these places when researching the series that’s related to this story, but happenings differ and characters may look at their world from different perspectives. Can she, for instance, see the river from there?

This is Newgrange, the ancient passage tomb built some 5,000 years ago by Neolithic people who walked there long before my characters. It’s older than Stonehenge, older than the pyramids of Egypt. My story opens in 750 BC. And yes, she can see the river from this spot outside the tomb. She won’t try to ford it, though. It’s much too deep and swift. I’ve seen that now. She’ll take a boat across, as I’d written it.

I have visited Newgrange twice before, in 1993 and in 2004, but not only was I working on different stories then, I did not have a digital camera that would allow me to share such a photo here on my website or on other social media. I carried my small Nikon digital camera I took on my 2018 trip and a newer iPhone than I had then. And I sought out better pictures as well as research photos to help me hone my descriptions.

Late last year I began contemplating this trip. I decided I would limit it to Ireland, home of my protagonist, and Hallstatt, Austria, homeland of the proto-Celts, where she spends a considerable amount of time. For quick stops I can take trips by Google Map, but for long stays I want to soak a place in. I had visited the charming village of Hallstatt once before in 2006 when I traveled there with my Austrian friend Tilly. But I was researching a different book then, one that fell by the wayside. Now I wanted to see Hallstatt with the new book in mind.

I had forgotten how steep the mountains, how stark the limestone cliffs, how sparkling the lake. Yes, the quaint houses will ever climb that bluff, the iconic church steeple pierce the sky. But as I wandered the single street, climbed the many steps, found the waterfall I knew was there and included in my story, I enjoyed a sense of it I did not have before.

I didn’t rent a car so in Ireland I picked bases from where I could take tours or just go on my own by bus or train. I started with eight nights in Dublin. Then to Limerick for five nights. And a five-night return to the heart of my story, Rosscarbery, staying at the Rosalithir B&B with my wonderful hosts Catherine and Finbarr O’Sullivan. My third visit with them. The last visit in 2018 had been much too short and left me with critical questions on the setting. The new visit would answer questions I didn’t even know I had. A vital visit for understanding the lay of the land. And the water. The beach.

This was the rugged eastern headland I needed for one of my stories. Golden Eagle Bay in the world of my characters was broader than I thought on my brief stop in 2018. It took me several walks, especially over the newly improved Cliff Walk on the western headland to figure it out. From there I looked back and the setting became quite clear, the revisions I would have to make.

It was moments like this that I confirmed my need for this trip. Yes, it was time to travel again. Yes, I wanted to revisit these special places, but with that discovery and more I found answers to questions I hadn’t thought to ask.

In the next several blog posts I’ll share the journey–from Dublin to Salzburg, Austria, where I stayed a couple of nights on either side of my Hallstatt excursion because of its access to an airport. A lovely spot itself where I stayed in an amazing 17th century seminary converted into a hotel. The adjoining church even had a domed roof.

I’ll add the posts to the new “Going There” list on the sidebar as I publish each one.

Going There #12: Heart of an Irish Story

August 11, 2018September 22, 2025Janet Fisher

If my visit to Knossos in Crete felt like being home because of all the days I lived there in my mind while working on my first story in the ancient series, my return to Ireland felt like returning to another home of the mind. Ireland becomes significant to the Cretans as they seek another place of peace in the world.

The last time I traveled to Ireland I stayed a month there with my late friend Tilly Engholm. She and I spent six days on the island’s south coast at the small town of Rosscarbery, the central location for the Irish/Éireann characters in the series. The fictional village of my Golden Eagle Clan sets just below the stone circle now called Bohonagh Circle, an easy walk from the Rosalithir B&B where we stayed. This wonderful B&B hosted by Catherine and Finbarr O’Sullivan is one of the friendliest places I’ve visited in all my many travels.

Of course I had to return and wanted to introduce my writer friend Lynn Ash who was traveling with me on this part of my current trip.

Since the last visit to Ireland I had drafted more books which took my characters to places I’d never seen. The treks through Portugal and the UK gave me a good look at many of those, but I also had a few new scenes in Ireland in places I hadn’t been.

Before traveling to Rosscarbery I wanted to spend a little time at a location closer to the new settings and chose the historic village of Adare near Limerick.

It’s a charming place with thatch-roofed cottages and a crumbling castle, a lovely river walk, and entertainment by a terrific young Irish musician.

The tourists have found it, but we got a quiet B&B on the outer edge, with a country setting and lovely breakfasts, the Carrigane House.

We stayed three nights to explore the area. I found my beautiful green fields for a big battle scene and the treacherous ford across the River Shannon at Limerick.

(I later found reference in a blog post by Irish waterway historian Brian Goggin that there was likely a more passable ford across the River Shannon about ten miles north of Limerick near O’Briensbridge. He kindly responded to my email to confirm there was probably an ancient ford just below the bridge. Brian had helped me before with information on the River Barrow which figured in scenes for a previous book in the series.)

On one of the three days at Adare I used my bus pass to ramble down to Kilrush on the Shannon and check out another scene, enjoying a stroll to the marina and a tasty salmon lunch at Crotty’s Pub.

We found pub food to be reasonable and delicious. In Adare we had to have at least one meal at the famous Blue Door with its fine thatched roof.

From Adare we took the bus to Rosscarbery with a bus stop at Cork City where we watched the beautiful island clouds rise over this intriguing city.

Catherine at the Rosalithir B&B welcomed us with open arms as I knew she would. The B&B is on a working farm just outside Rosscarbery. They raise fine purebred beef cattle now, having switched from the dairy cattle they had on my last visit. Lynn and I booked only two nights with them, one full day. It wasn’t nearly enough, but we would do what we could.

From the upstairs deck of the house we looked out over the yard to the surrounding farms. Haze screened our view of the sea in the gap. Note the old stone fence on the far side of the road.

Anxious to see the stone circle so central to my stories, I headed out with Lynn in the morning. Catherine told us about a walk to the circle I hadn’t taken before–a lovely hill walk over green patchwork fields with views back to the B&B and forward to the ocean. If you can zoom the first photo below you may see the B&B. It’s a pale-pink building with two facing gables in the middle of a wide field in the upper right.

My heart pounded as I climbed straight up the slope to Bohonagh Circle–called Golden Eagle Circle by the Éireann characters in the series.

My circle.

After the huge rings of Almendres Cromlech in Portugal and Castlerigg in England this circle looked small. Bracken and brambles had filled the interior since I last strolled through.

Bluebells lifted their heads above the competition. I remembered those exquisite flowers blooming among the stones from my visit before.

I made my way into the ring despite the tall growth and took my time, circling the ring to consider each stone. I remembered the rough faces, the cool edges, the warm, the tall pillars with tops beyond my reach, the low, the wide entrance between portal stones I could barely touch at once with my outstretched arms, the slanted tops, the rounded, fat, slim, one slant that matched the slant of the sea gap beyond. Echoes shimmered. Dancing feet pummeling the ground. Voices of pleasure, pain, supplication. Though left to the wildness of winds and other natural forces the circle still seemed to resonate with a subtle power–maybe more so because of the untamed elements.

Here lay the heart of my Irish stories.

We would visit the better known Drombeg Circle with Catherine. Close to the highway, that one is a National Monument, well maintained by the Commissioners of Public Works for the state.

A sign at the site notes that on the winter solstice the sun sets at a point aligned with the center between the portal stones and the middle of the recumbent stone opposite. In my story this is the village circle of my neighboring Red Deer Village. The circle rests on a bench of land overlooking the broad fields below, the sea lost again in the distant haze. In one of my books the clanspeople of southern Éire face the warriors of Zambujal on those broad fields, and in another a young Red Deer woman faces the wrath of her father. Many scenes there.

*Drombeg Circle, My Circle of the Red Deer Clan*

We closed our day with a visit to the sea in the softening light. I wanted to revisit Golden Eagle Bay. We drove to the wrong bay first, then found the right one. I hadn’t remembered the shoreline quite right, so the stop helped me form a better sense of place in this important setting. Anguished partings happen here. And poignant reunions.

The wash of the sea brought many memories, like recurring waves.

With one last look at this bay below the site of my Golden Eagle Clan village I embraced the scene, feeling enriched by this and so many experiences over the course of my journey. I would hold these places in my mind and heart, hoping to share and let others see and feel the wonder of it all.

NEXT: Postscript