Day 6

Day 6, Thursday, October 7, 2010

Beautiful clear blue sky this morning with the promise of sun – no encroaching clouds, yet. I got up at 6:30, took a shower, made coffee, had my muesli and fruit and read. Chip second up. The others straggled in. Tim made bangers again, Leila scrambled eggs. And we planned our day.

This is our day to visit the cheese farm down the lane and then to explore points south. Most of us walked down to the farm, Chip and Leila driving so we could take off from there. Piet (the farmer – he’s Dutch), who moved here from Holland with his wife and 5 kids to find a bigger place to live in 1989 when houses were going for cheap, bought the farm and business lock, stock, and barrel, and after a couple of months’ apprenticeship under the previous owner, was on his own. His wife left him after a year, leaving him alone in the big house.

He was just cleaning his milk tank as we arrived. Every day he gets the morning milking’s from his neighbor’s cows (30 or 40 head), adds bacteria before he tanks it, and brings it home to begin cheese-making which results in something that looks like Swiss, and has the mild flavor of Gouda. He showed us the entire process from the beginning where he dumps the raw milk into a vat and adds the rennet (ordered every spring from Holland) and bacteria, the presses where the rounds are formed, the tanks where he soaks the rounds in brine, and the curing room where he paints on the protective (plastic) coat little by little. There they sit on shelves from floor to ceiling until they’re ready for market. Occasionally, when the bacteria is out of balance, a round may explode, literally. He had cross-sections of one that exploded and he cut off a wedge for Chip, no charge. We had some of it before dinner and it has a bite that his other stuff just doesn’t have but it was very good. We bought some of the smaller rounds of cheese – plain, pepper, garlic -- to take home and then he took us into his beautiful stone house to show us a picture of Mary Kate, the woman who used to own the cottage where we are staying. She lived there all her life, eventually taking care of both her parents until they died and then her brother, who had a bit of a drinking problem.

The entryway with tiled floor and high ceiling is well fitted out for farm life with a place for boots and jackets, but it’s inviting, with paintings and pictures on the walls, a staircase that sweeps up to the second floor. His kitchen is filled with light and seems to be the heart of the house – geraniums are in bloom on the window sills; there’s a comfy chair next to the Aga stove. A stone arch and tiled back-splash frame the kitchen sink, pictures of his family everywhere. His kids are grown up, all living in the area, except the youngest, who is “pursuing a woman in Belfast”; some have children, two in the building trade are out of work because of the terrible economy. Many people are fleeing Ireland again because things are so bad, and many houses have been foreclosed and lie empty, as at home. Our trip down the coast confirms this -- acres of new houses, many of them looking as if nobody lives there.

We made a trip to Lahinch so we could get golf hats for Ben and Pieter and Hano and then headed south along the coast to Spanish Point where we walked the beach. Tim examined tidal pools, where little mussels clustered in the crevasses, kelp all over the beach in piles, and acres of trash at the high tide mark, left there by the receding waters. Wonderful smooth gray rocks, some with white rings. Wandered down the coast to Quilty where we had a pub lunch of the usual vegetable soup which all seems to be the same no matter where you get it. Very nice family-run place. He encouraged us to go beyond to see the brand new Doogan golf complex. Marked by flags flying at the entryway, surrounded by condos, it sits high overlooking the sea and the course itself wanders all over the natural dunes. We parked and walked around, into the atrium around which the main building is built, and Chip bought a “course book” at the pro shop. Lots of Americans wandering around. Chip and Tim, in keeping with golf etiquette, whipped their hats off when we were inside.

Headed back home the direct route, stopping for Piet to take a picture of a cottage ruin, and to Liscannor to a gift shop to buy the last two of the cards of Mary Kate, the woman who lived in our cottage. The place had a “closed” sign on it but the door was open. They were doing inventory, about to close for the winter, but they let us come in and get the cards. Home for naps. Everyone but Piet and I went back down to Ennistymon where Tim put up the blog, Leila checked for e-mail, Chip wandered the main street and took pictures, and Gay went to a bakery and bought us apple strudel for dessert, a treat. Encountered the cows poised for their trek back to the barn, so Gay and Leila hopped out to walk back with them. Had stir-fry chicky and veg and rice and were all so pooped after dinner that we decided not to go to Doolin for music. The guys watched Papillon and the rest of us went to bed. Piet ended up sleeping on the couch at about 3 am because he couldn’t sleep in the bed.