Blarney Castle
Today is St. Patrick's Day so here is a repeat performance of our visit to Blarney Castle where the Blarney Stone is a huge tourist attraction.
Bussing
The Blarney Stone
On a visit to
Ireland, my husband, two good friends, and I passed several euros apiece across
a counter to visit the famed Blarney Castle. We strolled up a long, tree-lined
path, keeping the castle’s stone walls in view on a chilly, summer morning.
Four young women
approached and asked if we’d take their picture. They posed carefully, and Ken
snapped the photo. “You next!” one of them said. And so, we four struck a pose
for our picture. As we exchanged cameras, one of the girls said, “You’ll love
seeing the Blarney Stone at the top of the tower.”
Top of the
tower? I hadn’t counted on climbing to
the top to see the famous stone. The legend says that anyone who kisses the
stone will always have the gift of gab—like the Irish are known for. It seemed
foolish to come this far, pay to see the famous spot, and then not do so. So,
through the iron gate and on to the stone stairs that spiraled upward farther
than I could see.
We climbed and
climbed the narrow steps, steadying hands on walls that appeared to close in
more at each new level. Halfway to the top, my knees began to ache and my legs started
to tremble a bit. I pictured those four young women bounding up these stone
stairs with an energy I’d not had for more years than I’d like to mention. Mere
determination kept one foot in front of the other until I finally reached the
walkway on top of the castle, where I found myself at the end of a line of
tourists. Breathing hard, I looked down into a courtyard, miles below, then
inched along with the crowd.
And then I
stopped cold. There was the Blarney Stone, below the walkway, and a woman was
lying on her back, hands above her head, grasping two iron bars, a man on his
knees supporting her. She wiggled a bit more, tipped her head back and bussed
the stone as she appeared to be suspended in air.
I have never made a decision so quickly in my life. There was no way this grandmother of four would perform that feat. I watched as one person after another became an acrobat only to be able to say they’d kissed the Blarney Stone. A few passed on by.
I have never made a decision so quickly in my life. There was no way this grandmother of four would perform that feat. I watched as one person after another became an acrobat only to be able to say they’d kissed the Blarney Stone. A few passed on by.
My husband laid
his hand on my shoulder. “Are you going to do it?” he asked.
I calmly
explained to him that there was no need for me to kiss the stone to receive the
gift of gab. I was born with the blessing of being able to talk my way into or
out of most anything, thanks to my being half-Irish in heritage. And before he
could push me into it, I slid right by the attendant waiting for the next
victim—or participant.
I started the
return trip down the many steps thinking the reverse direction would be easier.
Instead, it proved almost more difficult. My legs were mere jelly by the time I
reached the final step, and I sank onto a stone bench to recover.
As I looked up at the top of the castle
tower, satisfaction settled into my bones. I’d climbed the killer stairway, I’d
seen the Blarney Stone, and I stuck to my decision. Besides all that, I’d made
one more memory to savor again and again.
