I woke up, grabbed my phone from the bedside table and saw 12:01!!! I rarely sleep in. For me a sleep in is 8:00 or 8:30am, the last time I woke at 12:00 was when I was a teenager. Morgan, James and Bridget had slept in as well, but I took the prize this morning.
Before we left Spokane we’d decided that while we were in Cork we wanted to visit Helvic Head. Helvic Head is a headland that juts into the sea with a small harbor for fishing boats, but what distinguishes it in our minds is the tune named after it. Helvic Head is a 5 part jig, one of the “mighty” tunes in the repertoire. What could be more satisfying than to go to Helvic Head and play the tune. After morning ablutions we hopped into the car and headed east toward Cork City. To do so we left County Cork and entered County Waterford, skirted south of Cork City and made our way to our goal. Helvic or Helvick is a Norse term possibly meaning safe harbor. You can learn more here, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helvick. when we arrived it was clear and windy.
Looking across the bay toward Dungarvan I was impressed by the size of the harbor. The harbor was also the scene of this event, “In 1867, the Fenians in America sent a ship, Erins Hope, with weapons but failed to land them and returned to New York. Another what if scenario of Irish history.” See this for further information; https://www.rte.ie/centuryireland/index.php/articles/weapons-of-the-1916-rising. After a little exploration we headed back and stopped at Mooney’s Pub, a nice local spot. We noticed the only stout on tap was Guiness and remarked about it to be told that that’s a Cork drink, some pubs in Waterford had it but not them. Guiness it is, but good sweet stuff, it is different in Ireland. We sat out front in the sun and James asked if they’d mind if we came inside and played a tune. We explained that we were wanting to play the tune Helvic Head at the spot of its origin. The tune is likely several hundred years old, it’s writer unknown and they’d not heard it. We tuned up and played it, to the delight of the staff and a handful of visitors. Mission accomplished.
On the way out of the pub Morgan engaged with a man sitting at the bar who had asked if any of us had a connection to Ireland. We took that to mean family. Bridget said she was the only one who was Irish and had a passport. James’s grandparents on both sides were Irish from Cork/Limerick area living in England. Morgan is Norwegian ancestry and I’m a mix of Ashkenazy, German, Italian and Scot. This man said “the bad news is your wrong, if you can play the music like that.” A lovely compliment.
James and Bridget told us that we were having a meal at Ballymaloe House, a favorite place of James’s late mother Ann. It was one of her favorite places in Ireland, from the time she was young. When we arrived we drove down a long wooded driveway with purple rhododendron scattered through it to the site of a magnificent old estate. It serves as a hotel and restaurant, admirably we would add. From wine through dessert everything was beautifully prepared. I had, for the first time, oysters on the half shell. As a kid I used to watch my parents slurp them down at a favorite spot of theirs in Wilmington, North Carolina and it grossed me out. I’d been averse ever since but last night I found out what I’ve been missing. We finally pushed away from the table after four hours, noted it was close to 10:30, made our 90 minute drive back home and played tunes til 1:45am. What a great day!
