Ireland: Brad is Fired

Today was the important day. The PS I Love You day. We set off for Wicklow, where scenes from PS I Love You were filmed, and Braveheart as well. It took about an hour from Dublin. Brad said he had a stop that he wanted to hit first. We all agreed without really knowing where.

Here’s us happy after our trip to the grocery store :)


So Brad tells us we are going to a haunted prison. This sounded fine to us, we trusted him. And then we arrived. The tour was 7€/person and were told to wait in he holding cell. We quickly asked the ticket sales girl and other lady about parking and a few other things, which they answered with care. We proceeded to the holding cell.

The room had walls lined with giant posters of all the criminals that had stayed in the joint. In color. The pictures were taken circa 2012. The jail was closed many many years ago. We even realized the other lady behind the ticket counter was one of the criminals on the poster.

…or was she? ….!!

Seconds later, the girl that sold us the tickets came into our holding area. She was dressed in very old traditional peasant attire, and she introduced herself as our local jail guide who, wait for it, had a strong resemblance to our earlier ticket girl but she assured us they were generations apart and a distant cousin at most. Let me assure you, internet, it was her. (…and, we were alone in the tour.) The tour that came next was beyond our wildest expectations. Fake statues, screams on a recording loop, a wind sound machine, flashing strobes and interactive aggressive ghost displays…and a few other cheesy stories to go along with the “life-like” tour. “The jail warden has construction projects ongoing, don’t mind the men in modern clothes, they work for the warden….”

The estimated tour time was 45 min, we were out in 10 at most. Brad was fired after this, even though he accepted full responsibility and apologized. :)

The rest of he day we spent at Wicklow National Park. It was very very gorgeous.


But then life got challenging. We embarked on a 10 km hike that had supposedly some climbing. The first part was very scenic, peaceful, and a stroll.




You see, we followed the white trail…the skiing black diamond equivalent. We climbed, and climbed, and climbed…our bodies started to heat and we got warmer and warmer. But the breeze continued, so I made a head piece to rid myself if hair and cover my ears. It got intense at points but always evened out a bit. But the rocks got sharper and sharper as we climbed.


Eventually we walked long enough, that some had to go back for health reasons while others went for to the top. Along the way:




Huge highlight. They were feral sheep. I don’t know who marked them, but they’re permanent residents, and lovely talkative creatures. I love their color variations (more to come on big camera one day…)

At some point there was a misunderstanding as well. I had been hiking out front a little….you know…enjoying nature, giving everyone space, that sort of thing. Then I realized the distance between us. I waited on a ridge and yelled down to the group that the trail kept going and going. No end in sight. Then I told them I’d run up and see if I could see the end and tell them how long they have to get there.

I dropped my bag beside a rock and started a light run up the mountain. It was incredible. I was hot as heck running and the air was so cool and damp it was fantastic. But while I hiked to the top, I didn’t realize no one could see me. The wind was blowing from my direction towards the group their yelling for me never came through. There was a small waterfall there too so all around the yells were drowned out. Little did I know nobody had heard me say I was going to check out the upmost part of the trail. Oops.

Dado saw my bag in the side of the trail and freaked out. I was gone but all my stuff was there. This is apparently when the yelling happened that I didn’t hear. I think their adventure filled scenarios were that I had slipped, fallen, and gone down the mountain or had slipped, fallen and was laying broken on the ground. Neither were true. A quick search mission ensued between Dado and Brad and then everyone got pissed off and walked down the mountain, body pains in hand. I defended my case with my story, but apparently nobody heard me just as I didn’t hear them. So nobody really cared about the story I had to tell.

In retrospect, fine. I shouldn’t have left my gear. But…we were so close to the top that I wanted to run up to see how far so I could share the good news. But this incident, partnered with the asthma and joints, made all decide to go down the mountain together. I think we’ll all be in a lot of leg muscle pain tomorrow. But it’ll be a good burn , plus we’ve eaten enough pub food to last a lifetime.

Oh! Right before we left we met Razor (according to his tags…?). I fed him my sandwich and then he chased our car. I would have kept him as a little bro for Django.


Tonight we’re at a place right on the water. It’s pretty. It’s interesting to see all the cruise ship lit up in the distance.

It’s bed time. It’s late.



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