#535 Across the Pond--The Ireland Swim

You can see one of the swans.

Well, I'm back after a mini break and a jolly lope through Ireland.  A quick recap:  Couldn't drink the Guiness (gave me tummy troubles but Rob certainly made up for it), swam in Lough (Lake in English) Corrib, now have more knowledge about hurling, gaelic football and rugby than the average American, biked on Aran Islands and overall had an amazing time.  Those Irish lads and lasses certainly know how to treat foreigners--everyone is a friend--we should all aspire to their kindliness and all around good nature.


Did I mention the swim? Check this one off the list of freezing one's you know what off.  Our driver, Don, was a champion locating a wetsuit and finding a good entry point for me complete with a scenic view of a castle.  Of course Rob was the gallant knight traipsing through the brush trying to pinpoint my exact location since a boat was not available for him to crash...I mean... lead me through the water.  I was close enough to shore so never felt in danger of drowning but the best husband ever thought it was necessary to try to follow me from shore--where there was no path.  So, up and down he ran and popped out wherever there was an opening.  My swim was no more than 3/4 of a mile yet he must have run close to five miles over and around the hills.

The water was crystal clear and with the first face plant I realized the frigid 59 degrees would necessitate a speedy swim.  As I left the shoreline with the Ashford Castle in view, two swans parted their way and I swam between them--felt like scene from a movie.  Despite the dramatic beginning it was an uneventful swim, however, I did see a vast amount of garbage beneath the water's surface.  The Irish version of the Lock Ness monster in the form of a bike, poles and various other articles.  People--universally--are sometimes inconsiderate stooks (Irish word for fool).

Yes Rob, I'm still here!

Meanwhile, as I progressed through the almost frozen lake, Don was at the designated end point frantically waving his arms so I could see the direction I should be headed.  No worries that I would keep going since by that time my feet felt like they were beginning to turn green (The Irish blue) and swim number 35 was soon in the record books.

The craic (fun) of a good day for us, no rain at that moment; and while I only had Don cheering me on (and, of course, Rob running through the bramble), another priceless memory in Ireland was stored in our brain's hard drive.

Thanks for reading #535 of 7777.