This is a fact of life that I thought I might share with you. I know that lots of people don't wake up early so I have learned to deal with it. I have become adept at being very quiet as I get ready and leave to explore whatever area I find myself in so that I am not under foot, as it were, while others are sleeping. 
Watched the sun come up over the harbour through the clouds.
Sidenote:
Wicklow Head ,which is just outside of town,
is the most Eastern mainland point in Ireland.
I went down the stone steps to the river and tried to walk along on this little path. A very little path, actually, an almost non existent path. I imagined seeing fish and looked for otter or seal or some other form of wildlife, but I saw none. I knew that seeing beaver was pretty much out of the question. The bird sanctuary was just down the way and I could hear lots of birds but I did not
see any. I thought of going back inside to get my underwater
camera to get photos in the river but it was dark and I thought that the photos would have turned out as little black windows of nothing. maybe I should have tried it .
The 'path' didn't go very far, so, instead of courting a wet and muddy calamity, decided it was best to come back and explore the dryer side of the B&B.
The B&B was lovely with antique desks and interesting decor. The
dining room was setup for breakfast but I was the only one up.
Very quiet, very pleasant.
I headed up the hill to see what was there. Streets in Ireland are very narrow by Canadian standards. They are charming and full of character but very narrow. The street was walled for a good portion of the way with the front doors to houses being right on the narrow sidewalk. I think they also have access to the street from their homes through a side courtyard with gates to the street.
The Hill was steep and long. The sun was up and the dew on
the plants growing on top of the walls was lovely, all sparkly and fresh. They cover the stone walls with a smooth cement-like parge. It looked interesting, like grey icing on a cake.
I did notice this water cover on the sidewalk. In Edmonton,
the water covers are just plain metal covers with Edmonton
on them. Here they are little works of art.
(when I got back to Canada my Aunt Nancy asked if I
brought one home with me as she thought they were lovely
too.
I explained to her that getting through airport security might have been tougher carrying a piece of iron that probably weighed five pounds. They probably would have noticed it on the x-ray machine as I only had carry on, I travel light. Even if they had of let me take my
little souvenir of Ireland back with me, what the heck would
I do with it? use it as a trivet?)
The name of the street is Church Hill road for a good reason.
At the top of the hill is Wicklow Parish Church.
A wonderful old church with the graveyard beside. The graveyard was locked so I thought I would try the church. To my surprise it was open! It was wonderful. A whole new place to explore, with respect I might add.
On the outside of the church was a plaque to Robert Charles Halpin, Master mariner, born February 16, 1836 at the Bridge Tavern (we were there last night).
He was the captain of the SS Great Eastern which laid the
transoceanic Telegraph cables in the late 1800s. I looked
him up when I got home and found out that he was one of the
most important mariners in the 19th century. By laying those underwater cables he was instrumental in connecting victorian age continents and helped make the world the global village it is today. How exciting for those folk.
At the front row of the church in each aisle was a tombstone in the
floor which I had not seen as I was so busy looking at the ceiling trusses , the very pretty stained glass windows and the impressive giant organ at the back in the loft. When I realized what it was, I jumped. Kind of like walking on someone's grave,well actually, it is walking on
someone's grave.
Now there possibly are some of these in old churches in Canada but I had
never run across one (bad pun) before so I was surprised.
I do recall reading that this sort of thing was done by the wealthy patrons of parishes way back when. The stone on one aisle was from 1771. This church was old! It was for a Robert Baker and his two daughters, Mary and Judith. I wonder how many genuflections have been done on that stone? I was the only person there and it was very quiet, peaceful really. I walked all over that church. Through one door, which went out to the graveyard I think, there was a small foyer type room with an arch from
the original church in 1700s. The outer door was locked so I am
not sure if it opened onto the graveyard or not. I went up the stairs to get some pictures from the loft only find a that the door at the top of the stairs to was locked.
When you think about it, the fact that the church was open was
amazing. In canada and the States churches are locked up all
week except for services. The Organ was huge and the wooden rafters were beautifully done. The church was very well kept. The sun was getting higher and I thought I should probably get going to see if Maureen was awake yet. I took a few more pictures and headed back down the hill.
I saw one car drive by and it drove fast, everyone here drives fast.
Although it is possible that due to the steepness of the hill the little car
had to gun it to make it to the top. I also met a young man on his way to school. I asked him where the school was and he said it was on the other side of the hill past the church. He did not go to the Catholic school on the top of the hill across from the church.
The sun was warm and the birds were singing. It was a beautiful day to explore. I love seeing new places and imagining what it must have been like to live in past times.
Whenever I visit places with lots of history, I remember things that I learned in school. Facts that when I learned them I thought
I would never use. But when you are walking down the street where those historic things happened it puts things into a new perspective. I still don't necessarily use that information, but it does make it more personal somehow. That is how they should teach history, with students going on world tours. When I got back to the B&B I got out my journal and entered the previous days and my mornings adventures. Maureen was just getting up and we had a lovely breakfast of scrambled eggs on toast, fruit and tea, but no potatoes. The Irish don't eat potatoes for breakfast.
We didn't know that yet so were kind of let down. Well I was, Maureen loves scrambled eggs so she was as happy as a clam. After breakfast we decided to go back up the hill and see the church. I got a few more pictures in the sun and showed Maureen the stones in the church which marked graves. She was much more nonchalant about them than I had been, but she had probably seen them in France so it was not new to her.
