Hobo Chronicles: Le Conte Continue..

So, as you may have noticed from my last few posts, I am again in Europe.  I flew into Dublin a week and a half ago, spent a couple nights in Dublin, then went to Westport in County Mayo (that's the west coast of the Isle, sort of the Irish version of California, which is to say that it is nothing like California at all, excepting only that the landscape there is stunningly beautiful, which is one of the few things that I utterly adore about Cali, the others being the redwoods, the wildlife, the Asian cuisine, the vineyards, the Mexicans, SS Peter & Paul in Ben Lomond and the mission churches.. All of which is to say that that comparison is somehow despite all that still immensely to Ireland's favor) where I intended to climb Craugh Patrick (St. Patrick's penitential climb, 2500 ft. to where he fasted for 40 days and cast all the demons off the peak, and sent all the snakes from Ireland) but did not. It was way too wet, and I've realized that I really am not much a fan of mountain climbing. I am meant for sea level, and enjoy looking at mountains from down here.

Anyhow, I enjoyed Westport very much. One of its many virtues is that it is a mere 45 minutes or so from Ireland's nation Marian shrine, Knock. I spent one night there, in the rough for the first time this trip. The prior post (that self portrait) is of me at the shrine, in the sanctuary they built on the backside of the local parish church where the apparition of Our Lady, Saint John and St. Joseph and the Lamb on the altar occurred.  There will be another post quite soon with some more pics from Knock.

After this, I crossed the Irish Sea to Wales, and took a train to London, where I caught another train north to the English national Marian shrine at Walsingham. I've always wanted to make a pilgrimage there, ever since I learned of its existence, so the visit was a dream come true. I spent two days there, and debated going to Aylesford, where the Carmelites keep a monastery, where Simon Stock received the brown scapular in the 13th Century. I've worn the scapular for a couple decades now, and shedding it was one of the major reasons I couldn't remain Orthodox. I felt naked without it, I only ever take it off when I'm about to get wet.  I was drawn there, but..

England is way too expensive, and I was feeling the yen to parle some Francais..

So I took the channel ferry here, to Normandy, yesterday. I'm in Ouistreham, which happens to be on the most eastern of the Norman WW II invasion beaches. Upon Sword Beach, specifically, which is where the British and Free French landed. I slept last night in the dunes off the beach, near the ferry terminal here. It's been sublime.. I've been sleeping rough now for over a week, with Army bivy sack and sleeping bag, strung tarp when needed. I've been doing this all over Europe ever since my Junior Year abroad in 1991-2, and it never gets old. Like Hilaire Belloc, mon maitre et inspiration, I just can't get over the yen of humping and hoboing it all over here. I'm now approaching a dozen trips like this, easily more than 100 nights total. I so very love it. Besides being utterly cheap (I'm on the same budget I was in Latin America, trying to keep expenses to 30-40 euro a day, which buys good hotel rooms there, but gets you a bed in a hostel dorm here if you're lucky, and I'd rather sleep outdoors for free, merci bien) it is also way too sweet.

This is where I slept last night:

Slept in that nook there.. with camo bivy, presque invisible, n'est-ce pas?

So, tomorrow I take the bus a town over to Lisieux.  I'm backlogged a couple three posts with pictures, so I'll get to posting about that and Mont St. Michel later this coming week. I'll try to get blogger working for me, by writing posts in advance, dating them to automatically post for me later on.. I can do that, right? Yes, of course right. All the coming three days' posts will be done automatically. I'll post on Ste. Therese and St. Michel on or about Wednesday..

Anyway, for the moment, one more image from the dunes of Normandy:

Du cidre sur le plage..

Well.  That's about all I've got at the moment.  On va souper.



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