On-the-Road Tales

Mum and I drove back in Donegal and I was ecstatic to see my lovely mountains once again. Despite all I have seen, I still maintain my family home in Dunlewey, Donegal has the most spectacular scenery in the world. Valleys and glens, waterfalls, and lakes, quartzite and marble. Put the visual together with all the memories in these hills – its my heaven on earth.

Being home all of one day, it was back on the road again. Found out last minute about a family gathering of my Dads side, some cousins I never met, so we hopped in the car to head south to Swinford Mayo. For those of you family listening…We drove down and met up at the local hotel for Mae McLoughlins 80th birthday celebration. Mae was married to what would be our grand-uncle John. Mae’s daughter Phyllis brought her over from London to throw her this surprise party. I met Ethna’s sister Audry, my late grand-uncle Martin’s wife Nuala and her daughter Karen and Uncle Henry and cousin Phillip arrived. It was wonderful to see all these relatives and hear some stories of yore especially since Dad would tell them to me.

When World War II was raging in Europe, the aircraft would sometimes miss London and overfly Dublin, dropping bombs there instead. My grandmother, Bridget (B) McLoughlin sent Daddy up to her mother’s farm in Swinford where it was safer. He attended school there for a few years. I often heard him tell of his uncles making poteen (moonshine) in the fields and that they were fortunate not to get caught since the other uncles were the guards (police). Apparently, that stradegy did not always work as I heard of the disgraced ones who got caught and ended up in court!

I relayed my story of finding Aunt Mauras grave in Lima, Peru and meeting her friends and I was told of some of the antices Aunt Maura used to pull. It was a lovely evening all around.

So I said goodbye to my dear friends in their little English hamlet and bussed over to Birmingham Airport after Francisco dropped me in Coventry. On the way into the terminal I had seen signs for “Aviation Experience” and decided to go explore since I was in good time for my short flight over the irish sea. On the third floor of the airport was a fantastic little aviators heaven. Models, books, posters – it was class. They also has an observatory deck and it was an experience all right. For the first time in my life I came face to face with these aviation trackers I have often read about. In the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, there must have been 20 guys up there with scanners, binoculars, jotters catched tail numbers as the aircraft landed. They were not coming in fast and furious so there was a lot of downtime between when they chatted amongst themselves about where this aircraft originated from, who it belonged to previously, discussions regarding the paint scheme – it was mad. When one did land – there were excited confirmations yelled back and forth along the length of the glass lookout perch about the exact registration number. ” Hey fellas, I got G-XVY…anyone catch the last digit?” “that would be a zed. I saw her in here yesterday too.” Like I said, learn something new about this field everyday. (Very odd – here we thought foamers was just a train thing guys)

A mere 45 minutes after takeoff, I landed at Belfast City Airport. Ahh, back on terra firma. I hopped on a handy shuttle transport which after one stop at the international airport, went direct to Derry Quayside. Mum was waiting for me and after she exclaimed how she could not believe I made it through the trip alive (such faith), she remarked how it felt like forever since I left. I was thinking the opposite – it seemed like yesterday even though 5 months and a lifetime of experiences had passed.

I quickly realized it was going to be a rough transition back into family life. Solo backpacking is perfect. You do not have to answer to anyone or commit to anything because its just you and your most important responsibilities besides making your next aircraft are soaking up as much culture and local culinary delight as you are willing to endure.

Fast forward to real life — virtually none of the above hold true. My first task after my parental reunion was to pay the parking voucher at the machine inside the parking garage. Despite insrtucting me to go do it, Mum followed and stood right beside me and to administer step by side instructions on how this, apparently complex task, were to be be performed. “Now Erin, put the ticket in the slots, now you slide in the coins – yes this one is a pound here, now push the button ,hold on, wait. Okay there it is.” I was a little shell-shocked. “Mom, besides the fact that the instructions are written right here in English, I think I can handle it. I just successfully made it through 12 foreign countries, I think I can make it through a parking garage in number 13. She probably would have acknowledged with a dismissive sure, sure had she not already launched into the next segment of how I would be required to feed the paid ticket into the little box as we drove out. Wheww. It was going to be tough week..

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