I needed to get out of the city to hitch, so hopped on a bus. It was the same price no matter how far I went, so I took it to Limerick, 2/3rds of my way to Dursey Island and the start of my hike.
Not knowing all the stops the bus would make in Limerick, I waited until it reached the west side of the city. Only it didn't go to the west side. It instead turned north and left town.
Playing the part of an idiot American tourist, I walked up the aisle to explain my ineptitude to the bus driver.
"I have to go back through Limerick anyway," he said. "So if you don't mind waiting, I'll jus' take ya back."
He had a thick Irish accent that was difficult for me to understand. Actually, I'm the one with the accent now, which feels a bit strange. I've even had to repeat myself and talk slower for some people to understand me.
I was relieved he would be going back to Limerick, undoing my stupid mistake. Although, this would mean not getting to Limerick before dark, so I wouldn't have time to hitch or get out of the city to find a place to stealth camp. I booked a hotel room for the night instead.
We got to the last stop on his route and let the final passengers off. The driver got out as well and held up a finger to let me know he'd be right back. After a smoke and a quick phone call, he climbed back on the bus and got behind the wheel.
"After I take the bus to the garage, I'll take you to Limerick in my car," he said.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you had to take the bus through Limerick back to Dublin," I said.
"Ah, no, but I couldn't jus' drop you off on the street so far from where you're going, could I?"
I thanked him and apologized, but he really didn't seem to mind and explained that he lived near my hotel anyway.
I got into the left side passenger seat, which was a bit disorienting. Riding in the left lane really messed with my brain. I'm glad to be on foot otherwise there would at least be some property damage on my future.
When he dropped me off at the hotel, I thanked him and apologized again. He was a good example of the friendliness of the Irish so far. It reminds me a lot of the American southern hospitality.
Okay, so now it's time to try hitching toward Killarney. Maybe they'll take pity on me standing on the rain.
Sorry for the lack of photos, but due to rain I've had my camera put away. Also, I've been too busy getting ready for the trip, shopping for supplies, and busing toward Dursey Island to see any of the sights. Actually, walking the aisles in grocery stores and even chatting to shopkeepers about the weather has been an adventure in itself.
I'll post more photos soon.
Later, she pointed out the community center where she worked, but didn't stop. "I might as well drive you all the way," she said. 
Soon, the fog starting to lift and the adjacent peninsulas became increasingly more visible. Then the clouds broke to reveal bits of blue sky. In less than an hour, Dursey Island went from cold, wet, and gray to a sunny paradise with vivid blue skies and deep green pastures with views of waves crashing against steep rugged coastlines.
At the westernmost edge of the island I climbed the first of two hills. The wind whipped up and over them with speeds strong enough to make walking in a straight line not an option. Between the two hills was an open pasture with dozens of grazing sheep. As I walked through the herd, there were moments when a group of them would run away from me in the same direction I was moving. For the first time, and hopefully not the last time, I felt like a shepherd.
When I finally got as far west that I could possibly go, there sat the ruins of another building. I never found out what it once was, but today it was a great place to get out of the wind, have lunch and do some whale watching before I finally started walking to Dublin.
The four hours of sleep I had the night before started to take its toll. My eyes burned. I closed them and rubbed them with my hands to soothe them. What they really wanted was to stay closed, so I let them for about four seconds.
There was still the matter of it being nearly midnight and having nowhere to go. I left the pub and walked to the edge of town, but I couldn't find anywhere inconspicuous to setup a tent. Then it started to rain. With the roads, which have no shoulders to walk on in Ireland, now dark and wet, I went back to town to find a hostel or B&B. Unfortunately, they were either closed or had no vacancy signs displayed.
The indisputable king of beers in Ireland is Guinness. It is definitely one of my favorites back home, but the bus driver who gave me a ride in his car the other day, assured me that it tastes better and better the closer I get to the Guinness brewery in Dublin.
I absolutely love the Irish countryside. Walking down the country roads is every bit as enjoyable as any trail I've hiked. It's similar to walking down country roads in the US, but there are differences. The roadside flowers are ones I've never seen. The smell of the air is different. The cars are makes and models I never new existed. The homes are not quite like anything in the US, including the fences surrounding them. The bugs biting me are midges, not mosquitoes.
I'm so far behind uploading my journal and photos, but I'll get caught up in a few days. I'll be staying in Killarney on Monday, where my laptop is waiting for me at the post office.
"No thanks," I said. "This is perfect."
I'm leaving for Dublin in a few minutes. I have two flights. First a 10.5 hour flight to Frankfurt, Germany where I have a 6 hour and 40 minute layover, then a 2 hour flight to Dublin. Wish me luck!
Devil's Ridge was our second attempt to get on the Pacific Crest Trail legally. In spots, the trail was as overgrown as Castle Pass and there was a lot of debris to climb over, but we were able to move at a faster pace nonetheless.
Another evening of rain covered the trees in rainwater, which meant we were once again soaked. Stopping meant getting cold, so we kept moving.
For a while there were no views of the peaks to help with navigation. Visibility was down to only a few yards. The trail went due east, so we followed the compass, staying relatively close to the trail all day by zig-zagging back and forth. We'd occasionally see the trail peaking through melted patches in the snow, to assure us we were on track. We'd lose it for a while, find it again, lose it, find it.
Jana, a reader of my blog and now friend, lives in Seattle. She said she wanted to be our last hitch to the Pacific. Red had plans in the city with his girlfriend, but was okay with ending his trip at the Puget Sound.