Cobh, a heritage town; part 1, the first foray

16th September 

 
Now this is the place to hop off, explore and enjoy. Where the ship berths, it is literally at the quayside of the town and within fifty feet of the gangway for the train to Cork itself; 24 minutes and you're there, it claims.

taken at about 07:15, hence light levels

Built on the hillside with two forts protecting the bay, it's one of those places I would want to come back to and explore them. Boat trips go out during the season, so it was something to keep in mind for a future adventure.
The church is huge for the size of the town so money must have been here. I suspect it's now a commuter town for Cork itself, although tourism seems to be big business, with souvenir shops, cafes, bars and hotels. 

 

We came towards the mouth of the deep water approach to Cobh very early in the morning. Being a natural deep water channel there was no problem with depth but we had to negotiate around a gas tanker getting ready to depart and two naval support ships checking incoming and outgoing vessels. 

It does look a bit as if we started the journey toward the quayside on the coast itself, but they are the markers showing where I wandered whilst there.To start with we seemed to follow the dotted line shown as the Roscoff,FR-Cork,IE line until we came closer to Cobh itself, then we came in quite close as you can see from the top photos and docked alongside.

What a pretty town and in many ways reminiscent of Iceland. I fell in love with it and vowed to return here for a more in depth exploration of the area and Cork itself. I had heard it was very a very pretty city and I wanted to get there by train, so I could look out the window and watch the countryside flow past.

As we had been to Dublin, customs was straight forward and we were able to disembark within about 20 minutes of docking. The longest part of the whole proceeding was to get the gangways properly hung, as the ship had not been here before so it was new for the dock staff as well as the crew on board (we had come across a few places like this on this cruise and I had a feeling it was a new route they were trying out).

First stop for me was to see the memorial gardens for the sailing of the Titanic. It's not a garden per say, more a grassy area with information boards about the people and the sailing. This, it seems was the final landfall the ship made before it went down.

The white arch is the way the passengers would have filed down toward the ship and as they got to the bottom of the steps they would have seen the way out to open sea in front of them. Turning left, they would have come to the dock for the ship and no doubt the ill fated gangways up into the ship itself.

It was a long walk from the centre of the town to the gardens and for those who are poor walkers it would be better to get a taxi. When I was there, a few people came on buggies. Immensely sensible; nice vehicle to go and get the shopping on 😊.....wonder if they get parking tickets? Probably, knowing my luck.

So, I had already eyed the cathedral, St Colman's cathedral to be precise, and it was a long way up. I had seen one route which reminded me of 'coronary hill' in Tenerife, so I was out to find something just a little more gentle. 

My right knee was telling me to be careful and any forward pressure, such as steep steps or hills, caused incredible shooting pains not only through it, but up the thigh as well. Less of that pain, and more pleasure, me thinks.

I started the climb and I was spot on when I said it was a long way up. 
In Wales, round the valleys we'd say 'it went up a bloody depth' and it did that all right.  
I stopped to take this photo (left). I recalled a similar one I'd taken in Tenerife (different part, but its all mountain goat land where I go) and thought I had scaled the peek. I turned round and a Victor Meldrew moment came on.
I grinned, yes this was another Victor Meldrew and I suspected it went higher as we turned that blasted corner I could see ahead. 
The cathedral, however did seem to be lower, so I was in with a chance of not looking like a turkey cock when I finally got there.



 I was relieved to get to the top and rested . I heard the sound of gasping and rasping as two middle aged people struggled the final few yards. Sitting down, she turned to me and commented that was her exercise for the day. I laughed, we had to get down yet.




The cathedral is very large as I suspected, and on the other side of the road you can see in the picture, is a large convent, still in full use. It is built in the full Gothic style and took 45 years to build it seems. Imagine building something like this now? 
One thing I didn't quite get, why did they need 49 bells? 
When I stayed with my great aunt in Wales, the church only needed one to not only get us up (it invariably started donging at 8am), but dressed and out and into the church.....because it was quieter!! It went on until midday, this bell, and only came to a stop because the main service had begun.
And this has 49! Oh boy.
Anyway, less of that, the church itself. Well, as you get to the main doors, there are people there who offer free tours around the building so as to explain anything your heart desires about the cathedral, the town or the Queenstown story. Not bad for a donation is it?
The two on duty were both busy when I got there so I wandered in under my own steam.
It is a very trusting place and has souvenirs for sale on the right hand side as you enter. They are all priced and the box is there, like an honesty box, for you to put your cash in. I imagined that in South East London; the box and the bits would have long gone to be flogged down the local market somewhere, money box smashed and all proceeds kept. Mm, different world, obviously.

Being a catholic cathedral, it carried the aspects one would expect. What caught my eye were these smaller chapels of quiet contemplation.
The statues were beautiful in themselves but the mosaic work behind them shone out like burnished gold. It was magnificent and the photographs do not do their brilliance justice.

This one to the left, Prayer to Our Lady Of Good Council caught my eye, and I truly thought her backdrop was embroidery until I drew closer.
I have no idea who the artist was, but I certainly doff my cap to their skill.

I found the steep way down. Just as I was making my way along this side street, a woman came out and, after doing a quick check no-one was there, emptied her floor cleaning bucket down the hill. It flowed quickly rendering one half on the road slippery. I did wonder what it would be like in the winter with some ice on it.
I shuddered. No, think coffee. Ahh, that's better. There was one near the bottom of this .....mm, my knee hurts this way too.....and I just prayed it wasn't too full.

Everywhere was full! I looked at my phone (my watch had died the moment I got on the ship in Southampton), it was 11:30am. I stood no chance. Like cockroaches at night, we'd gone from no-one about to the place full of tourists being bussed in from around. Oxford Street comes to Cobh.
I went back to the ship. At least I could have a coffee, a seat and some comfort with space and choice. Sorry Cobh, you lost out there.

It also gave me time to go back to my cabin and find my kinesiology tape and apply some to my knee before it got worse.