Day 129: Ballymartle Woods – Cork – Lissava

The night in Ballymartle forest was so quiet that even the owls seemed to have turned off their alarm clocks. Total silence, no sirens, no cars, and no ghosts from the leaning cemetery nearby. The best thing is that the place wasn't even on Park4Night... until papi Edu, as a good digital explorer, added it so that other humans and doggies could enjoy it.

We left late, around eleven in the morning, heading north. Our destination: Cork. We parked north of the center and went down on foot, because a city smells better at dog's pace.

The exploration was quite an urban adventure. We strolled through the Victorian Quarter, with its elegant buildings and facades that seemed to want to tell us stories. Then we arrived at Saint Patrick's Street, the main artery of the city, full of shops and people going back and forth like hurried ants.

The English Market drove me crazy with smells. It turns out that it opened in seventeen eighty-eight and still today continues to sell fresh products as if nothing had changed. There you can find cheeses, fish, breads and even spices from distant places. I thought: "If this market has been operating for more than two centuries, surely there is also a bone saved for me in some corner".

When hunger struck, we sat on the terrace of a small restaurant, just on the way to the cathedral. I strategically placed myself under the table, waiting for some crumb from heaven.

We also saw churches that looked like sacred castles and colorful murals that gave life to the gray walls. Each corner was a surprise. But the real gem was St. Fin Barre's Cathedral. We only saw it from the outside, although its history is imposing: they say that in the seventh century there was already a monastery founded by Saint Fin Barre, patron saint of Cork, and that the current cathedral was built in the nineteenth century. Its three spires point to the sky with such force that it seems to prick the clouds.

Next to it we discovered a small labyrinth, a modern gift for visitors. I ran inside as if I were looking for the sacred treasure of the dogs. For me there was no exit or entrance, it was all a game of turns with the smell of fresh grass.

When hunger struck, we sat on the terrace of a small restaurant, just on the way to the cathedral. I strategically placed myself under the table, waiting for some crumb from heaven.

Later we took a quiet walk along the River Lee, which meanders between the buildings as if playing hide-and-seek. But the sky decided to mess with us: it started to rain. Papi Edu, who has the soul of a medieval knight, took me in his arms and put me under the umbrella. I was like a king, with my little paws hanging, while the humans got wetter than me. I confess that I felt like the emperor of Cork at that moment.

At five in the afternoon we got into the car and took the M8 highway north. We stopped at a Circle K station because papi Edu and tito Joan wanted to take a shower. But the employee told us that the shower didn't work. Lie! I smelled it from the outside: that place had a shower, what it didn't have was the desire to let it be used. In the end we only refueled diesel and water.

Before arriving in Cahir we found a great place to sleep: Scaragh Woods. The place has only one review on Park4Night and with two stars, but we thought the opposite. A quiet forest, with a good look and plenty of space for our camper. Others might have seen it boring, but for me it was perfect.

The rain doesn't stop, it hits the roof of the camper as if it wanted to come in to have dinner with us. But I snuggle in my corner, listening to that wet drumming, happy to have lived a day of city, history and nature.

This is how we closed the day: soaked in rain, yes, but also in new adventures.