We’re taking a break from Dublin, at least in this post, to recall our first trip to Ireland. We were here because I was playing in the World Handball Championships, held in Kilkenny. But the highlight of the day wasn’t Kilkenny. It turned out to be the road to Coolboy.
The tournament that year was unique. In order to accommodate the 1,000+ players, matches would be held in Kilkenny, but also in handball courts all over County Kilkenny and beyond. For my first match, I’d have to find my way to a village called “Coolboy,” in County Wicklow. Alright then. Coolboy it is!
Based on the driving directions provided, it sounded like getting to Coolboy might be a bit of a challenge. The directions were as follows:
“From Kilkenny, take the N10 and the N9 to Carlow. Then take the R725 to Tullow, and then to Shillelagh. Need to ask for directions in Shillelagh.”
Are you kidding me? Drive for forty miles and then ask for directions? Wow. We thought it might be a good idea to get an early start, which is what we did.
The N10 and N9 from Kilkenny to Carlow were major highways. Piece of cake so far. Just a drive out in the country. The R725 was a smaller road, but still well-marked. We were getting pretty far out in the boonies, but we were sure we were on the right road.
Country Roads, Take Me To Coolboy…
A nice thing about driving on country roads was that they’re a good place to get used to driving on the wrong side of the road. Traffic was light. We could just cruise along. If, without thinking, I made a left-hand turn and naturally went over to the right-hand side of the new road, it wasn’t a problem. My constantly-aware Better Half/Navigator would immediately tell me I was driving on the WRONG wrong side of the road.
The scenery along the way had been absolutely beautiful. Cows and sheep grazed on emerald-green hillsides. Ancient-looking stone walls divided the landscape into a patchwork of rectangles.
We found our way to Tullow. After Tullow, the road narrowed another wee bit. It got pretty “windy,” too. Not “windy” like the wind blows, but “windy” like it was a serpent.
The road narrowed even further and we found ourselves engulfed in a forest of greenery. I bet it’d be spooky driving way out here late at night. There’d probably be leprechauns poking their heads out from behind the hedges, their eyes twinkling in the headlights!
Next Milestone – Shillelagh
We followed the signs to Shillelagh. So far, so good. It was time to ask for directions. We stopped at a little market. I went in to ask directions to the handball courts in Coolboy. I half-expected the guy to say, “Handball courts? Way out here in the country? Sorry laddie. Someone’s been pullin’ yer leg.”
Nope. He knew exactly where they were and how to get there. After a brief conversation, he gave us directions. He took extra care to make sure we knew where to go. Our conversation was reassuring. Maybe there really were handball courts out here somewhere.
Sure enough, after going another five miles down the road and making a turn or two, we found ourselves in front of it: “Coolboy Handball and Sports Center.” It was a single building consisting of two excellent courts, a small locker room, and a few other rooms.
Coolboy
Some of the local players were there to greet us and get us settled in. They treated us like we were royalty. The courts were in better shape than the courts I play on back home. Way out here at the end of all those roads winding through the countryside. Kind of unbelievable.
I met a few other players in the tournament who played their matches in Coolboy that day. They were Irish guys who were fun to talk to. A little later I met my opponent. He didn’t have a trace of an Irish accent. It turns out that I’d come all this way to play against a guy from – Montana. We had a good match. I got the best of him, so we’d get to make another road trip tomorrow.
We enjoyed the drive back to Kilkenny. It was great to have the first-round jitters behind me and a win under my belt. Driving back through that beautiful countryside without worrying about getting lost was nice, too.
Tomorrow – A place called Ballymore Eustace.
To be continued…
Super piece of writing. That village of Coolboy is where I grew up. It was magical and still is
My mother’s grandfather, Thomas Keefe, was from Coolboy. Mom was Patricia Margaret Keefe–both her Wicklow grandfathers were Patricks, Lord Fitzwilliam’s tenants and so emigrants to Canada.
https://jimgregory52.wordpress.com/2014/07/22/to-the-girl-on-the-lawn-at-cal/
I was busy. I had a lot I wanted to get done in a short time. But I saw your comment and I clicked on the link to the video. It stopped me dead in my tracks. I watched the whole thing. It’s awesome. So well done. It’s perfect. I loved it. And guess what? My mom’s name was Roberta. I will check out your blog soon. Gotta get back to whatever was so important, if I can remember what is was now. You got to me! Thank you!
Thank you for this. My mother’s ancestors, Keefes–she was named Patricia, after two grandfathers named Patrick–were from Coolboy.
https://youtu.be/YpQoP0EDPPY