At home with Great-great-great-grandpa

How many good things could we squeeze into one day? After checking out Armagh, we drove through the green countryside to reach County Fermanagh, the other ancestral home of my Hamilton relatives. Fermanagh is split by a large lake, Lough Erne.

Eniskellin, the county seat, is a resort in the Irish lake country.

We stopped to search for information about the whereabouts of Pharmagh, the tiny town in Fermanagh where my great-great-great grandfather was born in 1790. Even though we couldn't find that town, we felt close to him throughout the county where he had lived.

We stopped at the Sheelin Lace Shop and Museum nearby. During the Irish potato famine of 1845-1850, lace-making schools were established in Fermanagh so poor women would have something to sell to feed their families. The owner of the shop now travels all over Ireland, buying up antique lace for resale.

We stopped at the bakery next door for a fresh raspberry scone.

Next stop was the Belleek Pottery Factory, also in Fermanagh County.

When Dave and I were married, we received a Belleek vase in the shape of a tree trunk as a wedding gift, and we loved it until it finally broke.

We were delighted to find a whole showroom full of Belleek pieces, which seem so very Irish.

We then drove north, through the remote and beautiful Sperrin Mountains.

Our goal was the Giant's Causeway on the northern beaches of Northern Ireland. It was nearly dark as we hiked the trail along the beach. We could see the spectacular cliffs and breakers...

but not the odd rock formations.

As I tell our world-wandering Michael, "You have to leave something unseen, wherever you go, so you have some reason to come back."

King of the Road

It was the smallest car we ever rented--a tiny blue Fiat from Dan Dooley Car Rentals at the Dublin Airport.

But it caused more trouble than any rental car we've ever had. Dave was working through his adjustment period to driving on the wrong side of the road, with his usual blind spot--getting too close to obstructions on the passenger's side of the car. I ducked as we skimmed within an inch of buses and stone walls. The car survived intact until we were on the outskirts of Armagh, the city and county in Northern Ireland where my Hamilton ancestors come from. Dave hit a curb, careened off the road, blew the tires, and bent two wheels. We patched the tire but had to drive back to Dublin for a spare. Another day or two, and Dave drove like Dan Dooley himself.

We were delighted that Armagh, my ancestral home, is a place of substance. It is still the ecclesiastic center of Ireland, as the city where St. Patrick established his Irish church in the early 400s.

We checked out St. Patrick's Catholic cathedral and the Anglican cathedral...

a rural cemetery with its Celtic crosses...

and the rolling countryside.

We ate supper at Lonely Planet's top-rated restaurant, the Uluru. We chose fish, but there were also "exotic meats" on the menu--ostrich, crocodile.

So many Irish have immigrated that there are many Irish genealogical resources, both online and on the ground. We found three towns near Armagh with names that included "Hamilton."

Confession: I lost my camera in Dingle, 8 days into our trip, with 520 photos on its chip. Most photos here are from Google Images. I just had to tell our story, with or without genuine photos!