19. Listowel

Go to title page Go to previous page Go to next page Go to last page

When we crossed the bridge into Listowel, we turned right into a riverside park for a late picnic lunch, and then lay there in the sun.

Then a volunteer (someone had to do it), cycled about the town looking for a B&B. Mrs O'Keefe had said it would be difficult, and so it was. We all met up in the town square to consider our options. I recollected seeing a B&B on the N69 a mile or two outside the town. Reluctantly we set off to try that, when we passed the sign for Gurtenard House, and there we stayed (Eu. 30).

We were actually in an annexe, and it was just a bit on the ramshackle side, but it was a short walk from the town square, and quiet, so it was grand.

An old local enjoys his pint.

Listowel was gearing up for its Writers' Festival the following week. There were displays of books in many of the shop windows - even the butcher's.

During our trip we saw very few cyclists. There was the occasional local going to or from the nearest shop, and three men on road bikes in Tarbert, but we only saw two other tourers, and they were shopping in the main square in Listowel. Drivers were unused to cyclists. While not actually aggressive, they made few allowances, and were prepared to speed past leaving little wobble-room.

The spire in the town square.

The point of an old castle is that it is old. Listowel Castle has been so restored that it could have been put up yesterday.

In the morning we had breakfast at a grand mahogany table in the large, 14-foot-high dining room of Gurtenard House. The house, with its mahogany table, is for sale.

The River Feale in Listowel.

Listowel is as full of colour as most Irish towns.

Outside one of the many bars.

River, spires, and castle.

Listowel Racecourse.


19. Listowel

Go to title page Go to previous page Go to next page Go to last page