Bray Watch

It is said that Irish winters start in August and end in June. And sure enough, in July summer came with a vengeance. A two-week heat wave had gifted the ethereal Gaelic complexion with a disconcerting tan. As a first generation Irish lass who has spent the past two decades assiduously avoiding the Los Angeles sun, I felt instantly transported back to Southern California. The face of the country had been transformed into Malibu, right down to wild brush fires.

No matter. By the time I arrived in Bray, one of Ireland’s oldest seaside resorts, conditions had righted themselves. As the Irish say, “When you can see the mountain, it’s going to rain. When you cannot, it’s raining.”

I could still see the mountains, but the rain clouds were rolling in behind. The effect was spectacular. Bray Head mountain to the south and the village of Killiney to the north flank the town of Bray and its waterfront--a graceful crescent of sea that has been compared to the Bay of Naples. Bray’s famous boardwalk, which reminds me of a 1950s Coney Island, is part of its quirky charm. And much of the Victorian character of the original town is still evident in the promenade and in the houses facing the seafront.

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Little has changed here in 100 years. In the 19th century, Bray was an elegant seaside resort for the wealthy. Between World Wars I and II, the area’s luster dimmed and its noble Victorian mansions were converted to boarding houses. The resort subsequently became a holiday destination for the working class.

Since the 1970s, the town of Bray has been enjoying a well-deserved rebirth and buildings are being restored along the boardwalk. By the electric commuter train that runs along the coast, it’s a mere 40 minutes south of Dublin.

In years of haunting my ancestral habitat, I’ve barreled through Ballycotton, coached through counties Cork and Kerry with countless other tour buses, driven the Dingle. I didn’t want to do it again . . . the driving, I mean.

But this is the land of cead mile failte (Gaelic for a thousand welcomes), and being Irish and by nature masochistic but forever optimistic, I found myself again, last summer, in the country of the Celts, this time with a firm resolve to travel only by public transportation, though my traveling companion balked right off the bat at hopping the commuter bus from the airport into Dublin.

From there we would wend our way to Wicklow County, renowned as the garden of Ireland and home to what has been hailed as one of the country’s most beautiful and varied walking trails. It is called, appropriately enough, Wicklow Way, and wanders south from Dublin’s Marley Park through the Wicklow Mountains to the village of Clonegal, about 80 miles south. We would try it later, we wisely decided, at least part way.

The train, called the Dart, did not live up to its name. Instead it chugged along and allowed us time to enjoy the lovely Irish Sea and its charming coastal towns. I wanted to stop at every one.

The advantage of public transportation is that you meet people. Nice people who want to make you feel at home. We were invited to no fewer than three barbecues, and reluctantly turned down generous offers to show us around. (The Irish are very proud of their landmarks and love nothing more than to proffer history lessons over a pint in a pub). But I was determined to follow my own way this time, and after initial misgivings, the misty Ireland of my dreams proved to be easily reached by public transportation.

After a short walk from the station, past a good variety of lodgings, we dropped our bags at a pretty B&B; on the beach called the Strand House. (If it’s booked, try the Brays Head Inn at the very end of the esplanade: a funky, musty white elephant of a place with a certain charm.) Our hosts, Michael and Maeve O’Laughlin, offered us a fresh pot of tea and brown soda bread biscuits with homemade jam, after which we were ready for any sightseeing suggestions they had to offer.

From Bray, a double-decker bus took us on a 15-minute ride northwest to the delightful village of Enniskerry and one of the loveliest settings in Ireland: Powerscourt House and gardens. In 1730s the Wingfield family, which was earlier granted the land by King James I, commissioned the house and gardens that are seen today.

Although the main block of this Palladian-style manor was gutted by fire in 1974, the gardens, among the finest in Europe, live on in grand style amid lakes and lawns and sparkling fountains. Italian, French, English and Japanese design styles are all represented, laid out like a banquet for the eyes. About a 30-minute walk away was the wondrous Powerscourt Waterfall, at 430 feet the highest in Ireland. From here one can pick up Wicklow Way and walk for 80 miles. We didn’t.

The next morning we boarded the St. Kevin’s bus across from Bray’s Town Hall. It deposited us an hour later in the spectacular valley to the south. There we saw Glendalough, a monastery and settlement founded by the 6th century monk, St. Kevin. Exploring the well-preserved ruin, with its massive lookout tower reaching to the sky, its church and stone crosses and overgrown cemetery, I had a sense of the peace and serenity that has drawn pilgrims here for centuries. I, too, felt the presence of angels, and on reading inscriptions on some of the headstones, discovered entire families who had perished together during the great famine of the 1800s.

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The St. Kevin’s bus returned for us at 5:30, precisely on schedule. By the time we returned to Bray I felt full of energy, ready for more adventure. My fellow explorer was drained and ready for a nap, so I left him to his dreams at the Strand House and set off down the promenade for what would become a high point of the week: a solidary hike south along the Irish Sea on the Cliff Walk, an experience so special that--like a meditation--I felt compelled to do it every day from then on.

The Cliff Walk begins at the Bray Head Inn and meanders four miles south along the coast to the fishing village of Greystones. Carved into the verdant bluffs that plunge dramatically into the Irish Sea, the trail is well maintained and safe for any age.

Huge hawks soared overhead, while fat gulls fought for closer perches just in case I’d brought a picnic. I followed the trail, Dorothy on the road to Oz, engulfed by a fragrant sea of snowy hawthorn and fuchsia. Below, the train to Rosslare Harbour rumbled into one of many tunnels artfully carved from the cliff side, while out at sea a regatta of small sailboats raced me to my destination. We all arrived at Greystones about the same time.

The town is quite charming and aptly named for the local stone. But I was starving again and on a recommendation from the sailors, I sat down for an early bite at a table in the somewhat formal Hungry Monk restaurant. I worried that the proprietor would look askance at my well-traveled wardrobe, but Pat was pleased to welcome a Cliff Walker, knowing I’d have a good appetite. The food was plentiful and fresh. Wild duck with juniper was delectable, though a tad chewy. I enjoyed the food, even knowing that I’d have to hike back to work it all off since there wasn’t a Sports Connection for a few thousand miles.

Two hours later, thighs screaming, I nudged my companion out of his coma. (His idea of a holiday is sleep, interrupted occasionally by something edible.) I didn’t mention my lovely meal at the Monk; I was afraid he might want to walk back, and I knew I could only make it to the place next door. It looked Greek.

The restaurant, called the Tree of Idleness, turned out to be anything but; it’s the most popular place in Bray. And it isn’t Greek, as the proprietress, Susan Courtellas, explained. Cypriot cuisine is Mediterranean, and Susan has mixed it up with Irish fare to create dishes such as saddle of Wicklow lamb stuffed with feta cheese and olives. Save room for the outrageous dessert trolley. I could only sample, since in one day I’d consumed more calories than I do in a week at home.

The next morning, Michael O’Laughlin offered us fried eggs and sausage and blood pudding, while I silently yearned for a grapefruit. After breakfast we waddled up the esplanade to watch 700 species of marine life cavorting in the splendid National Aquarium, then wandered into the village of Bray, where the Morris Dancers, a local troupe, were performing Irish jigs in the town square. I tried a few steps remembered from childhood and was immediately asked by all to stop making a fool of myself. I had to be consoled with cappuccino at Escape, a psychedelic ‘60s-style coffeehouse that specializes in exotic vegetarian creations. We could have been in the commune scene from the film “Easy Rider.” The patrons were dressed in tie-dyed garb and sounded like hippies with brogues, although I’m told the restaurant is more formal in the evening.

Speaking of movies, Ardmore Studios and surrounding areas where parts of the film “Braveheart” were shot, is a short walk from town, and the lads who work there were happy to show us around, even though we didn’t contact them in advance. (It is, of course, better to do so.) U2’s Bono, a homeboy from Bray, also lives here by the sea, not too far from the Killiney Court Hotel, an enormous Victorian gingerbread confection that belongs in a Merchant Ivory production.

We took tea and sherry that afternoon at the Court Hotel and reserved for the next night. My sidekick spied golf clubs in the lobby. Bono coincidentally had a club opening that night in Dublin. We got invited, went and drank just a tad too much of, yes, Irish whiskey. It was Jameson, as I recall, that slid down like liquid fire with a flavor. We followed that with a bit of Old Bushmills Irish coffee at the Raven, one of Dublin’s oldest pubs.

We checked out of the Court Hotel after a couple of lovely days. Rooms are comfortable, the restaurant is wonderful (I had salmon again), but my partner had been developing palpitations from all the weddings being performed on the rolling lawn, thinking I might be getting ideas.

So we boarded the Dart north to the village of Dalkey, the next stop. We checked into the Dalkey Island Hotel, a short walk from the station past beautiful oceanfront villas. The hotel is an elegant Georgian style building with a bird’s-eye view of Dalkey Island, a hot spot for bird-watching. The bay and its marshes host a staggering variety of birds, among them golden plovers, herons, kingfishers and oystercatchers. Come winter, the marshes are swamped with migratory geese, swans and ducks.

The village of Dalkey is what California’s Carmel might have been like before it became more famous for Clint Eastwood’s residency than for its coastline. The word quaint springs to mind, but Dalkey also has celebrities. George Bernard Shaw lived here. And it’s not unusual to find Rod Stewart in the Queens Bar. Assorted other stars have hung around. Sadly, the rest of Hollywood may not be far behind, so come soon, before an American movie star decides to run for mayor.

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GUIDEBOOK: Bray’s Heart

Getting there: Delta flies direct to Dublin, with one change of planes. Aer Lingus flies nonstop from New York’s Kennedy airport daily. Advance purchase, non-refundable fares start at about $1,000 from New York.

Getting around: DART (Dublin Area Rapid Transit) serves Dublin and all stations between Howth (Northern end of line) and Bray, every 10 minutes for less than $2.

Where to stay: Bray Head Inn, Strand Road, Bray; from the United States, telephone 011-353-1286- 3938; about $35 per person, including breakfast.

Dalkey Island Hotel, Coliemore Harbor, Dalkey; tel. 011-353-1285- 0377; $70 per person, including breakfast.

Glendalough Hotel, Glendalough; tel. 011-353-4044-5135; $60 per person, including breakfast.

Killiney Court Hotel, Killiney Bay; tel. 011-353-1285-1622; $100 per person, including breakfast.

Strand House, Strand Road, Bray; tel. 011-353-1286-8920, $30 per person, including breakfast.

Where to eat: Escape, 1 Albert Walk, Bray; open noon to 10:30 p.m. Dinner for two about $25, bring own wine or beer; local phone 286-6755.

Hungry Monk, South View, Church Road, Greystones; tel. 287-5759. Dinner for two with wine about $50 to $60.

National Aquarium, Bray Esplanade, about $3.

Tree of Idleness, Strand Road, Bray; tel. 286-3498. Dinner for two with wine about $75.

Queens Bar, 12 Castle St., Dalkey; tel. 285-4569. Dinner for two about $40.

For more information: Irish Tourist Board, 345 Park Ave., 17th floor, New York, NY 10154; tel. (800) 223-6470 or (212) 418-0800, fax (212) 371-9052.

Glendalough Visitors Center, Glendalough; tel. 4044-5325.

--C.O.