Took the train to Cobh today, a small city on the water of Cork Harbour. The train station terminates practically inside the port, or Deep Water Quay as it is called. Just outside the train station at the head of the port, is a statue of Annie Moore and her brothers, the first person to have emigrated to America through Ellis Island. Within moments of stepping off the train, the character of Cobh, formerly Queenstown, began to colour itself. Some fishing boats and military ship lined the docks, berthed in a quay deep enough to harbour cruise ships. One of those mammoth vessels was departing the bay as I arrived. Meng and I headed east, along the coast, to the Promenade, known locally as the Prom. This seaside park contains a gazebo dedicated to President John F. Kennedy. On either side of the gazebo are large cannons, pointed to sea, captured from the Russian Army during the Crimean War and presented to the people of Queenstown by a Captain of a troop transport ship named the "Himalaya". These were not the only guns I would see today. The Promenade also featured a sculpture of a man holding a paper boat in his hands above a basin of water, titled "The Navigator". With Cork Harbour expanding in front of me, I turned to see St. Colman's Cathedral towering over the city, rising high above all of the visible skyline. Presently, we continued along the coast, arriving at the clock tower, which was marked on the map, but was rather unimpressive. In fact, it had been converted into Wan Fu Chinese Restaurant. Journeying up, into the hilly city, we ventured toward the gothic spires. Happening upon a dominating facade that took up three city blocks, I began the ascent up the many stairs that brought me closer to the ground level of the cathedral. The impressive architecture loomed overhead, saints carved into the window adornments, images of Christ looking upon the city from the peak of the towers, and crosses spanning all visible faces of the structure. There was even the odd flying buttress or two. The railings surrounding the church grounds were in the process of being repainted by city workers, a mark of Cobh's dedication to preserving its historic past. The wall fortifying the ascent to St. Colman's had its foundation stone laid in 1868, being completed by 1916. The cathedral itself began construction in 1868 as well, being consecrated in 1915. St. Colman's has a carillon sporting 49 bells. The inside of the cathedral was breathtaking, not only in scale and grandeur, but in the complexity of each engraving, each chiseled image, and impossibly detailed stained glass. To think that such a massive project was undertaken and completed with the relatively limited technology of the time begs one to consider what modern day feats may compare to this feat of engineering.
After the beauty of the cathedral, we ventured outside and a few streets west to reach the high end of West View street, an iconic view of 23 Victorian style houses, all different colours, sometimes referred to as "The Deck of Cards". The road is steeply inclined, meaning that each individual house is built on a different elevation. At the base of West View street, we stopped at the public library, a very small, one-room library, that, perhaps unsurprisingly, featured many books about the Titanic. The Library is inside of the Market House, built around 1806 for the Fota Estate, whose crest the building bears. It currently houses the Library and the District Court. In the middle of the courtyard formed by the Market House and the street that runs through it then splits in two lies a memorial for those who perished in the sinking of the RMS Lusitania in 1915. The memorial contains an angel looking down upon two shiphands, expressions of agony on their faces. A single rose laced with red ribbon lay at the foot of one of the sailors.
We headed back in the direction of train station, passing a pub called Trade Winds. There was a grease pencil drawing in the window of the Titanic with St. Patrick himself standing at the helm, shooting a green and orange magic laser beam at the iceberg that doomed the ship. A little ways down the street was a massive propeller from a 1987 shipwreck, and it began to be apparent that this little port town has known its fair share of shipwrecks.
We ascended the street from the train station up towards the Cobh museum, which was closed, and then up a staircase that reaches into the uppermost parts of the city. They are known as "The Burma Steps", christened by British soldiers who had served abroad that used the stairs to return to barracks in the city. At the top of the stairs, while expecting a bench or a park, we were instead greeted by a simple two-lane road, and very nice houses overlooking the bay and islands. It felt like I had stumbled into the real Cobh, away from the tourist-laden attractions. After a bit of walking through residential streets, we wound up back at West View street, and descended once more. At this point, I did something I've never done before. There was a public toilet on the street, a large black-metal contraption, in which you put coins, and a Star Trek inspired sliding door whooshes open to reveal a tidy water closet. I was quite desperately in need of facilities, and I must say, the entertainment was worth the 25 Euro cent. The bathroom even featured a sink that released soap, then water, then finally activated a hand dryer, all in the same space, in an attempt to automate hand washing. I won't comment on its success. At this point, we headed over to meet up with Alex and Julia, who had just arrived at the train station.
Our group headed to the nearby docks to take a boat tour of Spike Island, a small island in Cork Harbour with an interesting history. To get there, a group of about 20 of us got into a small sea-going craft and made the 15 minute journey around the width of the harbour to Spike Island. The boat ride provided the opportunity for some really amazing photos of the city of Cobh. We landed on a pier littered with empty shells dropped by the circling birds. Our tour guide, who I would later find to be Dr. Michael Martin, began to explain that there are parts of Spike Island that showcase every significant period of Irish history. He began by explaining that there had been a monastery established in 635 AD, part of the ruins still standing today. The island itself was gifted to the monks as a member of their order, a healing man, reportedly cured the King of Munster of a host of ailments, including a broken leg, a broken arm, one blind eye, and one deaf ear. Later, in 1903, Nellie Organ was born to her soldier father and mother who lived in the barracks on Spike Island. The house where she was born stands in relatively good condition, just inland from the beaches. Her family immediately noticed something unique about the girl, who was highly devout and often talked of religious matters, despite her very young age. She became something of a local celebrity in Cork, and people, including Nellie herself, eventually begged the bishop to allow her to receive her Communion early. She had her Communion at 4, and sadly died before 5, but people today continue to travel to her grave in Cobh as a kind of pilgrimage. She never was canonized, but Pope Pius X amended the age for Holy Communion from 14 to 7, being moved after hearing the story of "Little Nellie of God". After walking past Nellie's house, we moved furthur into the small island, ascending its height. A ways out from the fort, we stopped once again, where it was explained that Vikings had sacked the city in 1022, but later built a city that co-existed with the monastic city. In 1199 there was a Norman conquest of the island. From that initial conquest, the British presence remained on the island until 1938, when the very last groups of British soldiers moved from the island, under the terms of the Anglo-Irish Treaty that ended the War of Independence. During the war, the island had been used as a prison, holding some 500 people. It had been used as a prison once before that, during the Great Famine from 1845 to 1852. The prisoners were mostly citizens of Cork, who had committed no other crime than hunting rabbits or squirrels in a desperate attempt at survival, convicted as poachers by the courts. In fact, court cases during this time quadrupled. In June of 1847, some 2.500 people were held on the island, with over 60% convicted for stealing food. The conditions in the prison were so poor that dozens of people died a day, being buried in shallow graves on the southern side of the island. At this point, Dr. Martin revealed that he had written a book about the history of the island, looking into things that had never been explored previously. About a third of the island is taken up by a massive star-shaped fortress, named Fort Westmoreland by the British. The large fort was not always as reinforced as it is in the present day. After the 1776 American War of Independence, the British feared a trans-atlantic invasion, and sought to fortify their western seaboard. Spike Island is strategically located right in the center of Cork Harbour, allowing for widespread defense. In fact, it was said by many, including Dr. Martin, who served in the Navy, to be virtually impenetrable by marine invasion. After the war of independence, the Irish renamed the fort to Fort Mitchel, after John Mitchel, a leader in the Young Irelander movement that was involved with the struggle for independence. The island had one more period as a place of incarceration, when it was fitted to serve as a modern prison from 1984 to 2004. There were plans to convert the island into a much larger prison, but Dr. Martin led a group that lobbied to preserve the history of the island, and restore it to some of its former glory. His group has done just that, and uses the proceeds from the tours he puts on to help with restoration and upkeep of the island. At this point, we had a little break, when I asked Dr. Martin what had interested him so much about Spike Island. He said that he had grown up in Cork, and had always been interested in the island, and when he got to graduate school, he asked his advisor if he could complete his thesis on the island. His advisor told him that it couldn't be done as there was simply not enough literature. This only encouraged him further, and through a lot of digging and work, he was able to complete his thesis, and write his book, which is basically the only historical account of the island. The tour of the island finished with a look into one of the gun bunkers, which housed a six inch gun aimed directly at the mouth of the port. The gun was outfitted with a hydraulic system to fire the six-inch-in-diameter shells, but when this failed, the crewman could always resort to the backup system - "hand"draulics.
After making landfall again on the docks, we headed next door to the Titanic Experience, one of the main reasons for tourism in Cobh. It just so happened that the Titanic had set sail from Queenstown (now named Cobh) in 1912, making this the 100-year anniversary of its departure. The museum began by presenting you with a boarding ticket, listing a passenger's name, age, and class. Both Meng and I were in third class, or steerage, which, despite being the cheapest and least outfitted class, was considered luxurious compared to other fleets at the time. Each room in third class had running water, something unheard of at the time. The museum, or experience, as they like to call it, was on the cheesy side, having you follow a projected image of a captain onboard the ship as he showed you through the various rooms, and then a short video about the actual sinking. The highlight of the tour came sometime in the middle, when you were brought outside, and realized that this was the actual White Star Line Ticketing Office, and all of the passengers who boarded the massive ship 100 years before had stood on the same platform upon which you were now standing, and had received their tickets from the same red-brick arched windows that you did. Standing outside on what was the platform so long ago, the tour points out a dock, mostly destroyed now, that was the original dock used to board vessels that brought passengers to the Titanic. The tour ended in a museum of sorts, with limited exhibits, but another cool feature was that you got to look up your passenger's name at the end, and see if you survived. Both Meng and I survived the shipwreck.
We finished the day with dinner at Trade Winds, observing the quirky window art from the other side. I had a seafood-filled bowl of chowder, before we caught the train back home.
