Carrick-on-Shannon

Well, Eric Raptosh and crew are finally here in Carrick-On-Shannon, Ireland, after two full days of uncomfortable airplane seats and over-salted peanuts. Our hosts, the Reynolds family, have graciously welcomed us into their home, the Old Rectory, which was built in 1805 and still stands two stories composed of the same stones. The Reynolds’ pony, Slowy, has worn a perfect circle of bare dirt in the front yard. Our guest house is in the backyard, overlooking a very bouncy trampoline and colorful graffiti paneling.

This morning Dave’s mom, Bernie, cooked a traditional Irish dish called “boxty”—a potato, flour, and water mixture that’s deep fried, and is wonderfully tasteful in its simplicity. After breakfast (which so far we’ve been eating between noon and one thanks to jet lag), we all headed down to the Boyle River to go bridge jumping. Eric turned this adventure into a photoshoot by convincing James and his college friends to wear wrestling masks and jump together in synchrony. The four stooges agreed all too eagerly, pretending to be Mexican wrestlers swimming across the border. In most of the photos they look like a hardcore boy band, equipped with British fortified wine and Duff beer.

After Mexican wrestler bridge jumping, Dave showed us two abandoned castles that looked like a hybrid between Fern Gully and William Henry Hudson’s Green Mansions. We explored the area despite a prominently posted “danger: keep out” sign and after a few hours of shooting came home to homemade scones and barbequed pork and sausages.

Overall, the Irish people have been unbelievably gracious, giving us directions when we’re lost, food when we’re hungry, and cooperating even when we ask them to go jump off a bridge—topless with bandit masks and blue dreadlocks, nonetheless.