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our "short" two-hour visit.

Their house, or "typical Irish cottage" as Cathal put it, was the most filthy, smelly, and overall disgusting home I had ever been in. I timidly sat next to Charlie (where he ordered me to sit) as Sally went off to make some tea. She came back with, surprisingly, very delicious and clean looking sandwiches. Had she just made these? Were they from the store? I didn't know and didn't care as it was 5:00 and the last thing I had eaten was breakfast at 9:00 and had just climbed up and down a three-mile high mountain. I started wolfing them down as Charlie kept ordering me to eat (and I did whatever Charlie told me to do).

We chatted with Sally until Herbert arrived. He was a large man, possibly of German
descent (I couldn't place the accent), resembling Santa Claus and a bit less scary than Sally. As we ate our sandwiches and drank our tea, I listened to Charlie recount the most alarming sequence of events. Charlie had recently been arrested because a taxi driver saw a bomb fall out of his pocket and then a building had been burned soon after. So Charlie was awaiting a trial where he was being charged for arson and could get ten years to life in prison. How he was free to climb the Reek with no police escorts, I have no clue. That's the extremely brief version of a long story that obviously everyone present knew everything about except for me. So I sat there for two hours as Charlie told that story over and over while Sally kept interjecting with "fookin eejits" (this is also what she called the three of us when we told her we had just climbed the Reek).

We finally left that awful home and Charlie and Cathal dropped me off at the Octagon in the center of town after I gave them my address in the U.S. and asked them to let me know how everything turned out for them. They told me they'd write, and to bring my mom back to meet them when she was here, as they were sure that she was "just as lovely and tough as I was".

I thought about Charlie and Cathal during the next two months I was in Ireland. Every time I did something a little risky, or met a character in a pub, I thought of them and my first brush with adventure on my trip. After I returned to the U.S., normalcy, and unrisky behavior, they became a distant memory until I received a Christmas card in the mail from Charlie. He wrote:

"Dear Erin,

This is to wish you and your family a happy and peaceful Christmas. I hope you are well as I am. My situation' is A O.K. now thank God. Cathal, my friend, is very ill and I hope you will remember him in your prayers. I intend soon to return and climb Croagh Patrick by way of Thanksgiving, so I will keep an eye out for you! Love from Charles M."

I haven't heard from Charlie recently, but every time someone asks about my adventures in Ireland, I get to tell his story.

Learn more about this author, Erin Palmer.
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