Back in 1607, the Irish Earls fled to Leuven, then part of the Spanish Netherlands, a mere 25 kilometres from Brussels. Stripped of their estates, titles and influence, they presumably sought sanctuary, stability and, one imagines, a welcome supply of decent beer.
Four centuries later, more than thirty of their spiritual descendants, otherwise known as the CACE running club, made the journey in the opposite direction, bound for the Ecotrail in Ireland. We had return tickets and the distinct advantage of not being pursued by the English crown. The race offered 10km, 19km, 30km, 46km and 80km distances, and we had Earls in nearly all of them.
Friday: Arrival of the Court in Dún Laoghaire
Our temporary estate was the Royal Marine Hotel in Dún Laoghaire (pronounced « Dun Leery »). Our German speaking members, who believe every written letter has a solemn duty to be pronounced, took it personally that the Irish spell it with twelve letters and then use about five. Our Irish members seemed perfectly comfortable with the arrangement treating spelling less as a guide to pronunciation and more as a decorative instrument.
The hotel itself was suitably grand, having reputedly hosted Queen Victoria, Frank Sinatra and Michael Collins, the Irish revolutionary leader, who is said to have hidden in Room 210 while the British searched the country for him.
On Friday afternoon we strolled the pier past the statue of Roger Casement, an Irish political activist, and then hopped on the DART (Dublin Area Rapid Transport) to Dalkey for a wander past the houses where Bono and Enya live. After that it was out to Bray to pick up our race packs, back to the hotel for dinner, and an early night — for most of us.
Saturday: Race day and the tricky Business of Scrambling over Irish Mountains
Race morning brought the usual mix of nerves and questionable decisions. We opted for porridge instead of Queen Victoria’s legendary sixteen-course breakfast.
The course was a decidedly un-Balmoral excursion: a precipitous ascent to the cross on Bray Head, rocky ridges above the Sugarloaves, then along the Wicklow Way past Powerscourt Waterfall and the dark waters of Lough Tay, with some 2,600 metres of climbing for the 80km runners.
Our Belgian battalion may have felt a certain familiarity; Great Sugarloaf being resembling in shape the Lion’s Mound at Waterloo – just 10 times bigger.
On the trails, the Earls did us proud. Sam claimed a regal silver in the 10km. Charlotte also contested the 10km, despite still carrying an injury from a 100km plus trail race some weeks previously. Lesser members of the Court might have stayed in bed.
In the 19km, Enda and Bertil produced stupendous times, and Nathalie finished 1st in her category. Stefan finished 4th in M60 on the 19km – just a whisker away from a podium place.
Sebastian delivered a majestic performance over 30km, quickly followed by Jesper, Nils and Niall in that order. Angelo was flying and heading for a brilliant result until he took a wrong turn on the mountain. We are informed that his inertial navigation system was at fault. In Angelo’s defence, Irish trails have been confusing invaders for centuries.
Róisín and Marie also had excellent 30km races (both times unfortunately not officially recorded denying Marie an age-grade podium). Bjorn and Johan took on the full 80km, a feat that deserves its own paragraph. Truly oat-standing performances. Another big shout-out is for Edina – the only CACE runner to take on the 46km and who sailed around the course despite a bad knee injury.
The CACE ‘loyalty Gold card’ goes to Bert, who has been at every CACE trip since the first one to the Connemarathon in 2004 and who ran the 19km in Wicklow as M60. Thanks also to Tom and Jill, our favourite supporters, whose loud and enthusiastic cheering along the course kept the runners going and the rest of the mountain awake. Thanks also to Tom for minding the CACE flag so well – most of the time and for recovering it when it lost itself.
Sunday: The Sovereign Dublin Realm
After the traditional morning run and gym session led by Bert, a cold swim in the sea for the most courageous, and a 30-minute wait for the DART (so much for Rapid!), we reached Dublin city centre. We started at Trinity College, admiring the architecture and the Book of Kells, a 1,200-year-old illuminated manuscript. We also heard the student legend that an ancient, never repealed rule entitling a Trinity Scholar to demand a glass of sherry mid-exam.
We then walked along the quays past the Jeanie Johnston, the replica famine ship, and stopped for a group photo before heading to EPIC, the Irish Emigration Museum. There we learned more about the millions who left Ireland, particularly during the Great Famine, and how far Irish culture and influence travelled around the world.
The museum also celebrates Ireland’s remarkable writers and poets, and an old saying captures the relationship nicely: « The English gave the Irish the English language, and the Irish taught the English how to use it. »
Enda doubled as our unofficial historian, giving stirring recitals at the famine sculptures and the GPO, with a knowledge of the city that rivalled any Dubliner’s.
We crossed the Ha’penny Bridge and did our duty with a few pints of Guinness. As the old line goes, a pint of plain is your only man.
A Royal Thank You
Thanks to our organisers, Stassi, Stefan, Jesper, Niall and Enda, for assembling a record turnout to Ireland, and a warm welcome to our new members Elena, Laura, Ville and Bercan.
Unlike the original Earls, their spiritual descendants did not depart into permanent exile. We returned to Brussels with sore legs, tall tales and plans for next year!
Bercan
Maith thú a Bercan!