Irish tour guide tells a Choctaw Nation story, unbeknownst that the great-grandson of a Choctaw chief is in the first row.

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KILKENNY, Ireland — Traveling rural Ireland on the highways from Kilkenny to Glendalough via bus coach Wednesday, our guide from Wild Rover Tours, Ian, talked about the Irish potato famine of 1845. And Ian related a story that some Oklahomans know and that I’ve certainly read about.

In 1847, news of the Irish famine reached Indian Territory, and leaders of the Choctaw Nation in what now is eastern Oklahoma collected money for Irish relief. The Choctaws’ donation was either $174 or $710, depending on the source, but either way, that’s good money for almost 200 years ago, particularly from a people who themselves were undergoing hardship, having just been forcibly removed from their ancestral homes in Mississippi a few years earlier. The story was mostly forgotten for about 140 years but came to light due to research by Don Mullan, an Irish filmmaker and author, who publicized the gift with a variety of projects.

In 2020, when the Navajo and Hopi tribes in the U.S. were hit hard by the pandemic, the Irish people raised $2 million to donate.

Now here’s the crazy part. In the front row of the bus Wednesday sat not just a member of the Choctaw Nation, but the great-grandson of Gilbert Wesley Dukes, who was the Choctaw chief from 1900-1902.

Gary Nelson  has been my friend for 45 years. We married first cousins, and he and Donnetta are on our Irish trip, along with Trish the Dish’s sister, Carolyn, and her husband, Louie.

Gary and Donnetta have lived in Carrollton, Texas, for almost 40 years, but they grew up in Pontotoc County. Gary was the 1976 Ada High School quarterback.

And Wednesday, a stranger from the other side of the world started talking about the Choctaws. What a small world.

Ian was a great representative of the Irish people, who were billed before we got here as warm and welcoming, and that’s certainly been the case. 

When the Thunder playoffs collide with travel plans, you get @BerryTramel in Ireland.

Berry's travel blog from Day 1 in Dublin: ⬇️ https://t.co/VZmrrO47RX

— Sellout Crowd (@selloutcrowd_) April 30, 2024

Ian is retired as a detective sergeant after 34 years in law enforcement, part of Ireland’s Gardai, the national police force. Ian was funny and charming and knowledgeable and helpful. We thoroughly enjoyed our day with Ian and the bus driver, Peter, who steered the coach like a master through the busy streets of Dublin and the narrow roads of rural Ireland.

Louise, our guide through Dublin Castle the day before, also was quite charming, and not just because of the great accent. I detect a trend.

We barely had left Dublin when a passenger got repeatedly from motion sickness. Ian eventually helped the couple in question to make the decision to depart the bus and return to Dublin. When he got back aboard, Ian reminded us that the fellow “didn’t come with those intentions” and shared with us some more wisdom. “It could have happened to a bishop.”

Our day tour — which cost a most reasonable $46 per person — consisted of stops in Kilkenny, Glendalough and a sheep farm in County Wicklow.

Charming city of Kilkenny

One of the great things about trips is discovering where to go on future trips. And my 2½ hours in Kilkenny convinced me that we’ve got to get back to Kilkenny, when we have more time.

The city of 27,000 is quaint, bustling, historic and vibrant. It contains the magnificent Kilkenny Castle, which was built in 1214. The castle was built by William Marshall, son-in-law of Richard “Strongbow” de Claire, a Norman warrior summoned to Ireland to help bring stability to the region. The castle stayed in Marshall’s family for 700 years but was mostly abandoned in the 1900s, and the Irish government bought it for 50 pounds in 1967, then began restoration projects.

Alas, we didn’t have time to tour the castle. I’ve got to get back.

Kilkenny has a vibrant commercial district, most of which looks straight out of U.S. downtowns, circa 1970. Lots of small shops and local businesses.

But Kilkenny also has an ancient district, just off downtown, dating back to medieval days, with restaurants and shops. We reached antiquity by cutting through a tiny lane called the Butter Slip, which was no wider than six feet. A variety of businesses were in the Butter Slip, including an Italian restaurant, a shoe repair shop, a sweater store, a used bookstore and a barber shop.

All kinds of shops and eateries awaited in the ancient section, including a tavern that once was the home of Alice de Kyteler, who in 1324 was accused of being a witch. Ian related the story.

Poor Alice likely was not a witch, but she did marry four men, got herself as the beneficiary of their wills and all four were found dead. Alice fled the country, according to legend, but her servant, Petronella de Meath, was burned at the stake.

That Italian restaurant in the Butter Slip? It’s called “Petronella’s.”

Ian regaled us with stories like that all day. I just wish I had more time in Kilkenny; I’m no shopper, but I saw several stores that drew my eye.

Kilkenny is known for its arts and musical festivals. It has a magnificent church, St. Canice’s, with a round tower that can be climbed via staircase. Most such structures in Ireland cannot be accessed.

We grabbed a bite to eat at The Playwright, a warm eatery that served me another excellent piece of cod (Louie tried shepherd’s pie, an Italian staple that is sort of a pot pie, only with mashed potatoes and is a first cousin to Irish Stew).

I’ll be back to Kilkenny some day. And hopefully make it to Waterford also, some 32 miles south. On this trip, we won’t be hitting Waterford, home of the famous crystal manufacturer. Trish the Dish needs to get to Waterford.

Monastic Glendalough

We journeyed on to Glendalough, an historic village known for its major impact on Irish Christianity. Glendalough is a small town, known for 1,500 years(!) as a monastic settlement.

Kevin, who became Saint Kevin, came to Glendalough with a small group of monks to form a monastery sometime in the late 500s. Kevin’s fame spread, he attracted a variety of followers and his monastery lasted more than 700 years.

Today, the Glendalough (pronounced Glenda-lock) site consists of a still-in-use cemetery that includes gravestones going back 10 centuries, plus the relics of a variety of buildings that were built at least 800 years ago. A church that clearly was not the monastery’s first; a building that housed women’s worship; an ornate Celtic cross that is no telling how old; and a building called Kevin’s Kitchen, because it apparently was where monks went to remove themselves from the world, some even unto death.

A quaint inn and bistro are on the site, about a mile from the village, and it’s a beautiful setting, with a river and a lake nearby, but we spent two hours there. I would have taken one hour, and used the other in Kilkenny.

We did drive through beautiful country and some charming hamlets.

We went through Hollywood, which the Irish say was the inspiration for the name of the California entertainment citadel. Matthew Guirke, who was born in Hollywood, Ireland, in 1826, migrated to the U.S. and eventually became a California entrepreneur in southern California. On a mountain overlooking Hollywood, Ireland, is a Hollywood sign trying to replicate what millions have viewed in the Hollywood Hills.

In Baltinglass, Ireland, we saw three-bedroom homes under construction for 260,000 Euros; Ian estimated that the same house would be double that in Dublin, 81 kilometers to the north.

And we heard police stories from Ian, including how most of the Guardia is unarmed. The Irish are proud of their police force. Ian said that since 1922, more than 100 years, only one unarmed Guardia officer has been killed on duty. The Guardia officers involved in counter-terrorism do carry weapons.

Tricia Tramel holds a lamb at Richie Cullens’ sheep farm in County Wicklow, Ireland. (Berry Tramel/Sellout Crowd)

Shepherd of the Hills

Trish the Dish has been infatuated with Irish sheep farms — don’t ask me why — and she got to experience one Wednesday. Our final stop was at Richie Cullens’ sheep farm about 45 minutes south of Dublin, in the Wicklow Mountains.

Richie is a fourth-generation farmer. He showed off his sheep dog, Spot, who was incredible at getting the sheep to go where Richie commanded.

Armed with a microphone to talk to the tourists, Richie stood in his pasture, along with Spot, and told us all about the life and the process of sheep-farming.

Ireland is remarkably free of predatory animals. Richie said there are no wolves or coyotes to bother the sheep, only an occasional fox. Richie said he loses money on shearing the sheep; he raises them for the meat market. 

Richie has about 300 sheep and four dogs, though the eldest, is about retired. Working the sheep on the mountainside can wear out a dog.

Richie allowed the visitors to hold lambs; their wool felt like shag carpet, circa 1976.

It was a fun stop. And Ian, despite his charm and friendliness, is a retired cop. He meant business. He told us at Glendalough the bus would be taking off at 4:30 p.m. for the sheep farm. At 4:32 p.m., two members weren’t back yet. Ian sent the bus on to the sheep farm, with orders for Peter to drop us off, then return for the stragglers. “Can’t keep the sheep farmer waiting,” Ian said.

Heck, we even relied on Ian for a dinner recommendation, after he dropped us off near Trinity College back in Dublin. We chose Forno 500, an Italian place. It was quite good. I had mushroom risotto, because I can’t get risotto too much in America.

It was a good day in Ireland, complete with the small-world tale of an Irish tour guide talking about the Oklahoma Choctaws, unbeknownst that a Choctaw was in his midst.