Our Portsmouth Bordens

We have more Bordens in our family than you can shake a stick at, from the first Borden who came to Boston in 1635 to the last male Borden, Civil War veteran Stephen  Bailey Borden (1838-1901).  Our beloved Aunt Nettie was Nettie Borden Studley and her hometown, Fall River, was studded with Bordens.

This is the story of only those Bordens born in Portsmouth.  We'll address the others later.  Here is a cheat sheet to keep them straight.  It doesn't help that families all named their kids after themselves, their parents, their grandparents, their siblings, and their best friend when they ran out of names.  In fact, family historians would rather see best friend namesakes than five Richards in a row.

Most researchers believe the Bordens came to England from Normandy with William the Conqueror in 1066.

Richard's parents were Matthew Borden (1583-1620) and Matthew's second wife Joan Glover (1583-1620) of Headcorn, Kent, England. The Borden Coat of Arms is on record the Herald's office in London, However, while Matthew owned lands across Headcorn, Smarden, and Bletchenden, and served as a churchwarden, he was not an armigerous gentleman and never registered a coat of arms.

Richard Borden (1595-1671) and his wife Joan Fowle  (1604-1688) were not spring chickens when they crossed the pond from Headcorn, Kent, England to Boston in 1635. He was 40 and she 31 years old.  One child had died in infancy; the other three came to the colonies with their parents, including sons Thomas, 8, Francis, 7, and daughter Mary, 3.  Three years in Boston and a dissenter in the Antinomian Controversy, Richard took his family to Portsmouth with the first group of settlers.   

Altogether, Richard and Joan had 11 children, eight boys and three girls, born between Joan’s ages of 22 and 48 years.  Son Matthew was the first child of English descent born on Aquidneck in May 1638.  Three sons, Francis, Samuel and Benjamin settled in New Jersey where the family had extensive land holdings. Richard and Joan’s illustrious offspring include Marilyn Monroe, Gail Borden of Borden Milk, Robert Laird Borden, prime minister of Canada during WWI; notorious offspring includes Lizzie Borden.

Richard was prominent in the governance of the Rhode Island Colony.  As a surveyor, he acquired substantial land in Rhode Island, Massachusetts, and New Jersey.  He was one of the founders of the Society of Friends (Quakers) in Portsmouth.  His will indicated he had a Negro man and woman and 3 Negro children.  Joan and Richard are buried in the Friends Churchyard in Portsmouth.

Generation Two

Two of Richard and Joan’s children are our grandparent ancestors:

• Mary Borden (1632-1690), born in Cranbrook, Kent, England, fourth child of Richard and Joan.  She was three years old when the family arrived in Boston and 6 years old when they moved to the Portsmouth settlement.  As the oldest girl with seven younger siblings, Mary’s time was likely consumed with helping her mother.  She married John Cooke (1630-1691) at age 20 and had nine children of her own.  She lived her entire life in Portsmouth, died at age 58, and was unusually fortunate that none of her children preceded her in death.  She is buried in the John Cooke Lot in Portsmouth, a small burial ground in an open field on Glen Farm in Portsmouth, beside a stone wall on the south side of Glen Road, 0.3 mile east of East Main Road that was John's land.

• John Borden (1640-1716), the 5th son of Richard and Joan, was born in Portsmouth in 1640. Two older brothers, Thomas and Francis, moved to New Jersey to look after the family land holdings when John was about 25, while John and his two year older brother, Matthew, stayed in Portsmouth and were considered pillars of the community.  On Christmas Day 1670 - he married 16 year old Mary Walker Earle (1654-1734), fourteen years his junior.  John inherited substantial land from his father who died the following year.  He continued to acquire property, publicly saying “if any man has land to sell at a fair price, I am ready to buy and have money ready at my house to pay for it.”  He bought Hog Island, for grazing cattle as well as lands at Bristol Ferry, Swansea, Tiverton, and Freetown.  He operated the ferry service between Portsmouth and the mainland in 1660 when only 20 years old.

John Borden (1640-1716)

John and Mary had nine children; all born in Portsmouth and all but one moved off the island:

• Richard m. Innocent Cornell  settled in Fall River
• Joseph m. Sarah Brownell  and moved to Fall River
• John Jr. settled on his father’s land in Swansea, later part of Scuitate, and set up a forge to make wrought iron
• Amey married Benjamin Chase and settled in Tiverton
• Thomas remained in the family home in Portsmouth
• Mary moved to her father's land holdings in Pennsylvania with her husband, progenitor of the Potts family in that area
• Hope married into the Almy family in Tiverton 
• William went into the ship building business in Newport and eventually moved to North Carolina where he had a shipyard and named the local river Newport 
• Benjamin joined his uncles in New Jersey and Virginia where he accumulated thousands of acres.  He made two trips to England to recruit hundreds of Scotch-Irish Presbyterians to farm the land.

A close friend to King Philip of King Philip’s War, John was sent to negotiate in an effort to head off the impending Indian war.

John was a devout Quaker and involved in erecting the Friends Meetinghouses in Newport and Portsmouth.  No slaves were mentioned in his will.  Both John and Mary lived well into their 70’s and were buried in the Portsmouth Friends Churchyard.

Portsmouth Friends Churchyard behind the Meeting house

Generation Three

Two of John and Mary’s children are our Fall River and Freetown grandparent ancestors :

• Richard Borden (1671-1732), born, raised and married in Portsmouth at age 21 to Innocent Cornell (1673-1720), first located his home after marriage on a 14 acre family farmstead in what is now Fall River, sold timber for ship masts in Newport and became an original proprietor in Tiverton, RI.  He and his brother, Joseph, bought a mill lot in Fall River from Benjamin Church of our Little Compton Church family.  Joseph soon became mortally ill and turned over his share to Richard.  At the time of Richard’s death at age 60, he was the largest landowner in Fall River.  

Richard and Innocent had seven children, 4 boys and 3 girls.  Their second son, Thomas (1697-1740), born in Tiverton, married Mary Gifford, to continue our family line in Fall River.  Thomas' son, Richard, was a legend in Fall River for his defiance of the British during the American Revolution.  Richard and Innocent's third son, Joseph Fuller, was killed instantly in a tragic accident at the mill at age 34.  Richard and Innocent are buried at the Portsmouth Friends Churchyard.

• Joseph Borden (1680-1715), born and raised in Portsmouth, married Sarah Brownell (1681-1715) - he age 22 and she 21 - and settled on family land in Swansea between the birth of their third child in 1709 and fourth in 1712.  Their deaths at a young age within 5 months of each other in 1715 suggest the possibility of tuberculosis or other chronic infectious disease.  Or, perhaps Sarah was despondent from Joseph’s death and killed herself, the kind of thing that would not be mentioned in history.  They left 4 young children in the care of her sister and a complaint was filed in 1750 that the aunt did not give them their due inheritance.

Generation Four

William Borden (1707-1756), son of Joseph and Sarah Brownell, was born in Portsmouth but moved with his family to Swansea, MA, by age 4 and to Freetown by age 8 where his parents died within 5 months of each other that year.  William, his wife and 15 immediate relatives were removed from the family burial ground on Central Street, Fall River, likely the farmstead at the time, to Oak Grove Cemetery in Fall River.

Home on original Borden Portsmouth farmstead, built in mid-1800's, on National Register of Historic Places.  Photo by John Phelan.

And so, all but one of John Borden’s progeny left the island by 1712, including our grandparent ancestors.  Only Thomas from our line remained in the family home on the farmstead.

Richard Borden (1671-1732) and Innocent Cornell are our 8th great grandparents.

Historical and Genealogical Record of the Descendants, as far as known, of Richard and Joan Borden, who settled in Portsmouth Rhode Island, May 1638, Weld.

Headstone Dedication for our Civil War Grandfather, George W. Caseman

My summer road travels took me back to my old Kentucky home and some family I haven’t seen in over 50 years. 

Corporal George W. Caseman and his second wife, Eliza Ellen Moore, are buried in unmarked graves at Clarksburg Cemetery in Lewis County, Kentucky.  His son, George E. Caseman, has a marked grave in this cemetery.  My Kentucky sister, Janie Nute-Thomas, and I were able to obtain a new granite headstone for a Civil War great grandfather through the Veterans Administration.

Clarksburg Cemetery, Lewis County, Kentucky

We held a touching full military ceremony with the help of Kentucky Sons of Union Civil War Veterans, complete with honor guard, firing salute, presentation of flag to next of kin, and taps.   John Kalbfleish and John Mills from the Kentucky Sons of Union Veterans of the Civil War travelled from Lexington to assist with the memorial.

Sergeant Allen Dillow, Ret. USAF, receiving flag from Commander John Kalbfleish, Kentucky Sons of Union Veterans of the Civil War

The flag went to our Vietnam veteran cousin, Air Force Master Sergeant Allen Dillow - we are like two peas in a pod - and he tried hard not to show he was tearing up at receiving the flag. Even more cool, we had a good crowd of descendants from our Civil War guy who came for the dedication, some of whom lived in the same town and didn't know they were related. Never underestimate the power of blood kin, especially Kentucky kin.

First row, left to right:  Katharine Dixon, MD, Brodie Forman, Heather Monteith

Second row:  Janie Nute-Thomas, Kathleen Fannin, Linda Dyer, Bonnie Caseman Hampton, Janice Smith

Back row:  Allen Dillow, Ray Nute, George Howell, Connie Monteith

Wailing gets you nowhere in China. Trust me. I know.

Friday morning, we got our luggage out our door for pick-up bright and early as Brenda instructed us to do the evening before, and we brought our passports to her at breakfast.  She said she would use them to get our boarding passes for the flight to Yichang where we would board our ship.

I forgot to mention in my earlier post that the breakfast buffet at the Shangri-La is international.  IHOP has nothing on this place.  We could choose from Chinese (salads and vegetables and dinner food and - oh, the noodles!), English (love those grilled tomatoes and mushrooms), or American (pancakes, waffles, omelets, bacon, yogurt and cereal) – and hordes of fresh fruit. I had my first lichi (lychee?), which was pretty interesting.  There was a melon with tiny black seeds throughout the white meat.  I didn’t like that one so well.  The big surprise, however, was the watermelon.  Watermelon was served at every meal.  I was in breakfast heaven.

From this breakfast Kathie and I absconded with some food for lunch since lunch was to be on our own.  She picked up some smoked salmon and a roll; my choice was cheese and a roll.  Surreptitiously tucked those in Kathie’s bag and we were off.

On our way to the airport we stopped at the Shanghai Museum where we got more than our fill of non-modern Chinese art.  I like that stuff ok but one can take only so many old paintings of tall skinny mountains shrouded in mist with a little fat man sitting in the window of a house at the foot of said mountains.  Or Buddha sculptures – in every pose, every medium, and every size.  Or ethnic dress – could we at least put the clothes on a manikin?  Personally, I would have liked to see some contemporary Chinese art.  Surely they have some of that somewhere.

We drove to the airport where Brenda handed us our passports and boarding passes.  The group melted into the lines for security and, as usual, I chose the line that took the longest.  Consequently, when the young man at the desk told me that something on my boarding pass didn’t match the corresponding whatever on my passport and that I would have to go back out to the ticketing area to get it fixed, Kathie had already cleared security and was waiting for me but everyone else had left the area and headed to the gate – including Brenda our guide/babysitter/negotiator.  I mouthed an explanation to Kathie, then turned around and high-tailed it back out to the lobby.

Remembering Steve Martin’s advice, I explained my dilemma slowly and clearly to the ticketing agent.  In turn, he explained slowly and clearly to me (several times, because reading lips isn’t so easy when the lips speak with an accent) that I needed to go down to A18 to have the supervisor – who looked like he was all of 20 years old - fix my boarding pass.  The whole time I was imagining Brenda freaking out because she had lost one of her ducklings.

When I returned to the security area with my corrected boarding pass, there were Kathie and Brenda looking very relieved to see me.  I wasn’t out of the woods yet though.  No sirree, now I got to have the scanner guy relieve me of all of my hand sanitizer.  “What??  But I have it in my quart sized baggie of liquids,” I wailed.  No, he wasn’t having any of that.  It was flammable, he said.  I should have packed it in my checked baggage, he said.  

I spent the rest of the trip in varying states of anxiety that I didn’t have any hand sanitizer. 

And this is why I don’t blog very often…I get so hung up writing stream of consciousness stuff that I can only cover one day of travel at a sitting.  Throw in photographs and hyperlinks to background material and I get, like, paralyzed in the quagmire of details. 

So, next installment, whenever that may be – we may actually cruise the Yangtze.

Confucius says, “Don’t be sad that it is over, be happy that it was.”

Kathie and I left for LAX early enough on Tuesday morning to arrive in plenty of time for our 1:30 p.m. flight to Shanghai.  Oh my gosh, the traffic was heavy!  For someone used to Charleston traffic, the ride up the 5 from San Diego was…well, let’s just say it set the tone for our time on the ground in China.

Our flight was long but Kathie had upgraded our seats to coach plus.  Nice going, Kath.  Crossing the international dateline, we arrived in Shanghai at 5:30 p.m. on Wednesday – totally disoriented time-wise.  It took me a bit to figure out that China is 12 hours ahead of Charleston but yet 15 hours ahead of San Diego.  How could that be if San Diego is three hours closer to China than Charleston is?  Mind blowing, I tell you. 

(And ALL of China is 12 hours ahead of Charleston, because even though China covers 5 time zones geographically, their government has decreed that everyone there should go about their day in the same time zone.  As an American, I had a little difficulty comprehending how that would work.)

A sweet Chinese girl was waiting for us as we came out of baggage claim.  She guided us to our shuttle and chatted with us as we drove to the Shangri-La Hotel.  Along the way, we passed the Oriental Pearl TV Tower, our first run-in with modern Chinese architecture.  What the heck?  It looked like a bad Godzilla movie version of a space ship.  Seriously bizarre.

At the Shangri-La, we met Brenda Chao, who would be our guide for the whole trip.  She is from Shanghai but lives in Beijing – a lovely lady who took great care of us.  More about her later.

We settled into our room.  This place is really stunning.  The crystal chandelier in the lobby lounge must have been ten feet tall and looked like a very sparkly reactor core on the starship Enterprise.  Beam me up, Scotty!  I was truly mesmerized by it, especially with the cityscape showing through the 2-story window behind it.

After a huge buffet breakfast on Thursday morning, Brenda hooked us up with our local guide, whose name for our purposes was Charlie.  When I say us, I mean Kathie and me along with 20 other Americans we had never met before.  More about them later. 

We boarded our bus and set out into incredible traffic to see the fantastic skyscape of the relatively new business district of Shanghai from across the Huangpu River.  The Shanghai Tower is the tallest building in China and the third tallest in the world.  It wasn’t totally finished when we were there but I still don’t get the design – tall, skinny, asymmetric, kind of wobbly looking.

Then we did a quickie tour of the old concessions and stopped at the Yu Yuan market.

Yes, that girl's t-shirt says Cnahel, instead of Chanel.  Whatev.

Not sure what those little guys on the sticks were.  Maybe corndogs?

After Kathie and I walked around a little, we pushed through the crowds to get to the tea house for a spot of tea.  No Starbucks for us, baby.  (Yes, there was a Starbucks right there in the little square.)  

Weren’t our pots of tea pretty?  Mine was silver needle with osmanthus (tea olive) blossoms.  Very delicate and refreshing.

Then we braved the traffic to get back to our hotel for a dim sum lunch – yowza, that was nifty!  Bowls and bowls of Chinese dumplings with every filling you can imagine – all set on a glass lazy Susan in the middle of the table so you can scoop out what you want from each bowl as it’s passing by. 

After lunch, back on the bus to the silk “museum”, where we were shown how raw silk is transformed into comforters, pillows, etc.  (Here’s a video if you want to see for yourself.)  Of course, they had a lot of stuff we could buy; Kathie and I settled on a pair of silk bed pillows each – and I can tell you those pillows are wonderful!

After the museum, another long bus trek back to the hotel to change before heading out to the Shanghai Acrobats show.  I grew up in the Ed Sullivan era so I’ve seen performers juggling a gazillion plates at a time but wow, these folks were something.  My favorite was the little girl in the big hoop, twirling all over the stage, seemingly without getting dizzy.  Even bone-tired I was in awe of her skill.

Next – off to the Yangtze. 

Frogger Dude, 2002-2015

"I found a kitten crossing Highway 17 (in Mt. Pleasant)," the Animal Control lady said over the phone back in October 2002.  I had recently lost another kitty and she knew I was hurting.  "He's really friendly with my other cats and dogs.  Would you like to have him?"

Thus began my life with Frogger, so named after the video game by my girls.  Kelly remembers him as just a scrawny little kitten, only about 8 weeks old.  Over the years he porked up to 21 pounds - just a soft sweet mass of love.  Always purring, often lying on his back with his feet up in the air, the first to come running when he heard the cat food can pop open.  So when he quit eating altogether yesterday, I knew that was it. 

Rest in peace, Frogger Dude.  You were one in a million and I will miss you until we meet again, little man.  Try to leave the birdies and snakes alone in the meantime, k?

Courage

It's been a quiet 4th of July - one daughter working and the other celebrating her birthday with her husband.  So I've gotten a lot done - yard work, laundry, sitting with my sick kitty, and crafting.  I even managed to slip in a bit of a nap.  All in all, a good day.

As I went about the day, I thought about the courage of our forefathers who drafted the Declaration of Independence.  Did they write, "I cannot stand this king" or "This is the lousiest king ever" or "Death to the infidels"?  No, they eloquently listed their grievances against the king and declared that the colonies would no longer be politically connected to England, finishing with, "And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor."

Wow.  I want to write like that. 

I thought of the courage of the women as they waved goodbye to their husbands and sons, not knowing if they would return but absolutely knowing that their own lives would not be the same again. 

Unfathomable. 

I wonder if my ancestors whose courage gave me my freedom would be proud of me today.  I hope so - I'm sure proud of them.

I hope you've had a terrific Independence Day!

The Caseman Family: George W. Caseman (1828-1913)

*Grace was born to an unmarried Mary Jane and took on the last name of her stepfather, William Martin.

*Since this blog was posted, further research has uncovered George's ancestry. See posts on Frederick Kaseman and Jacob Caseman.

Tracing the Caseman family beyond Mary Jane becomes more difficult as we go back into the 1700’s and early 1800’s.  Records become scarcer, lost in floods, fires, or never recorded in the frontier and backwoods of Kentucky and western Pennsylvania.  Maybe someone from the family got into town to record a birth or death at the court house and often they didn’t; or perhaps there was no nearby court house.  The dead might be buried on the farm with just a stone or wooden cross marker, or the headstone has been destroyed.

George’s Civil War background has been described in The Killing Fields of Chickamauga and They Stood As If Every Man was a Hero although George’s capture by Confederates outside Atlanta during Sherman’s march was not detailed.

Our mother - who would have been George’s great-granddaughter - always insisted Mary Jane’s side of the family was German.  Since George’s wife, Meriah, was likely Scottish descent the German side had to come from the Casemans.

Suggestions have been made that George's father Jacob descended from William Caseman in Frederick County, Virginia and later Greene County, Pennsylvania, and that William’s original name was Wilhelm Kaeseman.  Wilhelm was born in Nesselrode, Germany and was a Hessian mercenary fighting for the British when captured at Yorktown.  While being marched around as POW’s, the prisoners had opportunity to “get lost”, i.e., escape, and that Wilhelm stayed and settled in this country as a young man.  Again, this is myth until we are able to make documented connection between our Jacob and Wilhelm.

Venango County, Pennsylvania

Franklin, Pennsylvania, lies at the confluence of French Creek and the Allegheny River in Venango County.  Franklin was the site of first a French fort and later a British fort in the 1700’s, The British were massacred and Fort Venango burned  by Indians in 1763, followed by construction of Fort Franklin by the Americans.  A frontier community was established in the late 1700’s in the Fort Franklin area by Virginians, many claiming land for their services in the Revolution.  Travel through the early 1800’s was difficult due to poor condition of any roads and trails, leaving inhabitants heavily dependent on creeks and rivers.  Boats easily brought passengers and goods upstream from Pittsburgh via the Allegheny and this is likely the path by which the Caseman’s arrived.

The family’s presence in Venango County, Pennsylvania, in 1828 is established by the fortuitous finding of George’s birthplace on his Civil War enlistment and later his marriage certificate with Eliza.   His parents are established as Jacob Caseman and Lydia by records in Pendleton County.  Later census records establish Lydia’s birth as about 1798 in Pennsylvania, but Jacob’s birth, age, and their marriage have not yet been found.

There are no Casemans or families with similar spellings in the 1820 Venango County census so it is relatively safe to say at least John Jacob arrived between 1820 and George’s birth in 1828.  Did they arrive as a family, or did John Jacob migrate on his own and marry a local girl?

The 1830 census shows a John J Caseman family with man and woman in the appropriate age range and  and four children living in French Creek near the fork with the Allegheny River, the only Casemans in Venango County in that census year so we can be relatively certain this is our family.

We do know with some certainty that young Lydia, George’s older sister born in 1821, and the older Lydia, John Jacob’s wife, were both born in Pennsylvania but their birth places lack county documentation and we do not know the older Lydia’s maiden name.  There is a 7 year gap between sister Lydia and George’s births which could be accounted for by a number of possibilities.  That John Jacob and Lydia electively decided not to have children until they migrated from elsewhere in Pennsylvania would have been highly unusual for the times.  Another thought is that young Lydia was born from a previous marriage, her mother since died, and older Lydia was Jacob’s second wife, starting a second family with George in 1828.  However,  the most plausible explanation is that several children between young Lydia and George were born but died in childhood.  The support for this option is that young and old Lydias share a common name, a frequent practice at the time and a bane to genealogy researchers.

Hamilton County, Ohio

A History of Venango County relates one of the first settlers in Franklin was George Power who helped build the fort, stayed a bit longer, then moved on to Fort Washington which is now Cincinnati.  He returned to Franklin in 1790 and lived on the bank of French Creek until his death in 1845.  Did John Jacob hear about Ohio from this neighbor, or other neighbors?  Franklin was becoming more hospitable by the time John Jacob decided to move on with his family.  By the early 1800’s roads were being laid out, and by 1823 the town had a hotel, a lumber yard, brick maker, justice of the peace and two story houses.  An influx of settlers grew the county from 4000 in 1820 to 9000 by 1830.  Was it becoming too crowded and land too expensive?  If John Jacob had established his homestead on the banks of French Creek, were they prompted to leave due to frequent severe flooding?

In any event, several years after the birth of Lydia the couple had three more children in quick succession, George in 1828, Jacob in 1831, and Mary Anne in 1833.  By time of the 1840 census, the family and four children had migrated down the Allegheny and Ohio Rivers to Anderson, Hamilton County, Ohio.  A fifth and last child, Foster, was born in Hamilton County in 1842.

Older sister, Lydia, came of age in Hamilton County and married Robert Hay in 1842, subsequently remaining in the Covington area.  By 1870, Lydia was twice widowed and living in Falmouth, Pendleton County, Kentucky.  Her 70 year old mother, the older Lydia, is in the home.

Pendleton County, Kentucky

Our Jacob, Sr., and Lydia came to Pendleton County sometime between 1842 when Foster was born in Hamilton County and 1847 when there is documentation Jacob Sr. bought a mill from Alexander Rouse in Pendleton County (Pendleton Circuit Court, p. 229).  Jacob, Sr. likely died in the next 2-3 years as he is not listed in the 1850 census.  Proceedings in 1853 show the Jacob, Sr. was “much embarrassed” financially at the time of his death, and the mill was foreclosed leaving his heirs to pay his debts.

In 1850 widowed Lydia is living with 22 year old head of household George W. who is now supporting his mother, his three younger siblings, Jacob now 19, Mary Anne, 15, Foster 8, and a one year old Edward.  A circuit court document in 1855 issued a summons for George to appear before the judge to show cause why he should not be bound out in the death of the infant son of Jacob; this may be Edward as he does not show up in later censuses.  

Our 24 yr old George married 20 year old Meriah Johnson, daughter of farmer and mill owner William Johnson, in 1852.  George is farming in Flower Creek, indeed just a designated post office with no associated town.  The closest village is Butler.

The mother, 55 tear old Lydia, remarried  in 1855 to a neighboring farmer, 79 year old John Clinkenbeard, and left the family home.

Jacob, Jr., 26, married 15 year old Sarah Mains from a nearby farm in 1857. 

In 1860, twenty year old Foster is working as a farm hand in Campbell County, Kentucky, which is Sarah’s home county.

George and Meriah had their first child, Lydia, (another Lydia!) in November 1852 followed by another 3 children over the next 8 years.  Of these, only our great grandmother, Mary Jane, survived childhood.  Tragedy struck the family when 5 year old Lydia and 1 year old Jacob L (another Jacob!) died with infant flux within days of each other.  Young William, born in 1858 is on the census in 1860, but not ten years later in 1870 when he would have been only 12, and he must have died sometime in the interim.  Their fifth child, Emily, was born in 1861 months before George left for war.

In October 1861, 33 year old George and his two brothers, 30 year old Jacob and 19 year old Foster, enlisted in the Union Army, Kentucky 23rd Regiment, Company D, and trained a Camp King near Covington, Kentucky.  George is described as tall at 6’ 3/4”, hazel eyes, black hair, and a scar over his right temple.  Foster is described as 5’8”, dark complexion, brown eyes, black hair.

The regiment went by foot to Lexington, then to Louisville where they boarded a steamer and were transported to Nashville.  They wintered 1862-63 at Nashville and saw little action through the spring and summer.  Through this period, George was promoted through the ranks to Corporal before even leaving Lexington, then to Sergeant by July 1862.  All three boys left the unit in August 1862, “left behind on the march,” a week before the units first severe fight at Round Mountain in Tennessee and remained AWOL until March 30, 1863.  Very likely they went home to help with fall harvest, possibly tobacco; with some re-organization of Rosecrans’ army an amnesty was offered allowing the boys to return without penalty other than George was demoted back to private status.

The 23rd remained in Tennessee through the summer until moved to Chattanooga in September 1863.  They did reconnaissance up Lookout Mountain looking for Confederates and subsequently engaged in the horrific fight at Chickamauga.  On the first day of battle, September 19, Lt. Colonel Foy, commander of the 23rd, describes arriving at Lee and Gordon’s Mills about daylight, having some marching and flanking action and entering the fight at about 11 AM,

“…the battery to our rear was pouring in destructive fire into their (Confederate) ranks and the Twenty -third Kentucky poured in volley after volley.  After we had been in this position about one-half to three-quarters of an hour, I noticed that the enemy were renewing the attack with redoubled vigor.  The Second Kentucky retired step by step and inch by inch until they arrived on a line with us.  At this instant I noticed the 24th Ohio giving slowly back.  I immediately sent an officer to see what was the matter.  He brought the word back “all right” and that they intended to hold their ground.  We now fought, I suppose for about an hour longer, but right in the midst of the fighting, finding out that the artillery to our rear was wounding some of the men in the right companies we moved to the left … we renewed our ammunition, marked to pass lines to the rear, which was done in good order… we had scarcely fallen back when the enemy redoubled their attack with great fury…they stood as every man a hero…side by side and shoulder to shoulder did the 24th Ohio and 23rd Kentucky stand up and successively repulse the enemy in all his attacks…the fire now was very hot.  It appeared to me as though every third man in the regiment was struck… finally, seeing we were outnumbered at least five to one, I very reluctantly gave the command to retire.  I found my loss to be 1 officer killed, 3 officers wounded, and 42 enlisted men wounded and 9 killed.”

Among the 9 enlisted killed was young Foster, twenty one years old.  The Union had 16,170 casualties (killed in action, wounded, captured, missing) and Confederates 18,454 in those two days of battle.  Foster is buried at Chattanooga National Cemetery.

Foster Caseman, 1842-1864, killed in action at Chickamauga

Having lost a brother at their side, George and Jacob, nevertheless, would have to fight the following day which was just as horrendous until retreat of the Union Army into Chattanooga.

The 23rd remained in Chattanooga surrounded and under siege by the Confederate Army until General Grant opened a supply line across the river to the starving men.  A week after Chickamauga, Jacob was accidentally shot by a drunken guard in his barracks, requiring amputation at the elbow and ending his soldier career.

George, alone without his brothers, and the 23rd moved out and participated in the great charge up Missionary Ridge on November 25 to break the siege, “there was never such a bold and daring charge made or witnessed by the Army of the Cumberland,” according to the commander of the 23rd.

With their three year enlistment up in January 1864, George and most of regiment re-enlisted and continued on with Sherman’s march through Georgia. George fought through the battles at Rocky Face, Resaca, New Hope Church, Pine Top, and was finally captured at Kennesaw just outside Atlanta on September 24.  He was a prisoner of war, perhaps at the horrific prison at Andersonville as his release occurred in Savannah on November 21, 1864.  He reported back to the Union Army on November 25 and rejoined the fight chasing Hood’s army back into Tennessee and Alabama where he mustered out in January 1865.

After the war

Age 37, George returned to farming at Flower Creek, to Meriah and two young children, Mary Jane and Emily who was just months old when George enlisted. Over the previous 9 years, he had lost one brother killed in action at his side, one disabled with an arm amputation, the sudden deaths of two young children, an infant nephew in his home, and possibly a third child, William.  He and Meriah had another five children in rapid succession between 1866 and 1874.  Sometime before the1880 census Meriah died.  No record of her death or burial site has been found.

Jacob returned to Sarah Ann and the two children born before he went to war.  He worked the farm, bought a sawmill, and obtained an artificial arm.  He and Sarah had three more children, the last one born a month after Jacob’s death in 1874 at the age of 37.

Our great grandmother, Mary Jane was 10 when her father George returned home from the war and 4 years later, at age 15 in November 1869, Mary Jane married and left the home. She lived briefly in the Pendleton County area in Falmouth but within 3-4 years she and her husband, Frank Shumate, moved away to Illinois then to Lewis County, Kentucky, where Frank was killed by a horse, leaving her widowed with two young children.

Lewis County, Kentucky

The 1880 census finds widower George with six children near Vanceburg on a farm next to newly widowed Mary Jane and her two young children.  What drew the family to the Clarksburg area some distance from Flower Creek and who moved here first is unknown.  Mary Jane is supporting herself as a seamstress, likely living on the same farm in Valley where her husband was killed in 1879, and George is farming.

George and Eliza's marriage certificate

The same year, 1880, no doubt needing help with raising his young children, George took another wife, - a young Eliza Moore who was the same age as his daughter Mary Jane.  George had another four children with Eliza over the next 16 years, for a total of 14 children in all.  There was 32 years difference in age between Mary Jane and George’s last child. born when George was 68 years old.

George and Eliza remained in Valley on the farm next to Mary Jane and finished raising his children.

George and second wife Eliza Ellen

By 1910, George had moved into Vanceburg, living on Third Street, and Mary Jane has finished raising her children, soon if not already living on Dry Run close to Grace.

George died December 30, 1913 at his home at age 85.  He is buried in an unmarked grave in Clarksburg Cemetery.

The Caseman Family: Mary Jane's Story

Mary Jane was born July 31, 1854 in Pendleton County, Kentucky. Her birth was recorded as Mary Jane Ceeseman, daughter of George W. Ceeseman and Mariah Radigal. Since the county listed mothers under their maiden names, Mariah’s appearance as “Radigal” is puzzling—her maiden name was Johnson, and no earlier marriage is known. No Radigals appear in the 1850 Pendleton census, and “Ceeseman” is almost certainly a misreading of the clerk’s handwriting.

The family lived on a farm in Flower Creek, Kentucky, rural Pendleton County with hilly, rolling terrain and fertile river flats.  Flower Creek had a post office on the east bank of the Main Licking River.  Flower Creek had a small post office on the east bank of the Main Licking River, and the region remained backwoods country with wagon roads and stage routes leading toward steamboat landings on the Ohio River.  The Kentucky Central Railroad came through in the year of Mary Jane’s birth, but the county would not have a newspaper until 1870. Falmouth’s old pioneer cemetery, destroyed in 1930 when its stone markers were crushed for road gravel, held some of the earliest settler graves. Mary Jane and her siblings likely attended the one-room schoolhouse built in nearby Butler in 1856.  

Her grandfather, William Johnson, operated a saw and grist mill on the South Fork of the Licking River beginning in 1832, and her uncle, Jacob Caseman, ran a sawmill on Flower Creek until his early death at age 37 in 1874.

Mary Jane was the second of fourteen children born to her father over thirty-four years and two marriages. Mariah had the first ten in Pendleton County, and George's second wife later added four more in Lewis County. Mary Jane's early years were marked by loss: two siblings - Jacob (15 months) and Lydia Ann(age 5) - died within a day of each other when she was four years old, both from "infant flux." No record is found of her borhter William H. (1858) after 1860, and likely died young as well. A sister, Emma, was born in 1861 several months before George enlisted in the Union Army. If George's five children born before the Civil War, only two survived childhood.

George was a farmer, likely a tobacco farmer as Pendleton County was one of the first counties in Kentucky to produce tobacco.  George was away at war from the time Mary Jane was seven until 10 years old, leaving Mariah with three young children, Mary Jane,  William, 3, and Emily, 7 months.  Seven-year-old Mary Jane would have taken on many household responsibilities.  George’s two brothers, Jacob and young Foster, enlisted at the same time, leaving leaving the Caseman farms without adult men. Jacob married in 1857 and that family also lived in Flower Creek with two young children when Jacob went off to war with his brothers.

Our only photo of George (1828-1913)

The three brothers, George, Jacob, and Foster, all farmers, enlisted in the Kentucky 23rd Infantry in the fall of 1861 after tobacco harvest  and left their infantry unit in August the following summer about the time crops would again have to be harvested.  They were absent from the Union Army for several months and returned before the 1863 spring campaign started.  As a result of absence over these few months, George was demoted from sergeant to private.

In June 1864 the family would receive news that George had been captured at Kennesaw Mountain just north of Atlanta during Sherman’s Atlanta Campaign.  He was released in November 1864 and returned home to the farm in January 1865.  After George’s return, he and Mariah had another five children in rapid succession. Mariah disappears from the records after the birth of her last child in 1874 and presumably died before 1880.

Five years after her father's return,  15-year-old Mary Jane married 23- year-old Francis Marion Shumate in the family home.  Frank was from nearby Carter County but there were other Shumates living in Pendleton; likely, Frank came to Pendleton County through these connections.

Mary Jane's and Frank's marriage license, Pendleton County

By the 1870 census, Frank and Mary Jane were living in Falmouth, where Frank worked as a laborer. His 14-year-old brother died the following year.   The couple had three children over the next several years, George W.  born in 1874, Frances Elizabeth (“Aunt Sis”) in 1876, both born in Illinois, and Jesse in Lewis County in 1879.  The family’s whereabouts in Illinois or when they moved out of Pendleton County is not known.

Mary Jane and Frank moved from Illinois to the Clarksburg area of Lewis County by early 1879.  Just days after the birth of her third child, Jesse, in April 1879, Frank was killed by being kicked in the head by a horse.  Only age 24, a widow, and mother of three young children, Mary Jane had suffered multiple losses, including three young siblings, her mother, two young uncles (Foster killed in the Civil War; Jacob in 1874), a mother-in-law in 1871, a 14 year old brother-in-law, and years of her father's wartime absence and captivity.

The 1880 Census shows Mary Jane living in Valley, Lewis County, Kentucky, and working as a seamstress.  On the neighboring farm lived her widowed father, George, and his six children ranging in age from six to 19 years.  Mary Jane had been living in Lewis County at the time of Frank's death 1879 and her father and the rest of the children were in Lewis County at the time of the 1880 Census.

In 1883, Mary Jane, unwed, gave birth to another child, Grace Lee Shumate (aka Grace Martin), fathered by William Frederick Horsley, a 35-year-old farm laborer living on a neighboring farm with his sister, Amanda. A 1902 letter to Grace from William confirms the connection.

Eight months after Grace's birth, 29-year-old Mary Jane married 49 Abia J. Dillon, a farmer from Fleming County.  Notably, William Frederick Horsley was a witness at the wedding.

Mary Jane and Abia Dillon marriage certificate listing W.F. Horsley as a witness.

Mary Jane had another loss in 1885 when her son, George W., named after her father, died at eleven years old.  Her daughter, Francis, married at age fourteen in 1889 to William Johnson, age thirty. Mary Jane and second husband, Abia, may have separated that year before his death in 1889 in Fleming County.

Mary Jane's children:  Jesse Shumate, Grace Martin, Francis Shumate

In 1890, Mary Jane married a third time. William “Bill” Martin was ten years younger, and this marriage lasted forty five years until Mary Jane’s death.  Grace, who had been using the Shumate surname, adopted the Martin name after the marriage and was thereafter known as Grace Lee Martin.

Half sister, Lydia Caseman, Lydia's husband Charles Wallace, and Mary Jane, photo taken in 1890's

In the 1900 census, Mary Jane, husband Bill, and Grace are still in Valley.  Hiram Horsley, a nephew of William Frederick owns the next farm over and William Frederick is living with another nephew in Hamilton County, Ohio, working as a day laborer.  Her father, George, now 72, had remarried at age 52 to Eliza Ellen Moore, a woman the same age as daughter Mary Jane, and they are living on a nearby farm with their four teenage children. George fathered his last child at age 71.

Mary Jane and Bill had no children of their own, but my mother, Ramona, remembers Bill as a caring stepfather and grandfather.

Mary Jane’s youngest, Jesse Shumate, married and left the home in 1898, made a living as a farmer, but had his own tragedies with the deaths of two wives at young ages.  Jesse’s life was filled with loss and one of his descendants related Jesse felt he was a curse.  For a time around 1920, Mary Jane and Bill are caring for Jesse’s two children in their home.

Grace, 19, eloped in 1902 with Jacob Dillow, her teacher at Valley School. Why they eloped is unclear as Jacob was a fine, upstanding, educated young man.  They remained in Portsmouth for the next 3-4 years until buying a farm in Vanceburg just over the hill from Mary Jane and Bill’s farm in Valley. 

By the 1920 census, Mary Jane and Bill left their farm in Valley and moved to a home just across Dry Run Creek in Vanceburg, Lewis County where they were close at hand for Grace and Jacob’s seven children.  The family suffered another loss in 1925 when Grace and Jacob's son George, 17, died in 1925 from diabetes. Son Jesse's first two wives died at young ages, one in the 1918 influenza epidemic; another grandson died with typhoid fever in 1934.

By 1930, Mary Jane and Bill were still living in the Dry Creek home and operating a general store in the area.  Her daughter, Francis, married without children during Mary Jane's lifetime continued to live in Clarksburg, a once thriving community just north of Valley.  Grace and Jacob gave Mary Jane seven grandchildren and Jesse three grandchildren.

 William Martin and Mary Jane

William Martin in front of his and Mary Jane's General Store and Sunoco Station, Vanceburg, KY

Our mother spoke of Mary Jane with affection, often adding “the men really liked her.”  She had searched for the identity of Grace's biological father and only the advent of digital records finally confirmed him as William Frederick Horsley. He never married and lived with various relatives until his death in New Grand Chain, Illinois, in 1922.

Mary Jane died June 18, 1935, at age 80, with influenza; her husband survived her by sixteen years.  Both are buried in Woodland Cemetery in Vanceburg.

Albert E Studley: 1846-1864, our killer angel

“In the dark of the trees he could smell splintered wood and see white upturned faces like wide white dirty flowers.”
― Michael Shaara, The Killer Angels

After our second great grandfather George Studley and the 19th Maine buried the dead at Gettysburg, the pursuit of Lee began on foot back into Virginia, sometimes subsisting on half rations, men overcome by heat dying by the roadside, others thankful just to be alive, at one point 36 miles without rest or sleep.  Through the fall of 1863, they engaged the Confederates at Bristoe Station for a solid sixty hours and weathered the bitter cold of the December Battle of Mine Run.

Unlike other regiments, the 19th sustained few desertions.  They settled onto Cole’s Hill for the winter encampment and many of the men and officers were granted a fifteen day furlough that December.

Likely George, now an officer,  took advantage of the furlough to return to Camden, Maine, and the family he had been away from for sixteen months.  Harriet had been pregnant with our great grandfather, Sidney, when George enlisted in 1862.  While George was away at war, she cared for their six children ranging from age 8 months to teenager, as well as trying to make ends meet.  George was a carpenter so the family likely had only his service pay for support.  Her mother had died several years earlier, and her father was elderly.

Albert was the oldest of George and Harriet’s six children, three girls and three boys, in a family whose roots extended into the early 1600’s in Maine and Massachusetts.  He was 5’3” - not a big guy - with light complexion and grey eyes.  His great-grandfather had been one of the earliest settlers in the area and his mother’s side immigrants to the Plymouth, Massachusetts area, all sturdy stock to endure the privation of the times.

Albert E. Studley
Inscription on back of photo:  Albert E. Studley, born Camden, Maine
Mustered in at Belfast March 1st, 1864
Killed May 10th 1864 at Spotsylvania Court House
5 ft. 3 in, light complexion, grey eyes
6th Battery Light Artillery

 

At age 38 in 1862, father George was no spring chicken to be a soldier.  He enlisted in that early part of the war when men were volunteering to fight for the cause.  His 42 year old brother, Benjamin, enlisted in the 28th Maine Infantry, also in 1862, and brother, John III, in the 12th Maine Infantry in 1865 at age 42.  Their father, John Studley, Jr., fought in the War of 1812.

Such was the setting for George’s oldest son, Albert, turning 18 when his father returned home on furlough that December.  It is no surprise  then, that Albert enlisted in the First Battalion, 6th Maine Light  Artillery Regiment just a couple months later on February 29, 1864.

To give some background, “light artillery” are units whose cannoneers are individually horse mounted to allow the battery to travel faster.  They would operate with little organizational structure, assigned to go where needed.

With the standard six weeks of training, Albert would have joined the 6th Maine Light Infantry veterans of Gettysburg in mid-April 1864.  During Albert’s brief military career, the 6th Maine Light Infantry traveled with the 12th Corps, Army of the Potomac.  His father, George, was attached to the 19th Maine, 2nd Corps, but both Corps were engaged in the brutal and unrelenting Overland Campaign starting with the Battle of the Wilderness on May 5, 1864.

The Overland was a fight of two Titans, Generals Lee and Grant, opening with Grant electing to cross the Rapidan River downstream from the Confederate defenses, thinking perhaps Lee would not engage in the tangled thicket known as The Wilderness.

On May 5th, the first day in the Battle of The Wilderness, the 19th Maine had some action but on the 6th they hotly engaged superior numbers of Confederates while fires raged through the woods and at one point the breastworks of the 19th were on fire, “in some places Longstreet planted their colors on our works…the loss was severe.”  A Confederate offensive drove the Union Army back, and with this Grant responded by shifting 10 miles south to Spotsylvania Court House to place the Union Army between Lee and Richmond and find more favorable ground for battle.

The whereabouts of Albert and the 6th Maine Light Artillery during the Battle of the Wilderness are not known to this writer but the 19th Maine diarist at one point on the second day mentions the 6th Maine Battery.  The Wilderness, however, was an infantry battle and the 6th's battery of cannons of little use.

The 19th Maine’s commander, Seldon Connor, was wounded in the Wilderness and replaced by Major Welch.  The Second Corps moved south toward Spotsylvania on May 8th; the 19th Regiment's diarist writes,

“the experience of the last three days cast its shadow over the troops.  As they marched away, the men of the Regiment, unaccustomed to weeping, looked, with moistened eyes and quivering lips, into the burning woods behind them, where so many of their comrades lay, unburied, comrades who, in their dear old homes, had been their neighbors and schoolmates.”

Lee was able to maneuver his troops south of Grant, and on May 9th the 19th Maine engaged at the Po River.  Both sides built earthworks with some skirmishing going on in preparation for the confrontation at Spotsylvania Court House.  On the 10th, the 19th Maine took part in the charge on Laurel Hill held by the Confederates, the main obstacle to taking Spotsylvania Court House,

“the soldiers would cheerfully respond to any order General Hancock might give.  Our Division had more confidence because he was there.  So when the order was given to charge, Webb’s Brigade went forward with the rest of the line, with a wild rush toward the nearest point of the Confederate works.  On account of the trees and underbrush it was impossible to keep a regular line of battle.  The works to be captured were on higher ground, but the troops never reached the Confederate entrenchments.”

While George’s regiment was charging Laurel Hill on May 10, somewhere nearby young Albert was engaged in some of his first serious action when wounded by a shell.  He was moved to a field hospital and died the following day.

Private Albert E. Studley was originally buried at Laurel Hill, Spotsylvania, and later moved to Fredericksburg National Cemetery, Plot # 767.

Although we don’t know the exact location of the 6th Maine on the 10th, the fact he was first buried on Laurel Hill indicates this as the site of the field hospital and that Albert was wounded nearby.  His father’s 19th Maine Regiment was engaged in the assault on Laurel Hill on the same day.

Being in the vicinity, George probably learned of his son’s death the same day.  Lieutenant George Studley had another year of bloody fighting before the war ended in June 1865.

Lt. Studley and his two brothers all survived the war.

Sources:  The History of the Nineteenth Regiment of Maine Volunteer infantgry, 1862-1865, John Day Smith, 1909.

Thanks to Theresa Thrush, our cousin who found Albert's photo among her mother's collection last summer.

The Cousins have created a Living Legacy to Albert through the Hallowed Ground Living Legacy Tree Planting Project to Commemorate the 150th anniversary of the Civil Way by planting and designating one tree for each of the 620,000 soldiers who died, each life as valuable as Albert's.

Kenmare to Killarney - Another Walk Done!

Monday, 8/22/11, Kenmare to Killarney.  We arose bright and early for our hike through Killarney National Park.  Dennis the taxi driver didn’t take us as far as we wanted but it was a lovely day for walking and there was a minimum of sucking muck and rocks.  The park is beautiful. 

Along the way, we passed a sheep standing up on a rock, bleating his fool head off.  I think he was lost and calling his herd.  “Where are you?”  It still haunts me.

We arrived at the pick-up spot where Dux the cab driver after a bit picked us up to transport us to the Mystic Rose Guest House.  That was a different kind of place, I tell you, as was Kaynes, where we had dinner. 

Back home to get ready for traveling to Iceland on the morrow.  Another walk done!  

Sneem to Kenmare - If you leave me by myself for long, I WILL spend money.

On Sunday, the taxi driver and I dropped Kathie and Kathleen off at Blackwater Bridge, along with Mary and Bree who had also played hooky from the trail the day before.  I got dropped off with the bags at Neidin House in Kenmare.

I walked to town to check out the place, bought some dental floss, an Irish language book, and an unframed JoAnne Yelen gicleé.  (The limited edition at the link is similar to mine but not nearly as beautiful!)  JoAnne was a hoot – she called her sister-in-law Pam about my foot.  She said her brother is also an artist but he prefers kayaking.  Obviously a very talented family.

I dropped my stuff off back at the B&B and then headed for lunch at Bread Crumb Café.  The food was so-so but I had a fun conversation with a 12 year old boy from Salamanca.  He spoke English quite well (he said he had learned at his “academy”) and wants to visit San Francisco and New York.  Cuteness.

I went back to the room to wait for Kathie and Kathleen but they didn’t get back until after 5 p.m. because they apparently got lost trying to find the place.  Kathie said that along the way she had met a John McGrath twin and would’ve had dinner with him if he’d asked.  No wonder they got lost.

Instead, we had dinner at Foley’s Bar, where Kathie and Kathleen had beef and Guinness pie and I had a roast veggie goat cheese tart with a gin and tonic.  Yum!  After dinner, we walked out to see the stone circle and then back home to prepare for our last day.  I would be hiking.  YAY!

Caherdaniel to Sneem - How Not to Lose Weight on a "Walk"

Saturday, 8/20/2011, was supposed to be a hike from Derrynane to Sneem.  Kathie was up in the night with an infected blister on her big toe.  When she said she couldn’t walk the trail that morning, you could have knocked me over with a feather.  Rather than Kathleen walk by herself, we all three caught a ride with Patrick to Sneem.  We stopped along the way to see Staigue Fort, a defensive ringfort thought to have been built by some local lord or king back in the 4th century AD.  Below, Kathleen and I inside Staigue Fort.

In Sneem, we walked from our B&B, the Coomasig View, downtown, past a family of white sheep with one black sheep.  I guess there’s one in every family.

In a lovely little yarn store, I bought some wool yarn.  We visited a graveyard, where an English Lady Albina Broderick was buried.  She had moved to Ireland and started a hospital and school, and she wore raggedy clothes.  That’s all I know about her.  Here’s a plaque that tells her story.

Charleston isn’t the only town with a Rainbow Row, I guess.

Kathleen did a four hour hike by herself while Kathie and I had carrot and parsnip soup with salad at the Village Kitchen, followed by ice cream – Bailey’s Cream for Kathie and rum with raisin for me.  You just can’t find that kind of stuff around Charleston.

At the “chemist”, we bought some foot pad stuff and then walked home.  Along the way, we passed this house that we thought was pretty nifty.

Kathie soaked her feet while I wrote notes and napped.  Then we went out for dinner at Sacré Coeur Restaurant.  We would NOT be losing weight on this trip, no sirree, Bob.

Waterville to Caherdaniel - Not Walking but Not Idle, Either...

So on Friday, 8/19/11, I caught a ride with our hostess’s husband to our next night’s lodging.  Along the way, my very pleasant driver and I chatted quite a bit.  He asked what we think of Obama in the U.S.  It’s always interesting to hear an outsider’s point of view on the US.

At the family-friendly Derrynane Hotel in Caherdaniel, I settled in and then tried to walk over to the village but went the wrong way.  I turned around to go the right way, but it was raining and the wind was blowing so hard that I gave up and went in to do laundry instead.  Get this – there’s no fee to use the laundry and the hotel even provides detergent!  The downside was the washer takes an hour and a half to do a load.  Still, you wouldn’t find that in the States.

I had some French onion soup for lunch in the window-walled lunch room/bar.  I even had a scone so I could linger a bit and enjoy my view of the ocean and outdoor pool.  When I couldn’t justify dillydallying any further, I checked out the sauna and steam room for use later, then went outside to try walking to the village again.  I hadn’t left the drive before meeting Kathleen and Kathie arriving from their day’s walk.  They looked like drowned rats.

While they settled, I finished up laundry.  Outside, the day turned sunny and beautiful.  We went outside to take some pics of the rocks and surf.  Joan, see that heart-shaped rock formation in the pic below?  I took that photo just for you!

Our dinner in the hotel’s dining room consisted of some very nice salmon and profiteroles.  Yum!  Of course, that all had to be followed by some basking in the sauna – or was that before dinner?  Or did we do it at all?  That’s the trouble with waiting two years to write up a vacation.

Thursday, 8/18/11, Cahersiveen to Waterville – Kinda Whiny on the Ring of Kerry.

Along with her new hubby, my Kelly will be taking off soon for a honeymoon in Scotland and Ireland.  Sweet!  Love both of those places, although that last walk in Ireland was a toughie.  I was inspired by Joan’s recent visit to Iceland to finish up the tale of our visit there; let’s see if I can finish up the account of our Ireland walk in August 2011.

The first day was a very long day but my energy didn’t flag.  It did, however, on the following day – perhaps because I was plum tuckered out from Wednesday.  So for me, Thursday was nine and half hours of muck and rock, gazillions of stiles to climb over, terrible directions, and cursing and blaspheming.  It occurred to me several times that I should not have come along on this walk with Kathie and Kathleen.

(For whatever reason, I posted the photos I took on Thursday with Wednesday’s account.  Guess that shows how closely Kathie reads my blogposts.  Sigh.  Here are some of Kathie’s pics from Thursday.)

BTW, cows are intimidated by the hands-on-your-hip stance.  Trust me, I have experience with this.

We arrived in Waterville after 7 p.m., had a bite at the Lobster Bar, and called our B&B for a pick-up.  Who picked us up but Anne, our Glenbeigh B&B’s hostess and sister of this evening’s hostess at the Golf Links View B&B?  Small world.

That evening, I noticed a blister growing under the edge of the nail on my left foot’s second toe.  What???  ARRRRGGGHHHH.  What a pain…literally.  If that baby popped while we were slogging through all that boggy muck, I would get a nasty infection.  Kathie took one look at it and suggested I take a cab the next day.  Damn.  She was right though.  

So, Kath, feel free to jump in any time here with your account of what happened over the next two days of walking with Kathleen.  I was MIA.