Saturday April 28th marked the half-way point in our vacation in Ireland. It would be the day that we transition from County Kerry (Tralee) to County Galway (Recess). The AA Ireland route planner had the direct route mapped at roughly 160 miles and…Read More

Saturday April 28th marked the half-way point in our vacation in Ireland. It would be the day that we transition from County Kerry (Tralee) to County Galway (Recess). The AA Ireland route planner had the direct route mapped at roughly 160 miles and just under 4 hours. This would be the day that would make the most sense, taking the detour to self-drive the Dingle Peninsula and perhaps part of the Slea Head if the weather looked decent. With the absence of significant cloud cover and rain, we did take advantage of our location and added the extra miles (approximately 75 miles) and time (2 hours) so that we could see what many say is the best driving tour in all of Ireland.

Jutting 30 miles into the Atlantic Ocean, the Dingle Peninsula is known not only for the rich farmland and vast ocean-side views, but also for the number of archeological and historical sites dating back to the Mesolithic Period (8000-4000 BC). There have been excavation digs that have uncovered evidence of man's life here as farmers living off the land. The earliest remains of cows have been found here and dated to more than 5,700 years ago . . . the earliest found anywhere in Ireland.

Read more about Dingle Peninsula's 6,000 years of history here: http://www.dingle-peninsula.ie/history.html .

This is one area of Ireland that to really do it justice you need at least a couple of days to get out and actually explore. Many will stay in Dingle for several days in order to see as much as possible. Doing it as we did, a driving day tour essentially from one place to the next only provides the scratch of the surface, namely the beautiful views that surround you. To learn about the rich history here, more effort is required. For us, it was about the views on that day and of course getting to our timeshare cottage at a decent time before nightfall.

The harbor town of Dingle was hustling with the weekend traffic of locals and tourists. It is also a place where people visiting Ireland often spend a full day enjoying all that is to be found there. Her history goes back to the 12th century, with Dingle becoming a main shipping port of Ireland by the 1500's with a number of goods being shipped to Europe while importing a significant amount of wine coming in from there.

We cruised on through Dingle and headed on towards the Slea Head, a drive that has been reported as being the most harrowing in all of Ireland. After roughly ten miles, we surely knew why!

The views along the Slea Head often included the Basket Islands, a popular destination that is accessible by boat. Today uninhabited by humans in the 1950's, the islands have remained the inspiration for writers and artists from around the world.

Once we reached the the Slea Head Cafe, we stopped for a bathroom break, beverages and some window shopping. It was a challenge to convince Ellie to not make an Aran Sweater purchase there as they were about half the price of what she saw earlier in our trip . . . but still more expensive than I expected them to be when we visited Inis Mor a few days later. (Her trust and patience paid off as she got two beautiful Aran sweaters in Inis Mor for little more than what one would have cost her at Slea Head.)

Heading back down the ocean-side mountain road, we stopped so that I could take some photos of an interesting creek that came down from high above, crossed the roadway and continued down to the Atlantic Ocean. Thankfully there was a convenient turnout for David to pull the car into. Five minutes later, however, a large motor coach bus came up the hill and needed the turnout to navigate the near hair-pin turn. Also about that time arrived a cyclist who just wheeling through with no concerns. WHEW . . . I was nervous for him!

After completely the drive back down to Dingle, we headed up the other side of the peninsula crossing over Conor Pass. We stopped at the summit for photos; David and Ellie stayed in the car. It was amazing that the air temperatures had dropped nearly by more than ten degrees Celsius from the bottom (Dingle) and the top (Conor Pass). On the Dingle side of the parking lot, the winds were relatively calm but just a few yards to the right at the Tralee side, they literally took my breath away. On this now overcast late morning, the views were marginal but still awe inspiring.

We headed down from Conor Pass back towards Tralee. It was through this area that we had to navigate narrow roads (mostly two unmarked lanes) that often included sheep. At one point we came around the bend in the road to see a ewe with two young lambs. She stopped so as to protect them on the shoulder, only to have one come back up into the road to nurse. Definitely an "AWWWW" moment.

Beyond that our next stop along our ride was at shoreline of Brandon Bay were we ventured down a non-exist road and even baja'ed on the sandy beach. I wonder what Thrifty Car Rental will think about that?

Shortly thereafter we were take in Tralee and officially off the Dingle Peninsula. It was a nice drive to see a part of Ireland that looked very different that the other places we had been or had yet to see. I'm very glad we took the extra time to take a look even if we didn't get to learn more about the area during our visit.   Close

We drive from Ardfert through the agricultural land of Kerry, past Tralee, and towards Dingle peninsula, past the very picturesque Blennerville Windmill and through the eastern part of Dingle itself, towards Cloghane, a small village sitting in the shadow of Mt Brandon, by the Brandon…Read More

We drive from Ardfert through the agricultural land of Kerry, past Tralee, and towards Dingle peninsula, past the very picturesque Blennerville Windmill and through the eastern part of Dingle itself, towards Cloghane, a small village sitting in the shadow of Mt Brandon, by the Brandon Bay.

The landscape gets wilder and more attractive as we leave the main road through Dingle (which isn't particularly busy anyway) and get into the maze of country lanes and almost-single-track roads that eventually lead us to our destination.

Cloghane is a small village near what it feels like the end of the road (though, as we find later, the road does continue towards Ballyquin and Brandon further north. Mt Brandon (named after St Brendan, who supposedly climbed to the top for a look before he sailed forth to Avalon - or America) is a favourite with hill walkers and the nearby beaches offer surfing and fishing.

The village itself is a sleepy little place, with a few pubs and a few B&B's and seems like a good place to get away from everything. The hostel we are staying in (Mt Brandon Hostel) even offers shiatsu and other alternative spa type treatments!

There are some tourists around, but mostly organized groups of older people and by 9.30pm this evening we will be the only customers in one of the pubs.

The sky is clearing a bit and we drive on towards the sister village of Brandon and past it, to the very end of the road. The information board at the car park mentions that the Chough, a rare bird mostly extinct in Britain, can be found here, ad we do indeed see some of the characteristic black birds with red feet and red beak as we climb up the roadside cliff.

It's a nice little walk at first, with bracing wind but not too cold and wonderful views north and east to Tralee bay and the green rolling hills of Dingle. Down below, the waves crash against the rocks while the wind starts to threaten to blow us off the clifftop. When the rain starts again, we turn back.

Next day we drive across the peninsula to Dingle town. The route leads through the famous Connor Pass, 1,300 feet above the sea level. It's a bit of a nerve-racking experience as the road is narrow, steep, and full of blind bends, with a rock face rising to one side and a sheer drop on the other, in places hardly any room for two cars to pass. It's raining again and the water runs across the road adding to the precariousness of the journey.

The landscape is dramatic and sombre as we climb up, with not much but black rock and green scrub, looking even more desolate in the rain and wind.

The views from the top are worth it, though. There is a large parking area and some information boards at the pass. We emerge from the car despite the driving rain and gale-force wind (it's strong enough to make the car sway) and admire the vistas. To the north, towards Brandon Bay the sky is dark and overcast with low clouds, and only the shape of the mountain is discernible in the mist. To the south the sky is clearing below the pass, and we can see radiantly green hills gently rolling down, and a silver-blue sea gleaming brightly in the sun.

We get back in the car and drive down slightly less precipitous road towards the coast and the town of Dingle.

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We drive away from Slea Head full of views, dizzy with wind and slightly burned with the sun. The road leads north now, past the trio of raised headlands known as Three Sisters and another, even higher one, called Sybil Head. It's a landscape that's…Read More

We drive away from Slea Head full of views, dizzy with wind and slightly burned with the sun. The road leads north now, past the trio of raised headlands known as Three Sisters and another, even higher one, called Sybil Head. It's a landscape that's wild and open, with a strange kind of ruggedness which combines harsh, dramatic tones with something altogether softer and more fluid - it might be all that green, or it might be the faerie magic starting to work on me. Yes, it still reminds me of Scotland, but it's also imperceptibly different - possibly more people-friendly, after all, possibly more saturated with human history as well as effects of natural forces.

We stop for a pleasant cup of coffee in a rather swanky, modern cafe and restaurant (apparently we can't have anything to eat as it's too late for lunch and too early for dinner) and after stopping for a look and a photo opportunity with some cute, round and friendly, conker-brown ponies with golden manes and tails, we drive in in search of the night's lodgings.

We find it just down the road, at Ceann Sibeal B&B.

The B and B, named after Gaelic for Sybil Head lies between the headland it's named named after and a the massif of Croaghmartin (Cruach Mharthain). A pale-yellow painted house, standing on its own by the side of the road, it's a comfortable and friendly place.

The whole western part of Dingle is Gaeltacht area (where Gaelic is officially recognised and thought) and and the owner of Ceann Sibeal, Aine, who in addition to running the B&B is a Gaelic native speaker and teaches the language locally, was a mine of fascinating information about the area in general and Gaelic in particular.

Apparently, this area has produced a number of notable Gaelic authors and poets, the storytellers O Siochfhradha and Peig Sayers among others.

In the evening, we go for a walk towards the sea - it's not very far, and after negotiating some filed paths we get to the shore. There is a small concrete jetty down the steep path, but we stay on top of the cliff (it's not very high here) and, in the grey and blue light of dusk, look at the ocean crashing against the land, roaring in the bays, splashing through holes in the ground under our feet, boiling in white foam by the sharp-cragged rocks further out in the bay.

It's a strangely humbling experience, sitting here at the very edge of the land, with thousands of miles between us and the next piece of land. The night sets, the rocks grow darker, the roar of the sea louder. I have a sudden impulse to make a fire, but as it's not really a practical option, we go back and return to modern beds in a comfortable B&B.
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Dingle peninsula is located in County Kerry in the west of Ireland and its tip is the most westerly point of Ireland. The main settlement of the peninsula is the town of Dingle, a picturesque fishing port and a centre of tourist trade for the…Read More

Dingle peninsula is located in County Kerry in the west of Ireland and its tip is the most westerly point of Ireland. The main settlement of the peninsula is the town of Dingle, a picturesque fishing port and a centre of tourist trade for the whole region.

We spend a pleasant couple of hours walking around Dingle's harbour and nearby streets: there are prettily painted cottages, gift and craft shops, pubs and fish and chip places galore; and the seafront boasts a brass statue of dolphin Fungie: a Bottlenose Dolphin which choose to make Dingle Harbour his home. He is possibly the most famous inhabitant of Dingle and boating trips are organised to see him - as some dolphins are apparently wont to do, he likes playing around with the boats and swimmers who participate in the boat trips.

Despite it being June, the weather isn't very conducive to swimming or taking small boats out, and we set off on what is known as a Slea Head drive, Dingle's answer to the Ring of Kerry, a circular drive around the most dramatic, picturesque and attractive part of the peninsula.

I have to admit that for somebody coming from Scotland, the attraction of the western coast of Ireland is not as overwhelming as it might be for people coming from other locations. Yes, it's very beautiful, and in places quite dramatic - and facing the open Atlantic is rather bracing - but it's not really any more impressive that the western coast of Scotland, or even some parts of Wales. I suspect a lot of the fame of western Ireland is a result of tourist trade catering for Americans (the area suffered a very heavily during the Famine and the emigration was huge) visiting looking for their roots, romance of Ireland and generally quaintness of rural Europe. Multiple references in tourist information to films like "Far and Away" (the insufferable Tom Cruise epic) and similar productions seem to confirm my intuitions.

Still, it IS a beautiful area, and what makes it more interesting is the wealth of historical and prehistoric remains in which it abounds.

We took the drive in the clockwise direction, starting at Dingle and moving west towards the Slea Head. It was the first (and only) almost entirely sunny day of our trip and, as the road runs very near the sea, the views we had were spectacular: sheer drop of the cliff to the left, and the green, green hills of Dingle to the right. The air is fresh, the wind bracing, and the sun makes the ocean gleam silver and pale blue, with waves crashing against the rocks in the furry of white froth.

We stop at several places on the way before we reach the Slea Head itself.

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The weird and wonderful Celtic and Prehistoric Museum at Kilvicadownig is the first private museum I have ever been to, and a quirky and rather delightful one at that.

The little museum houses a private collection of Harris Moore which comprises a rather motley but fascinating gathering of objects: from the piece de resistance of of the collection, a 40,000 year old and pretty intact mammoth skull to a good selection of other fossils, cases full of flint tools, numerous bronze ornaments, weapons and similar objects, mostly from Europe (and many of Celtic origins).

The presentation is pretty good, in attractive rooms and carefully lit presentation cases, but as a whole it reminded me of a collection a Victorian dilettante gentleman explorer might have gathered in his travels.

It's not a major attraction and probably not worth any detours, but if you are travelling this way, pop in for a look around - the mammoth itself is probably worth the entry fee.


**

The Dunbeg Promontory Fort and Visitor Centre, is located at a spectacular site near Fahan, metres away from the sheer drop of the cliff. The fort dates as far back as the late Bronze Age, around 800 BC, but the site was used up to the 10th century. Surprisingly, even extensive excavations did not make it clear what the fort was used for: defensive construction or look-out is an obvious possibility, but it may have been simply a fortified village where people lived.

There are earthworks and stone walls to explore, as well as some small stone and earth chambers - the entrance is through a short, low corridor (most adults would need to duck) and the site has a strong atmosphere of ancient, possibly scared location.

There is a small visitors' centre, where a (not very informative) film about the excavations and the possible history of the fort is shown.

**

The Famine Cottages are just up the hill from the Dunbeg fort and are a poignant reminder of much more recent part of Irish history. Essentially, several ramshackle buildings kept in a state similar to what it would be like in the 19th century, the exhibition has a few original objects that would have been used by the family trying to eke out the living at this rocky mountainside, several life-size figures depicting how the original inhabitants might have looked like and printed information on life in Dingle during and around the time of Famine. There are also family records which make you realise the true toll of the living conditions (and the impact of the famine itself). Most children died in infancy, and many people emigrated. The squalor and extreme poverty is evident in the displays, and the descriptions of the famine years are heart wrenching.

The whole exhibition has a distinctly amateurish feel to it, but for some reason it doesn't matter - perhaps it fist the subject better than a high-tech, high gloss displays would.


**


Thus educated and amused, we continue along the Dingle coastal road towards the Slea Head itself. As we approach the turn of the road, the view opens towards the treacherous Blasket Sound and the Blasket Islands. There are boat trips to the islands, but we don't have time for a trip as it's getting towards the late afternoon now.

We park at what seems to be the very end of the road, or rather where it curves around an exposed headland. The hillside rises above us, a white house higher up gleaming in the sun on the green background. Below is a small beach, battered by huge Atlantic waves, their force filling ears with a continuous roaring sound, and from the beach a steep path leads - we hope - to the very end of the headland. We trundle up, on slippery grass and then along the cliff-side path, occasionally having to hug the rock in a rather precarious way. At some point, I give up and stay on the path while DH continues in what seems to be a gale-force wind now, along not-a-path leading down to the very edge of the land, where white water is boiling around the rocks below.

DH survives and we have a little picnic among the rocks, the grass (and a lot of sheep poo) while listening to the roar of the sea and looking at the Blaskets in the distance, glimmering in the sun and wind, unreal, magical. No wonder they thought up the legend of St Brendan here.


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We arrive at Shannon airport in the early evening: it's raining, as one would expect of Ireland, and we have tonight's lodging to find, so we drive off quickly. I brought my GPS as it has Ireland maps in addition to UK, and it seems…Read More

We arrive at Shannon airport in the early evening: it's raining, as one would expect of Ireland, and we have tonight's lodging to find, so we drive off quickly. I brought my GPS as it has Ireland maps in addition to UK, and it seems to direct us to a car ferry, but we decide to drive round via Limerick instead. We booked a night at the B&B at the Castle View House B&B, on Carrig Island.

The roads seem quiet and empty, even after rural Scotland where we live, and eventually we manage to find our destination.

Carrig Island lies near the mouth of Shannon and a small village of Ballylongford, and is accessible through a narrow bridge over a shallow lagoon (or maybe just a bog). We are welcomed by the proprietors once we manage to find the place, and before going to sleep we go for a walk (it's not raining for the moment). It's June - in fact, it's 23rd of June, a day or two after the summer solstice and even after 10pm you can still see quite well.

Once we are away from the house, it becomes totally quiet, with the quietness you only get in the most remote countryside. There might be a bark of a dog, occasionally, or an owl's hoot, but there is no traffic, no machinery of any kind. We can still see the castle (the B&B is named very aptly, it seems), across the expanse of the water, a craggy block delineated clearly against the darkening sky, with a large

Next morning, we get fed (the full Irish breakfast is good, but not as good as the Full Scottish one!) and then go and see the castle after which the B&B is named.

Carrigafoyle Castle is a tower house built from small, even pieces limestone. The tower was protected by two square bawns, extending into the water and incorporating a small dock, which enabled the boats to sail right up to the castle. The tower has five levels and raises to over 25 metres in height. There are vaults over the second and fourth floors, with pointed arch clearly visible.

The castle was built by the O'Connors of Kerry and dates from 1490. It's strategic position allowed it to guard, or as it may be, rob, the shipping on the Shannon. The castle was a subject to siege in 1580, during the time of The Second Desmond rebellion and fell, with all the inhabitants and defenders massacred by the English.

It's a pretty good castle, well preserved and in many other locations it would be a principal tourist attraction. As it was, we had the castle to ourselves and spend an interesting hour exploring the building. There are stairs leading to the battlements and great views towards Carrig Island and the Shannon estuary.
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Saturday, July 1st: The Evil Cyclists!We were off early this morning to do the much famed and oft times maligned Ring of Kerry. We determined that we had no problem being behind tour busses, but would rather not have to pass them on narrow, windy…Read More

Saturday, July 1st: The Evil Cyclists!


We were off early this morning to do the much famed and oft times maligned Ring of Kerry. We determined that we had no problem being behind tour busses, but would rather not have to pass them on narrow, windy roads, so we would go the same direction they tended to go - counter-clockwise. I don't know if that was a good idea.

T's card wasn't completed yet at the photo store in Killarney, so he told her he'd leave it at the pub across the street if we got there after he closed. Such trust! She hadn't even paid him yet!

We went through Kilgorlin, and off to Glenbeigh. Going through Glenbeigh, though, we saw our first glimpse of driving hell - a huge group of cyclists getting ready to do some sort of charity run. In our direction.

Yes, we found out that we were lucky enough, privileged enough, to be driving the Ring of Kerry along with about 5,000 cyclists, all for the 23rd Annual Volunteer Charity Bike Run. Several different charities were represented, and the bikers had one thing in common. They took over the whole road. No wimpy sticking-to-the-left-bike-lane for these yahoos! No, they rode 3 or 4 abreast, so any driver who had the sheer audacity to want to go more than 5 miles per hour would have to pass them. And then the next group, 20 yards ahead of them. And the next group. And the next group. All on small, windy roads with cars coming the other way.

We had gotten a recommendation from Tim the pony cart driver to try Rossbeigh beach, but we didn't want to risk getting behind all the cyclists again. We foolishly assumed they had just recently started out. Oh, the wee poor mortals we are. They had evidently been starting in groups for hours!

This continued all the way through what would otherwise have been a lovely and relaxing drive. The constant need to watch the cyclists and attempt to make hair-raising passes made it nerve-wracking and dangerous. It continued on through to Cahersiveen, when we decided we'd had enough, and took a detour down to Portmagee and the Skelligs Visitor Centre. We drove up to Bray Head on Valentia Island and walked up - but not too far, as it was very cold and windy. Not really rainy, just a soft sort of mist, but cloudy and therefore cold.

We went back into Portmagee and made our way around St. Finian's Bay. What a beautiful area! We sat and admired the view on the beach, and the dead seal on it. We went on to Ballinskellig for lunch at Cable O'Grady's. It was very relaxing at the table near the back patio door, but a bit chilly. The sun finally came out and therefore everyone was enjoying the patio - including the adorable canines (a golden retriever and a spaniel) that helped themselves to the food the children deemed unsuitable to eat.

I had the mushroom soup and shrimp sandwich. The soup was incredibly good, the sandwich was ok. K had the chicken curry (no veggies, all meat) and T had chicken fingers. I don't know if it was my lingering malaise that kept me from feeling great or the shrimp sandwich, but as we went on to the Ballinskelligs Friary, I was really not doing well. The beach was beautiful but cold, and we wandered around the Friary looking all around us at the seashore.

Eventually we made it to Waterville and up Coomakesta Pass. This pass wasn't nearly as scary as Conor's Pass! We looked out at Sheehan's Point, and the view was once again incredible. I don't know if I could choose which was more beautiful, Kerry or Dingle, but at that moment I would have chosen Kerry.

On to Caherdaniel, where I took a picture similar to one I had taken my last trip, four years ago. The land and the sea kissed in a perfectly symmetrical pattern, blue to green, like Yin and Yang. We went through Castlecove and up to Staigue Fort, but I was really not feeling well, so K and T went on up to the fort to explore while I availed myself of the local facilities (luckily fairly new and spacious). The defensive location of the Fort doesn't look great until you actually reach it and realize you can see all the way to the bay on the coast from there.

We went through Sneem and Tahilla, and headed over Blackwater Bridge, looking for the Strawberry Field's pancake house. We went through Derreenarragh, and asked for directions there - we were on the right path! Now, the question was, would we get there before the magic universal closing time of 6pm? Yes, we could, woohoo!!! We got there 15 minutes before closing, and had T's much-anticipated afternoon tea with delightful, delicious, delectible crepes. We got several types of tea to share - Strawberry Vanilla, Blackcurrant, and Peppermint Tea. I ordered a lemon/honey crepe, K had a blackberry and crème crepe, while T had banana and chocolate chip. I think the owner's daughter was the delightful young girl who helped serve us - she was very earnest. There was art on the walls for sale by local artists, which lent the place a bit of flare. There was also a garden centre upstairs. Definitely a place I'll recommend. I can still taste those crepes melting in my mouth… mmmmmmmmm.


On the way back we passed by Knocklomena Mountain, which T said she officially adopted as her own. She just really liked it. It was near Barfahinny Lake --- what a funny name!

We went towards Moll's Gap, and I began to fear we were doing another Conor's Pass, but it was MUCH easier. We found ourselves on the upside of Ladies' View again, and started running into more cyclists, evidently the last stragglers of the charity ride. We were so glad that our detour removed us from the thick of them!

Tom was waiting at the pub across the street to get T her CD. He wanted to make sure she got it alright, which was very kind. He said he didn't feel right leaving it since it had her memory card in it as well. We drove towards home and tried to find An Shrone, an old site where they believe the first settlers in Ireland lived. Now, one of my fellow travelers gave me excellent maps to the place, but of course I had forgotten them at home (stupid me), so we saw a sign, went down a very steep valley into a farm, and turned around - asked directions, and tried again, only to come to the conclusion that once again, the Irish were having a joke on us. We never did find An Shrone, though we wandered around the area a bit. We did find the road to our farmhouse by accident, as it connected with the road we had gone down. Imagine that!

After a day of misdirection, evil cyclists and getting lost multiple times, K and I drowned our frustrations in some cider we had bought earlier, and relaxed to some more inexplicable 'Big Game TV'.

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Friday, June 30th: Pony traps and tourist trapsToday we had leftovers for breakfast and headed off towards Killarney National Park.We got into Killarney with no problem, but had to make about 3 U-turns trying to find Muckross House and Gardens. Each time we saw a…Read More

Friday, June 30th: Pony traps and tourist traps

Today we had leftovers for breakfast and headed off towards Killarney National Park.

We got into Killarney with no problem, but had to make about 3 U-turns trying to find Muckross House and Gardens. Each time we saw a sign, it led us in a different direction. I know that means there's more than one way to a place, but it got downright confusticating! Finally we found our way in, and found Ross Castle first. We decided not to go inside, as the outside seemed much more interesting. It looked out across some of the lakes, and there were swans swimming by, very beautiful. We met the local owner (a calico cat) and paid our required obeisance to him before we took our royal leave.

We went on to Muckross House, and decided to do the touristy thing and rent a pony trap or cart. This was one of the two-wheel jobs, and getting on it was SO much fun for three fat girls. The poor horse was named Rosie, and our driver was Hugh, spelled H-U-G-H. (he was very emphatic about spelling many things). While it was certainly better than walking the long road to the house, the monologue he gave was monotone and repetitive. I could truly believe his claim to have been doing this for 20 years - and likely never changed the spiel. He pointed out the Lime Trees (not the kind that give fruit, mind you, ladies) on the right and the Yew (that's Y-E-W) on the left, and there in front of us was Torc Mountain (that's T-O-R-C) which was 1256 feet tall, that's 1-2-5-6 feet tall, yes, and on the left are some more Lime Trees (not the kind that give fruit).

His monologue went on, seemingly without breath or brain activity to slow it down. We tried hard not to giggle too loudly at it!

Soon we came into sight of Muckross House itself, in it's glory. The façade was impressive, and we saw all the pony carts off to the side, awaiting their return burdens. Inside we discovered an advertisement for the OPW (Office of Public Works) card, and decided it was definitely a bargain. It was E21, and covered many entrance fees (not all) to various sites. We later saved about E40 total using it, so it was definitely worth it. We could have saved more if we had purchased it earlier.

The interior was very lush and opulent, though we weren't allowed to take photographs of it. The carving on the wood furniture alone was impressive, as were the paintings and the wallpapers. The line of bells to summon servants were great, right next to the wine cellar. Best of all, though, was the kitchen, with shining copper pots and scullery.

We trundled back to the pony cart for the ride back to the road, and it sounded like the exact same spiel we heard on the way in, just reversed. 'And there is Torc Mountain, spelled T-O-R-C, which is 1256 feet tall, that's 1-2-5-6.'

We went on up to Ladies' View, and did some shopping in the Tourist Trap store there. The view was absolutely stunning, you could see layers of landscape; lakes, trees, mountains and hills, set up like a Bob Ross Painting in front of us. We had some snacks at the café, including potato and leek soup (that winter dish!), and a ham & cheese sandwich.

After taking in the gorgeous view a bit more, we headed back down the pass, riding the clutch all the way. We stopped at the sign for Lord Brandon's Cottage, and started to walk down the path. At the small river, I turned back and went to the car, as I wasn't feeling well again. K and T kept going… and going… and going. When I looked back at the map, the cottage was VERY far along the path, and they even went past it and over some wall. It was quite a hike!

Since we had heard so much about the T-O-R-C Mountain, our next stop was T-O-R-C Waterfall. It was a short but steep walk up to the top, only to find a horde of American tourists climbing all over the rocks, yelling and laughing. I'm glad they were having a great time, but it totally shattered any peace or serenity of the site, and made it impossible to get good pictures.

Once back into Killarney proper, we found a shop to put T's photo's on CD (right across from Danny Mann's, I think). They guy was very helpful and made sure they were done right. We went to check our email at a nearby internet café, but K's Earthlink site wouldn't come up - evidently that's normal for them. Going back to the photo place, the guy (Tim?) couldn't get the larger card to read, so he asked if he could do so overnight off-site. We said we'd be back tomorrow to pick it up. Since T was still interested in 'afternoon tea', we asked if there was anyplace nearby. He suggested 'Jams' around the corner, but it looked more like a cafeteria than a place for a gentile, time-honored tradition.

We went on to the Gap of Dunloe, where we were planning on meeting fellow travelers from www.fodors.com, B and her family, that evening. We got lost several times trying to get OUT of Killarney in the correct direction, but finally found it by heading to Kilgorlin. We drove up the narrow road and found Kate Kearney's Cottage. It was about 4pm, which was WAY too early for our 9pm meeting, so we talked to some folks about taking a jaunting cart (might as well try again, it couldn't be worse than the first guy!) up the gap.

We so lucked out! We got Tim O'Connell, and his horse Harry. T and I took the cart, but they made K nervous, so she opted to ride another of Tim's horses, Susie. It was a great trip! Tim was very chatty, and incredibly nice. He lived in the gap, as did most of his family, and he'd been doing this most of his life. He owned five horses, and his father and grandfather had been doing this as well. We passed his grandmother's cottage, which was called 'Colleen Brawn'. In Irish, (spelled caillin bean) it means White Lady, which is an old term for a witch or a healer.

K had fun staying on the English saddle (no pommel to hold on to!), and she had several conversations with Susie about where she wanted to go. Eventually she won the conversations, but it was iffy for a while, especially as Susie passed her home. It was a fabulous trip, and the visions and company were both incredible.

When we got back, we remember we had two apples in the car, so we went to fetch those for our hardworking horses. Then we went in to Kate Kearney's for some touristy shopping and music, pints and dinner.

I had the smoked salmon with capers, which was fabulous. K had the bacon and cabbage, while T tried the Irish stew. I had a sticky toffee pudding for dessert, and oh, my god! It was divine!!

The music started up around 8:15, and we finally heard some traditional music, as well as some other stuff. We heard Raggle Taggle Gypsies, Seven Nights Drunk, a couple Riverdance tunes, Down to the Sally Garden, and some Irish Stepdancers performed as part of the show. It was touristy, but it was fun.

B and her family showed up around 9pm, and we met her husband and mother, who were following the opposite track we were - they were headed where we had just been, and vice versa. We exchanged recommendations and advices, had a couple drinks, and left around 10 as the pub closed down. It was an easy drive home and we watched some TV (Fletch) and off to slumberland. Oh, and we saw a lovely double rainbow from our front door!

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Thursday, June 29th: Daring Dingle DervishesWe woke up early and broke our fast with a feast. Smoked salmon, cheeses, brown bread, scones and apples filled our plates and our tummies. We went through Killarney to Tralee, and off to Conor's Pass. It was a very…Read More

Thursday, June 29th: Daring Dingle Dervishes

We woke up early and broke our fast with a feast. Smoked salmon, cheeses, brown bread, scones and apples filled our plates and our tummies. We went through Killarney to Tralee, and off to Conor's Pass. It was a very misty, drizzly day, with patches of rare sunshine burning through the fog.

The trip through Conor's Pass from the north is not for the faint of heart, nor for those afraid of heights. We chose this direction because we were on the inside (left) of the road, hugging the mountain on the way up. However, we discovered this mattered naught, as the road is only one lane most of the way up. Switchbacks is such an inadequate term for the snake of a road we climbed, without benefit of any view of what we could be tumbling down. We made the entire trip up in first and second gear.

And at the top, what did we get for our heroic efforts? NOTHING! That's right - there was so much rain, mist, and cold wind that we saw nothing of the promised fantastic vistas of the valley below. We saw the statue, and the line of rock heading down but that's it.

Heading down towards Dingle, the road was much wider, and obviously recently improved. This must be the side the buses take up, as I cannot imagine them daring the other side.

We did take a wrong turn at one point, and drove through an area that must be the stinkiest area of Dingle - it was as if all the refuse of every type of animal had been mixed, concentrated, and dumped in a pile of more refuse. We turned around and had to go through it again to get to the main road, and into Ballynana. We were headed towards the Gallerus Oratory.

This site was very cool - it was anywhere from 1200 to 900 years old, corbeled construction with no mortar. Even with the misty rains all morning, there was no dampness inside.

It started clearing up as we got towards Ballyferriter for lunch. We stopped at Ostan Cheann Sibeal; K had lamb stew, I had mutton pie, and T had vegetable soup, which was terrible. It tasted burnt, and she returned it for something else. The pie was alright, though not incredible.

We saw a Jack Russell Terrier who considered it his right, duty and privilege to chase each car as it drove through, and an old black Labrador Retriever who found such energetic pursuits the height of folly. We also sat next to a very nice family from Bristol, England named the Kelly's.

We drove along the seaside roads and reveled in the crystal clear waters of the Atlantic Ocean. The rolling hills and walls of stone made the vista seem out of time and space. We felt transported to another world, another age.

We came across the Blasket Island Centre, and decided to go in for a visit. This was in Dunquin, and T finally found a book on Irish Castles she was looking for as a gift. We really enjoyed the poignant film about the residents of this lonely island, complete with their own legends, stories and kings. The presentation put on in the Centre was wonderful, informative, and moving.

We stopped by to greet a small pony and her foal on the way out, and saw a sheep standing on one of the ever-present stone walls, gazing over all she surveyed, as if to say "I am the sheep of the mountain! None shall pass!" Farther down we saw a goat doing his level best to be just as regal, also standing on his stone wall.

Dunmore Head was one of the more incredible views I have ever seen in my life. We could see the small, sandy beach below us, and a surfer trying very hard to catch the small waves coming in. Such a sunny day but with gentle winds, he was trying in vain. The Blasket Islands were clear and omnipresent in the distance.

On to the famed Slea Head. There was a small parking lot filled with tourists gazing out at the cerulean ocean, and the weather couldn't have been finer for this. One older gentleman was sitting on the edge, in a break in the fence, making K very nervous. She thought he was going to fall over the cliff, not realizing there was a walkway just under the edge where she couldn't see. When I mentioned her concerns to him, he said 'normally I have to walk on water to make someone that nervous!' He told us about his hometown in England, where Sir Frances Drake was born, and we almost forgot to look at the incredible view. Almost! However, my photographer's bug would not be denied, and I finished up the memory card then and there.

We drove along a bit more, and came across a complex of beehive monastic huts, and their caretaker, Maire Hanrahan. She said she had inherited the job from her husband, whose family had been watching the place for generations. The nominal charge was E2, which we happily paid to wander among the ancient ruins, and argue with the sheep and goats that were now it's only residents.

We went on to Dunbeg Fort, but were experiencing a bit of overkill in the stone works department, so decided to pass on it and head on into Dingle, after waving to a donkey and her baby.

In Dingle we parked and went into O'Flaherty's to see if we could find something to eat. Another comedian, he suggested Cork. Wow, they must have fantastic food in Cork this time of year! In all seriousness, he sent us around the block to the Supervalue (we had to stock up on toilet paper for our farmhouse), and got a recommendation for dinner from the store clerk. She sent us up to Tir na Ri, a Chinese restaurant whose name means Land of the King in Gaelic. The hostess told us that the owner's name, Wong, meant King, so a little translation and there you had Tir na Ri.

T had pineapple/ginger chicken, K had roasted duck with broccoli, and I had beef satay. I have to say it was all incredibly good. Perhaps because I only eat at the cheap takeout Chinese restaurants at home, but I've always found the Chinese food in the UK and Ireland to be far superior to what I'm used to. We had some deserts, including chocolate fondue with fruit, profitileres (cream puffs) and fruit with meringue. Delicious, and highly recommended! The back dining room was more of a sun room, with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out on a tiny garden.

After dinner we waddled to our car and headed out. We thought about going up Conor's Pass again, to see the previously missed vista (and coming back down the wider side to Dingle) but we realized that it was getting late, and the clouds were already forming at the top - it would be an exercise in futility.

Back down we went and took the southern route back into Tralee. We saw lots of naked, shivering sheep (freshly shorn) and beautiful, quaint tiny tidy towns on the way back. We got a bit silly and started making some of the worst puns of the trip on the way. It was nearing 11pm when we got into Tralee and filled up the tank. It only took E38 to fill up, and with all the driving we were doing, we were surprised. The gas mileage is SO much better there!

We got on the road to Killarney and discovered the total blackness that roads can get at night. Much of it was new road still under construction, so there were no road markings - thus no way to tell where the edge was. The locals still got right on our tails though, so we pulled over to the left frequently to let them zoom on by. We did see two cars trying to race eachother, and figured we'd see them in a ditch farther down the road.

We finally made it to Rathmore, and up our surreal little farmhouse sheep track to home. Good thing we left the porch lights on, or we would never have found it in that complete stygian blackness! The road itself was claustrophobic, with tall hedges on either side and no light from the sky.

Settling in to some TV before sleep, we discovered that the Brits/Irish love to play game shows that you can call into. We found a channel called Big Game TV, which worked like Match Game. You had a clue, such as '____ line' and had to guess one of 10 answers. Not always the most obvious ones, but what the makers of the game thought were clever. Things like Underline and Walk the Line were rejected.    Close

Wednesday, June 28th: The two RathmoresAfter waking and our last prepared Full Irish Breakfast for a while, we said hello to the two Belgian girls dining and made our way out of Ennis. Marie had handed me the Federal Express package containing my missing credit…Read More

Wednesday, June 28th: The two Rathmores


After waking and our last prepared Full Irish Breakfast for a while, we said hello to the two Belgian girls dining and made our way out of Ennis. Marie had handed me the Federal Express package containing my missing credit and debit cards, so I was once again in business! I had had some cash when we arrived (E200) so hadn't been completely destitute, but I felt much better with credit power!

We drove around Limerick to Lough Gur, and found the standing stone circle before we found the visitor centre. There were baby cows milling around inside and out of the circle, which lent a rather surreal air to the place. Coins adorned an altar stone and it was a very intense place, in my opinion. I really liked the different stones and the trees surrounding the circle.

We drove around to the centre, and found an old burial passage tomb that used to house an old lady. It was very wild and grown over, covered in lichen and vines. The centre had a castle to one side of the entrance and crannog huts built as the centre itself. There were scores of children kayaking in the lake, and several folks walking or picnicing around the lovely grounds. The lake itself and the mountains surrounding were very picturesque, and for some reason I had to keep reminding myself that this was Ireland, not Wales. It reminded me of Snowdonia Park for some reason.

We tried to get to the castle but it is evidently private property, as a barn and farmhouse are built right next to it.

We drove towards Mallow, stopping in Kilmanock. We saw St. John's Castle, smack dab in the middle of the road - the road was actually built around it to avoid going through the arch. We stopped to visit a Dominican Friary, but it was closed for spraying. I presume that's spraying for bugs rather than, say, leprechauns.

We went into a nearby museum, where the kind lady told us where things were to see, and showed us a wonderful model of the city circa 1584.

We drove through Charleville and Buttevant, stopping for lunch at Margaret's Café there. T had Shepherd's Pie, while K had pork chops and I had a chicken/mushroom pie. We got scones to go for breakfast at our farmhouse the next morning.

We say Ballybeg church on our way to Mallow, unfortunately drenched in construction dust from a site just across the street. However, the church was a lovely old 13th century ruin with horses grazing in the field.

We arrived in Rathmore and stopped at a petrol station/grocery store for some food and supplies for our non-B&B accomodation for the next four days. We tried to find the Bridge Bar (the first landmark in our hostesses directions) but alas, we were in vain. We finally stopped and asked where it was, and was told there are two Rathmores, the second one is farther down the road. Well, why didn't we think of that? What an obvious answer!

In the second town we found the Bridge Bar, and drove down the street near it as per Mrs. Nagle's directions. We couldn't find her house, though, and stopped to ask a lady getting in her car. She thought it was on a different road, and gave us directions, but that wasn't a correct solution either. Finally we went back on the first road, and found two sweet old ladies out for a walk, and they directed us to it correctly. We found the key where it was hidden, as well as written directions to our farmhouse (it is a self-catering place) and drove there.

The directions said things like '1.5 km to the next turn' when it was really more like 3 km. We have determined to absolutely ignore any distance an Irish person actually gives, as they are never accurate. 5 minutes down the road is usually a half hour - 1.5 km is more like 3km. You get the idea.

Finally we found our farmhouse, called Molly's, situated on a sheep track with no name, on the side of a mountain. The driveway was gravel and very steep - we despaired of driving up it on the way out. The place was very charming, though, and well worth the effort. It was a two-story, two-bedroom place (two singles and a double). The one bathroom was downstairs, along with the country kitchen and living room. There was cable (glory be!) of a sort, and a wood stove heating unit to supplement the electrical one. Oh, and six matches.

The refrigerator wasn't on when we arrived, which peeved us some, as the landlady knew someone was coming. It took us a while to figure out the heating system, but there were good instructions. A map in and out of town would have been much more helpful, though!

We decided to see if we could get into a town by continuing on down the road, as the way in was long and convoluted. We were successful, and passed many farms and cow pastures. The road came out in the first Rathmore, near the edge (close to the second Rathmore), and was much shorter than the first route in, so we determined that this would be our normal way in and out, unless searching for adventure. The shorter route took about 20 minutes.

We went into the first Rathmore for some dinner, and found Cahill's. It was open, but he served no food, 'just misery'. When asked for a suggestion, he said 'Cork'. Lovely…

We headed into Barraduff and then Killarney, and walked around the College Street area, ending up in Murphy's for dinner. After ordering a Steak & Guinness pie, I decided to run to the pharmacy for some cough medicine (my cough from last week still wasn't going away). K ordered the lamb stew while T stuck with Minute Steak and some Potato & Leek Soup.

I wasn't out long, but when I got back, a strange man was in my chair. His name is Joe, and he decided to join us. He was… special. He kept repeating things over and over, in several different ways, but no new information. He did say that K was very pretty, and she shouldn't let anyone tell her otherwise. He was very keen on getting her phone number, so T put in the number to the Miami Police Department. The servers kept coming by and asking if everything was alright, eyeing the stranger oddly. Finally, one kind server got him up and off to catch his bus… we thanked her profusely! Sometimes I think we're too polite. The guy was a bit scary.

We finished our dinner, which was delicious. The servers said they didn't know the guy, but could see he was a little odd. We chatted with an American family coming out of the hotel next door, letting them know that their efforts to shop will likely be in vain, as it was past 7pm already. While we were talking, who happens to walk by but Joe? We pretended to be very interested in something in the other direction, and explained to our companions our sudden interest. They were kind enough to walk us to our car, but luckily Joe was gone. Yay!

Back at the farmhouse we watched an interesting show that turned out to be a production of 'The History of Tom Jones' as well as Highlander: Endgame.
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Dingle, in County Kerry, Ireland, is a colorful and welcoming town. The seafood is delicious, particularly the lobster; Brandon Creek is a great spot for buying some, if you can catch one of the local fishermen coming in after he has hauled up his lobster…Read More

Dingle, in County Kerry, Ireland, is a colorful and welcoming town. The seafood is delicious, particularly the lobster; Brandon Creek is a great spot for buying some, if you can catch one of the local fishermen coming in after he has hauled up his lobster pots. I was lucky enough to be taken out one afternoon to watch a fisherman and his nephew lay the pots; the looming cliffs from the perspective of the boat are truly magnificent. The pubs are also cozy, and of course, there’s no better way to enjoy them than sampling a pint of Guinness and chatting with the local patrons, many of whom speak Gaelic as their first language.

The peninsula itself is fantastic for walking, especially along the coast, where it rises dizzily high above the Atlantic and the black cliffs cascade down to the water, sometimes serene, sometimes thrashing and foamy.

Where I’m staying, at the Sojourn Arts and Recreation Center in Ballygaw, not far outside of Dingle, it is very easy to access the countryside. The farmers do not mind if you cross their fields and it is all very pastoral, with stone walls, high green grass, and sheep, marked on their hindquarters with various brash colors of spray paint, dotting the landscape. The views from Ballygaw are among the best, with the cliffs known as the Three Sisters rising in one direction and Mt. Brandon, named for a local saint, dominating another. The winter weather and the lighting can transform these views minute by minute, making it one of the best shows in town.

Prime beaches along the peninsula include Ventry Beach, Inch Beach, and Slea Head, the latter being among the most evocative places as the water rushes in and out between huge edifices of black basalt.

As one of the locals likes to say, “I suppose that’s all I’ll tell you this time.”   Close