Doing The Ring

We woke to overcast skies this morning, but decided to continue with our plans to “do the ring” today nevertheless, keeping fingers crossed that it might brighten up later.

But for the time being, the main brightness was in the glorious hydrangeas which line the driveway to our hotel.  In a range of rich pinks, blues and every shade in between, they really are spectacular.

The first landmark along the way was King Puck, the goat of Killorgin, whose fair took place just last week here.  Today, the town had returned to its sleepy normal self and there was hardly a soul to be seen.  Maybe everyone was in church?

Both driver and co-pilot were actively engaged in working out our route, for although this is a well trodden path around the peninsula, in one or two places there were options – and where the option might be to avoid the coaches, then that could be a good move.

Not that we had seen any coaches yet.

Though the leaden skies weren’t lifting as quickly as we’d hoped, they added a different tone to the landscape and a kind of broodiness, I thought. 

Our next stop was in Cahersiveen, where a monument stands to Saint Brendan the Navigator.  Here we came across the first clutch of coaches of the day – not admiring the fine monument here with us, but a little further down the hill, paying homage to Daniel O’Connell, the politician.  Whilst we’ve come across a few local, Irish coaches touring these places, the majority are European and some are becoming rather familiar.  I think we are following a similar itinerary to a particular red coach from Belgium, de Zigeuner – the Gypsies – and sure enough, there they were.

Shortly afterwards, there was an opportunity to take a route that was unsuitable for coaches – let’s do it!  A quick right turn took us on the Skellig Ring where, yes, the roads were narrow but empty.  What’s not to like?

One of the first things we came across was the “cliffs experience”.  We parked the car, followed the instructions and reported to reception because of course, even though there had been no mention of the “t” word so far, we had to buy tickets.

4 Euros per person.

There were those who turned back at this stage, even though they had come this far, 4 Euros was just too much, it appeared.  We paid our money and began to walk along the level, well maintained road thinking that it must take quite a lot of maintenance to keep everything safe and secure in this remote place and that even a few hundred paying visitors wasn’t exactly going to make the owners a fortune.

Over to our left was a rather interesting shape.  A long straight wall was like a seam joining two grassy pieces of velvet together, ending in a smooth curve high above…what?

We had no idea what to expect here but the prospects were looking good.

Another little distraction on the right: Three beehive huts, reconstructions of course, and yes, the birds on top are artificial (suits me just fine).

Finally we reached the edge.  The fence.  Do not go beyond it….as if!

Oh. wow.

As we took our photographs of the layered, striated cliff faces, we commented that later, we’d think that we hadn’t held our cameras quite straight.  So, we took special care to do exactly that, to use the digital level and so on to get a straight image.

But it wasn’t easy.

It was spectacular though!  4 euros?  A bargain!

We walked to the highest point, to get a great view in both directions and most of all, to see that green velvet field we’d seen from the pathway and the smooth curved edge where it ends high above the crashing sea.

I was especially appreciative of the secure fencing too.

From here, we drove a little further, ascending to the summit from where, on a clear day, the views would be rather better than today.  But hey, I think we were happy enough!

From time to time, we’d come to a small collection of houses, wondering who lives here and what brought them.  Were they people leading simple lives, earning a living from renting holiday cottages or running tea rooms?  Were the farmers or smallholders, eking out a living in whatever way they can?  Or are they high tech business moguls, taking advantage of high speed internet to run global organisations from a small cottage in western Ireland?  We have no idea, but we are always curious!

We stopped for a breath of fresh air by the beach, watching one lone surfer chasing the waves.  Well, not much chasing to be done today, much more waiting around.  We smiled as a couple hugged and kissed on the sand, then felt bad when he noticed us and backed off, embarrassed.

We left them to it and climbed back in the car.  We had other fish to fry.

Skelligs chocolate was a popular place today and the cafe was full of families seeking refuge from the damp and un-summery weather in St Finians Bay.  We joined them for hot chocolate and carrot cake, watching groups arriving and tasting chocolate before going over to give it a try ourselves.

Mary Kate was the most delightful guide and we spent a happy ten minutes in her company as she fed us chocolate!  Having done so, she scooped up the rest into a bag for us to take home…together with our purchases, of course   It was so good to see such a thriving, well run business out here on the edge – we loved it.

Look, still no coaches!!

Making the most of the last part of the Skellig Ring before rejoining the “big road”, we felt – hoped – the weather was lifting.  Maybe we’d see some scenery after all?

Or was it enough to appreciate what we could see?  A misty, rather soft landscape with just a hint of islands and far flung hillsides on the horizon?

I think it was.  Who needs brilliant sunshine?

We returned to the main road and passed through a couple of small towns overcome by coach parties and parked cars.  If there had been any doubt, here was confirmation that we’d seen the best already.  We’d already travelled over Molls Gap on our way here yesterday and seen the small loughs which feature in the last stages of the Ring. We’d explored Kenmare at the fiar yesterday too.  So, thinking that this was not the best way to experience the remainder of the route, as soon as we could turn left and take an alternative road home, we did.  Thankfully the fifteen camper vans in front of us (yes, really, fifteen) all continued straight on as we headed for Killarney and our hotel.

Another great day, topped off tonight with dinner in the brasserie here and believe it or not, Father Ted on the TV as I type.  With an extra night here tomorrow, we have a bonus day ahead of us in the morning and a few plans up our sleeves.  I think that perhaps a boat and at least one horse might feature.  Oooer.

All change

Lesley, we didn’t believe the chap in the PitStop repair shop either, so when the Sixt guy didn’t call back last night, we booked an alternative rental car with a different company and cancelled the rest of the contract.  This morning, the cheerful and very amenable Enterprise people provided us with an almost identical vehicle and leaving the keys to the broken down VW with the hotel in Tralee, we set off for Kenmare in the Seat replacement.  We can’t afford to be stuck in some remote area of Ireland whilst they get their act together to sort something out.

We’d read that things were going to be buzzing in Kenmare today, with the annual fair in full swing.

Sure enough, by the time we arrived the streets were full of activity.  The first part was mostly market-style stalls, selling fairground type trinkets.  But then we hit the main part…

Want to buy a puppy?  Just 70 Euros a piece, we heard.

Well, yes, they are very cute but none of us were confident that this was going to be the best place to make such an important purchase.Later, though, we saw a young woman carrying one of this pair in the street looking rather pleased with her purchase and with an older Jack Russell on a lead beside her.  I must say I felt happier knowing that one puppy appeared to be going to a good home, but then what do I know?

If puppies weren’t on your shopping list today, then how about a few chickens?

A goat, maybe?

A cow…?

A horse?

A donkey (or two?)

Or a pair of Fallabellas?

Anything and everything was here for the purchase, everything and anything was haphazard and tied to a bit of railing or a car bumper.  Oh my.

If you weren’t in the market to buy something, then how about a raffle ticket?

The prizes were in the pen alongside.

No, Mary, you can’t take one back to California with you!

Having perused the livestock department, we chose to take a look up the main street and see what was on offer there.  It was getting near to lunchtime and perhaps there’d be a pub with a bit of entertainment or something?

What we found was stall upon stall seeing “pre-loved” power tools.

Row upon row of them set out on the roadside, each one looking very “pre-loved” indeed.  Of course, we wanted to know where they had all come from!!

And yes, of course, you know exactly what we were thinking, don’t you?  I was thinking of friends who have builders in right now, who have had full toolkits stolen, never to be seen again. 

There must have been hundreds of them.

The little street had some interesting shops along the way, too, not to mention a good place to enjoy a bacon buttie for lunch.

As we made our way back to the car, we spotted a different selection of puppies on offer and a small boy getting acquainted with one as his father did the deal.

Alongside, another stall had been set up…

Our hotel tonight is in Killarney, so our route back to the hotel took us over part of the Ring of Kerry and in particular, past another Avoca shop.

Inside was an interesting book with a familiar feel to it.

But actually, it wasn’t the book which caught my eye (again) but the blankets.

Glorious rich colours; having petted them in every store I’ve been in, it was time to make the purchase.

I’d already made my choice at an earlier stop

We are so happy we came here and delight in the glorious scenery and the wonderfully friendly people we’ve come across.

This evening, we sat in our beautiful hotel enjoying the view and wishing we could stay here longer.

Thinking we could stay here longer in fact.

So, with a couple of phone calls and emails made, we’re going to stay an extra night.  After all, not all changes have to be enforced – some of them can be made from choice!

Driving around the Dingle

Here in Tralee, there are a couple of must-do sightseeing adventures.  We decided to check one of them off the list today and set out to drive around the Dingle Peninsula.  We feared that we’d be driving in a long convoy of coaches, minivans and campers but actually, it didn’t turn out too badly.  Mind you, there were still an awful lot of people out to see the same lovely views as we were.

The day had dawned sunny once again but the cars were wet when we came downstairs to the car park and there was a chill wind too.  We were heading out whatever the weather though, so a patch of blue sky was cause for a celebration.

Right from the off, the views were stunning.  First, distant views of green, green countryside and then a little further on, of the beach at Inch.  By now, the clouds were coming over but on a blustery morning, nothing was going to stay the same for very long.

The rolling waves coming off the Atlantic were attracting surfers and several small surfing classes were set up on the beach.

It was a few hardy souls who braved the cool temperatures though and no one could really be described as basking in the sunshine.

We continued a little further along the Peninsula, heading towards the town of Dingle, where we’d read of interesting places worth a potter.

We loved this lush green landscape and couldn’t believe our luck in the low levels of traffic so far.

There were plenty of lay bys in which to pull off the road and take photographs, though occasionally, a brief stop meant we were consigned to following a slow moving coach for the next few miles.  No matter, we had all day.

The town of Dingle was disappointing though and not quite as we’d imagined.  Very touristy, with tacky souvenir shops and cars everywhere, this was hardly the town as described in our guidebooks. 

Never mind, we took advantage of the Farmers Market to gather some cheese, home made bread and some salami for our lunch and followed the directions to a silversmith/jeweller we’d read about too.  But actually, we were quite pleased to move on.

As we reached the head at Slea Point, the light was quite magical.

 

The waves were crashing against the rocks and the benign scenes we saw yesterday were much more like the Wild Atlantic Way we’d expected.

We drove back to Tralee via the Conor Pass where we stopped for ice cream and to marvel at this high, barren area with small mountain loughs.

As we descended towards Dingle again, we passed farmers organising a sheep shearing operation, wondering how on earth they manage to gather together all their flock from such a vast area.

Mostly though, we were wondering if our rental car was going to make it back to Tralee, for the warning lights were back on again.  Another trip to the (same) garage and we were reassured there was nothing to worry about, but when we jumped in to drive downtown to see the Rose of Tralee festivities this evening, the thing wouldn’t start at all.

So we have an enforced evening back at the ranch and the Roses will celebrate without us.  Heaven knows if anything will/can be sorted out by the time we leave in the morning, but suffice to say, we are pretty well cheesed off with the thing.

Keep your fingers crossed for a result, please!

Days like these

Our plans for the journey to Tralee today looked rather similar to the first set of signposts we came across as we left Galway.  We planned to drive through/around The Burren, take a look at the Cliffs of Moher and make our way towards the ferry across the Shannon to Tarbert and Tralee.

We were travelling through a more rural landscape than we’d come across so far and very much liked the small thatch cottages here and there.  They might be pretty basic for real life but made perfect backdrops for daydreaming about a simple Irish country lifestyle.

We soon arrived n the harbour of Ballyvaughan, pleased to find a quiet spot in which to stop the car and take a breath.  It had begun to stutter and stall a little, a couple of warning lights had flashed and my hero was beginning to feel anxious about the possibility of it breaking down in the middle of some tourist traffic.  Here, Mary and I could hop out and take a stroll in the fresh air, leaving the men to make phone calls and see what could be done.

Yes, it was tempting to push the blooming thing over the cliff.  It’s a no-frills VW Sharan without so much as a place to plug in an ipod and it has not endeared itself to us at all so far, being bumpy and rather cramped for just four adults and their luggage.

Just along from where we parked was a small blue tower marked “bicycle maintenance”.  It warranted a closer look.

The thoughtful people of Ballyvaughan had provided a repair kit for passing cyclists.  Sadly, it wasn’t any use for stuttering VW Sharans, but the range of spanners, wrenches, screwdrivers and so on would surely be appreciated by many.  As I stood taking the photo, a Spanish couple passed by and joined me in marvelling at the facility.  Remarkable!

Meanwhile the men were getting through to the rental car company and sorting it all out.

Because really, on days like these we can’t even begin to feel anything but joy.  I mean, this is labelled the “Wild Atlantic Way”.

Wild?

Never!

The sea was like a millpond.  The reflections as if they were in a lake, not the Atlantic Ocean.

How lucky are we to see West Ireland in these conditions?  Whilst the weather warnings were being issued for England, we were basking in sunshine with hardly a breath of wind.

Having sorted out an appointment with a mechanic in Tralee later, we continued south, doing our best to snap glorious views as we went.

We’d earmarked the Burren Smokehouse as worth a visit, thinking that perhaps we’d find some tasty things for today’s picnic lunch there.  Oh yes, a little bit of tasting was enough to make us want one of everything!  We left armed with a couple of different smoked salmon packs, some great dark and tasty bread, a few home made cookies and a couple of bars of chocolate.  A feast, no less.

But before lunch, we had one more call to make at the Cliffs of Moher.  We’d read that although the Guinness Storehouse is currently the #1 visitor attraction in the country, before long this more natural feature is likely to overtake it.  Unsurprisingly then, we were far from alone on the path to the coast.

Who cares, though?  There was room for everyone to see and more than enough sunshine, fresh air and blue sky to go around.

OK, so occasionally I had to wait to take my picture.  But I didn’t mind at all.

Life. Is. Good.

The Aran Islands were actually really clear across there, but in my photograph they seem to have disappeared.  You’ll just have to believe me that they glistened in the sunshine.

We resisted the temptation to go further along the pathway up onto the cliffs, dreaming instead of the salmon and our picnic lunch.

After a couple of false starts, we found the ideal place.  No, not on the dangerous cliff edge!  Neither did we settle for the picnic area near the harbour where the odour was not of the seaweed drying in the sunshine, but of the sewage which burst from a pipe sometime yesterday, according to the priest who was parked in his car next to ours!

Instead, we found a grassy spot high above the busy beach of Lehinch and can only describe the smoked salmon picnic as one of the tastiest lunches imaginable.

Suitably fortified, it was an easy drive over the Shannon ferry to Tarbert and on to Tralee.  Whilst Mary and I settled into our cosy hotel, the men took the car to the repair shop and returned an hour and 70 Euros later.

This evening, watching the news of flash floods in Kent, downpours in other parts of the United Kingdom, we are thankful for blue skies and sunny days in which to see this most beautiful of landscapes.

Not only that, but the weather forecast for the weekend looks promising too.

Wednesday in Connemara

We were a little later to get going this morning and the large groups had left the hotel by the time we’d made our way to breakfast.

Our first stop was a craft village where one or two craftspeople were at work.  Interesting things to see though only one workshop would have tempted me to buy.

My friend and colleague Norah would have been quite at home here, although the basket maker wasn’t actually working today.

I admired the beginnings of a couple of large trays, described as sciobs, intended for draining and then serving cooked potatoes.  I especially liked the central designs on these baskets and the soft, natural colours.  But the one I liked would never fit in my luggage and maybe that’s as well…

We drove through the lovely Connemara countryside, frequently within sight of water; sometimes it was an inlet from Galway Bay and others, it turned out to be an inland Lough.  Unless we consulted our map, we couldn’t be sure – it’s just that kind of landscape.

We made another short stop at a general store-craft shop-bookstore-cafe in Recess village where there was an interesting selection of bog standard products.

Nice name, eh?

Arriving in Letterfrack, the back seat Road Trip Larder (previously consisting of mostly chocolate digestive biscuits and mint humbugs) was augmented with a loaf of soda bread, cheese, apples and a couple of packets of crisps for a picnic lunch.

Another Avoca store beckoned, however, with beautiful blankets, gorgeous scarves and friendly service, not to mention other facilities essential to our comfort

We found our ideal picnic spot alongside the lake at Kylemore Abbey where a small roadside pull in offered a great view.

There was a buffet table for our Irish lunch.

Sticks to throw.

Inspiration for artists, embroiderers and knitters.

An ever changing pattern of bubbles, debris washed up on the pebbly beach and ripples in the water.

There was even entertainment in the form of a walking group on the far hillside, in addition to the more local US vs UK stick throwing activities.  What a great lunch!

Back on the road, we stopped for a closer look at the oyster beds in Killary Harbour

We chatted to a couple from Waterford about the two rag trees there above the fjord, enjoying their gentle manners and good humour and smiling at their reaction to learning that we were from Gloucestershire.

“Oh, we’d love to go to Cheltenham”, they said.  “We love the horse racing!”

One last stop of the afternoon, then, by the side of Lough Corrib.  Here was another fine picnic spot and a blast of afternoon sunshine tempted us down to the waterside.

Lovely, unspoiled meadowland, peace, quiet and a glorious view.

What a wonderful landscape!  We are so thrilled that we chose to come here and are really enjoying the journey.  It feels so remote, it’s hard to imagine that we are almost back in Galway and our “room with a (different sort of) view”

Tomorrow, we’ll move on a little further south, towards Tralee.  More fun awaits!