Ring Of Kerry

The Ring of Kerry driving tour is another popular Irish attraction, and one we weren’t going to miss. Having been warned to travel counter-clockwise, in the direction of the tour coaches, to avoid having to make any tight passes, we started in Kilorglin and headed South.

The Ring started out a little underwhelming, after some of the sights we’d seen already in this rather spectacular part of the world. We briefly stopped in a town called Cahersiveen, which was creepily quiet and empty, with lots of shops closed down. Not finding anywhere we felt like having lunch, we moved on and stopped in Waterville, apparently once home to Charlie Chaplin’s parents. We splurged on $40 worth of fish and chips, which were very satisfying, which was a relief given the significant financial outlay. While not as desolate-looking as Cahersiveen, we still found Waterville oddly empty, and it was bizzare to see a ‘fun fair’ set up beside the road, one or two rides dejectedly spewing diesel fumes while being ridden by one or two people. Weird.

With the day getting well away from us, we decided it was time to go on the hunt for a place to stop for the night. I picked an arbitrary road and drove for a little while; We found an absolutely fantastic place to park, a spot on the side of the tiny road on a cliff-ette beside the water, strewn with colourful wildflowers and with a view over the surrounding mountains.

We watched the sun go down, a contained explosion of orange peeking through the dense cloud layer, above the distant mountains.

On our second day, the Ring of Kerry picked right up. The road wound up above our waterside overnight spot to reveal a great view over the area:

Further along, the stunning views kept coming.

We stopped by the road for lunch (our tried and true staple of toasted cheese and tomato sandwiches, done in the frying pan), and continued into Killarney National Park.

Along with the beauty of the landscape, the number of tourists grew, leading to the frustrating inevitability that whenever we wanted to pull over to take a closer look at something, any place to stop was taken up by other cars. While trying to turn Nettle around after failing to find a park at one such place, I casually drove her into a rock fence, putting a dent in her back left side, which left me quite mortified and distressed. Damn!!

Anyway, we drove on and made one quick stopover to take a peek at Lough Leane:

We found a parking area with room for us to stop in, and went on a couple-hour walk along a track we found, which led to the quite pretty Torc waterfall. Lots of loud tourists and sandflies, though!

We pulled into a nicer car park around the corner and parked up for the night. Bulmers cider, chocolate, pasta and Alias.

Next day, we visited the town of Killarney, which turned out to be a bit cheesy and touristy for our liking. So, our ferry booking approaching, it was time to start heading eastwards, leaving Kerry.

Dingle

Our first stop towards Dingle was Inch, a place recommended to us in Galway. A little narrow road took us in, and we were met by the sight of a long sweeping sandy beach with mountains wreathed in cloud behind. We were excited to see a host of motorhomes parked on the beach and, thinking we’d found a pretty cool wild-camp, drove onto the beach too. Then we saw the sign declaring that overnight parking on the beach was prohibited. Damn!

So, leaving those naughty motorhomers to their criminal activities, we found ourselves an alternative park in a lay-by perched over the beach with a great view.

The next day, we drove into Dingle along a rather spectacular road, winding along the coastline. We pulled over quite a few times along the way to enjoy the scenery.

Arriving in Dingle, we walked around the colourful little town for a while, in the mist. Lots of craft shops, among other things. Katherine found us some cushions for Nettle, with much glee.

We set off down the peninsula, following that great craggy coastline that spoils us so. We stopped over to visit a pre-1200 AD ‘ringfort‘ (or ‘bee hive huts’), piles of loose stones comprising huts and fences. Man, what a gloomy existence that must’ve been.

With the hour getting late, we decided it was time to stop for the night, so we pulled over in a lay-by beside the road, overlooking the water. This wild-camping thing is just brilliant:

We set off again the next day…

…and found Slea Head just around the corner, a little sandy beach with surprisingly turquoise water framed by crags, and a rocky point, leading back to green fields dotted with sheep.

Funny to think that if the weather here was any more palatable, the place would probably be transformed by condos and resorts — as it is, there are just a few farm houses. Unspoilt. Hooray for the rain!

It being quite early, there was not another person in sight; we had a breakfast of tea and toast parked overlooking Slea Head’s beach.

We finished our driving tour of the peninsula, making our way back to Dingle.

We found a park just outside town, and walked in once evening had set in looking for a pub to enjoy some live traditional music and Guiness. We wandered into the first one we saw, and had ourselves some homemade-style apple crumble for dessert, and an Irish coffee (actually, yuck. Whiskey in coffee is not for us!).

We got ourselves a couple of Guinesses (there’s our Vegemite replacement right there) and two musicians started up — a man playing guitar who looked like he’d just walked off the farm, and a young lass with a fantastic lilting singing voice. They were brilliant.

Meanwhile, we met another patron who introduced himself as Patrick, and lived in a village outside nearby Limerick (he was visiting Dingle, and was going to hitch-hike back home the next day). We shouted him a pint and chatted (sorry, shared craic) for a while; he suggested a few places we shouldn’t miss on the Ring Of Kerry, our next destination.

And that was it for Dingle — we excused ourselves and walked back to Nettle to sleep, then drove off the next day.