Dunquin to Feohanagh 21km

Here at the Old Pier B & B in Feohanagh we have an attic bedroom with two large Velux roof windows. The rain is pouring down and making quite a racket on the glass. But we don’t care. We are snug as a bug in a rug. It was grey all day today but we beat the rain by about half an hour. When we arrived there were fresh scones and home made black current jam waiting for us. Delicious. Usually it is just a biscuit.

This was an outstanding scenic day. Today was easy walking on gentle gradients with a total ascent of only about 100 m. It was equal measure of walking on quiet minor roads, long sandy beaches and grassy paths on coastal cliff tops. I think our bodies and minds have settled into the relaxed rhythm of being pedestrian tourists.

From Dunquin we had a gentle climb to the top of a hill from which there was a long view down the coast. The dominant land forms were three headlands called the Three Sisters. They were to accompany us all day and our B & B looks out toward them over Smerwick Harbour.

The first surprise of the day was coming across the Louis Mulcahy Pottery. We went in because there was a cafe (and it was a good one) but were blown away by the enormous array of items, from candle holders to sinks, from vases to huge urns. Every piece is handmade and decorated, and expensive. Fortunately for our budget most pieces were too big to carry with us, although they did ship to anywhere in the world. There was an open workshop where you could watch the throwers at work and have a go yourself.

After the pottery we went down to the coast. Much of it is dramatically rugged but there are secluded little sandy beaches tucked away. We went to Clogher’s which looked idyllic but in fact had a vicious undertow. From here we were back on sealed minor roads and were passed by a group of children (and teachers) on bicycles. We think they were French as Barbara got lots of waves and smiles as she called out “allez, allez”.

At Smerwick Harbour we walked on two long sandy beaches. The tide was far out and there must have been 100 metres from the water to the sand dunes. We had a lunch stop at the sheltered end of one of them. The sealed roads are nice and even and clean to walk on but are hard on the feet. The firm sand of the beach is much softer and the feet take much less of a pounding. Smerwick is of Norse origin, from smaor (butter) and vick (harbour).

One of the beaches was called Wine Strand , its name recalling its history of smuggling. In my mind I associate smuggling with caves and the Famous Five or Secret Seven, but there are no caves here. At the end of the harbour at Murreagh is a jetty and some small fishing boats and from there we walked on a nice grass track on top of cliffs, high above the sea.

We regularly see other couples who are also walking the Dingle Way. We know each other well enough now to say hello and have a small chat about how it is going. There were five couples on the beach this afternoon, all with the same goal but strategically spaced apart to keep their independence.

We need a good sleep tonight. Tomorrow will be our most dramatic and challenging day, crossing the shoulder of Mt Brandon.

Dingle to Dunquin 21 km

For the first time on this walk we cast a shadow today, and felt the warmth of the sun on our back. Life was good. Within the first hour warm layers were taken off, sun glasses, sun block and sun hats were put on. Life was very good.

An interesting and at the end spectacular day with many interesting things along the way. Breakfast wasn’t until 8.30 and we had a look around Dingle and the marina so didn’t get under way till 10. The first few kms were on sealed minor roads before starting on a long steep climb up a grass farm track. After a while we came to a farm gate and obvious evidence of cows using the track. We dreaded a repeat of yesterday but then a narrow board walk appeared at its side. We were able to tip toe along this free of the cow crap.

At the top was a wonderful view down to a long sandy beach at Ventry. A steep descent to this and we sat on the stones and had a coffee and cookie. It was a lovely walk on the firm sand of the beach for two and a half kilometres. From the beach we headed inland and came to signs indicating a Lios, or ringed fort. For €2 you could enter the fort and feed the sheep. We passed on the sheep but had a look at the fort. Basically it is a circular area about 25 metres wide with traces of 3 or 4 huts surrounded by a grassy circular earthen bank 2.5 metres high and then a ditch about 4 metres below the top of the bank. They date from early Christian times and were probably built to enclose a family group’s buildings. It was fairly unimpressive in my opinion but Barbara thought it was okay. Inside the bank it was nice and sunny and out of the wind so we sat there and ate our lunch, and the sheep watched us.

After lunch a very steep climb up a grass track to high on a hill side. Great views back to Dingle, down to Ventry and out over the vast Atlantic Ocean. We followed a very fine dry stone wall (called a “dyke”?) which meandered across the hillside following the coast. This area has an incredibly dense concentration of Archaeological remains and we saw many good examples of clocháns. These are small round buildings known as ‘beehive huts’ and are superb examples of the skilful use of stone. The ones we saw were not roofed but they would have had circular layers, each slightly smaller than the one below, until finished with a single capstone. It is not known for sure what these were used for or who built them.

Eventually we rounded the end of the Peninsula at Slea Head and had a very steep descent to the jagged cliffs at Coumeenoole Bay. Off the end of the bay are the Blasket  Islands, the most westerly point in Europe – despite what the Romans thought at Finesterre in Spain. But then The Romans never came to Ireland. We had to walk along the road from here and came across a cyclist. He asked if we had some sun block, which we did and gave him some. Turned out he was doing a 2,500 km bike race around Ireland and had completed 1,700 km. He cycles 300 km at a time and sleeps for 3 hours. I think he was German, about 30 and looked in super shape. Although he didn’t know what day of the week it was. He had a racing bike with aero bars, lights, and very slim minimalist bags. We had been feeling a bit tired by then, but after talking to him realised we really hadn’t done that much.

Dunquin is a tiny hamlet and has no facilities. When we arrived at our B & B at 4.30pm the owner advised us the only food available was at a pottery/bookshop/cafe we had passed a kilometre back and they closed at 6.00pm. So we had a cup of tea and rested a bit before heading back. What a gem it was. Two dear ladies in their eighties were running the cafe and we had a delicious bowl of homemade vegetable soup. I followed that with the best rhubarb crumble in Ireland. One of the ladies explained she grew the rhubarb herself and the secret was she collected seaweed from the bottom of the cliffs to use as fertiliser. My day was made.

We didn’t really see a lot of Dingle. It is a gorgeous little town and on a sunny day would look stunning with lots of tourists, music, and all the hustle and bustle of shopping and eating and drinking.

It is the only town on the peninsular and has a nice protected marina. In the past it was a major trading port between Ireland, France and Spain. Wine was imported here and so inevitably there was also a lot of smuggling activity. Dingle was also the departing point for Pilgrims going over to Coruna and on to Santiago de Compostella. The Spanish even built a church here in Dingle for the pilgrims.

When we went out for dinner last night we were tired, it was windy, cold and lightly raining. So we went to the nearest pub which was right next door. After eating we had a quick look round but the streets were almost deserted and everything looked shut so we decided to wait and have another go in the morning.

Annascaul to Dingle 22km

A very undulating route today, we always seemed to be going up or down. Nothing too steep or long, just gently climbing in and out of valleys. I think we climbed over at least 25 stiles.

The first hour was on narrow sealed minor roads. A steady climb through farmland and then a quick descent to a small bay with large smooth round boulders. Overlooking the bay are the gaunt remains of Minard Castle. A sixteenth century tower castle partly destroyed by Cromwell’s forces in 1650. We spent half an hour there sitting on the stones having a coffee from our Kleen Kanteens  and a muffin we had brought with us from Annascaul.

From here more climbing and descending, still on minor roads to the hamlet of Lispole which has a stone church with a bit of an odd bell tower made of four buttresses, and an abandoned  old stone railway viaduct in fields. A bit of a diversion here was the only available place to get refreshments all day. We didn’t go through any other hamlets or villages today.

From here we left the nice clean sealed roads and were on gravel, stone, grass or mud farm lanes. Opening and closing farm gates and climbing stiles. Most of these lanes were used for moving cattle and were just rivers of muck. The brown mud and puddles weren’t too bad, it was the yellow and green ones that stank to high heaven you had to avoid. It wasn’t nice for clean city bred folks but there was no alternative and we just had to press on, getting more and more covered in muck.

Fortunately for the last hour of the day we were back on sealed minor roads as we descended from a saddle down into Dingle. We started at 9.00am and finished at 2.30pm with a half hour break at the castle, otherwise pretty much nonstop. We are not yet fully walking fit and into the rhythm of it yet, that will take another day or two, so we are a bit tired tonight.

We have decided the red poppies of the Camino have a slight edge in the ‘wild flower stakes’ over the purple fox gloves which are the predominant wild flower here so far. The edges of the lanes have the usual daisies, buttercups, blackberry, ferns etc but also masses of fuchsia hedges with their red tear drop flowers. These were introduced from a New Zealand species in the nineteenth century and have proliferated wildly in Ireland and are now considered an invasive pest.

The weather was just okay today. Windy again but not as strong as yesterday. Cloudy, looked like it wanted to rain, some drizzle, light rain in the afternoon but not enough to get really wet. A nice temperature for walking.

Annascaul is a tiny village with many very brightly painted houses and pubs, and known for its Tom Crean legacy.

Crean (1877 – 1938) was born near Annasaul and distinguished himself in Sir Robert Scott’s two Antarctic expeditions ( 1901-04 and 1912). He was a seaman and volunteered to join Scott’s first expedition when he was in New Zealand where Scott was refitting his ship on the way to Antarctica. He was a heroic member of Ernest Shackleton’s expedition to Antarctica in 1914 -1916.

In January 1915 Shackleton’s expedition ship Endurance became trapped in ice and later was crushed and sank. The crew camped on the ice until April 1916 when they made a seven day journey in three life boats to Elephant Island. There was little chance of being rescued from here as the island was far outside shipping channels. Shackleton and five others, including Crean, used one of the boats (the James Caird) to make a sixteen day 1500 km voyage to South Georgia where there was a whaling station. Eventually in August 1916 Shackleton returned to Elephant Island to rescue all the crew.

Crean served in the navy until the end of WW1 and then returned to Annascaul, married and opened the South Pole Inn. And that is where this evening we had dinner and a Guinness in his honour.

Camp to Annascaul 17km

A wonderful wild day on the Wild Atlantic Way.

We were itching to go but had to wait to get the first bus from Tralee to Camp which was at 11.00 am. You can walk the 18km but we will be walking it on the way back so most people get the bus. At 11.30 we were in Camp and so happy to be underway at last. The first 2 km were a steady climb to a pass in the Slieve Mountains. We would call these hills as the highest peak is only at about 800 metres and the pass about 300 metres. Over the pass it was blowing a gale, about 40km/hr into our face and we had some very heavy showers. But we didn’t mind we were just so happy to be out in the countryside and walking.

Most of the day was on open farmland with horned, and black faced sheep and a few herds of cows. We saw some fields with peat being carved for fuel, with low dark cuttings carved into the moorland and left to dry. The only forest we passed through was a small conifer one with quite young trees. Big enough to protect us from the wind for a while. For the first part of the day we were basically crossing over the spine of the Dingle Peninsular from Tralee Bay to Castlemaine Harbour. After two and a half hours we arrived at Inch which has a beautiful long beach and is where the beach scenes in the epic movie Ryan’s Daughter were filmed. Today the wind was so strong everything and everyone was blasted with sand. We were feeling really battered by the wind and stopped in a cafe for some shelter and respite.

From Inch, having cleared sand out of our ears, eyes, nose, teeth etc we went inland and over a small saddle to the village of Annascaul, where we are tonight at Annascaul House. We only walked 17km but it felt an awful lot further after bashing into the wind all day. The surface underfoot was good. A mixture of sealed narrow roads, gravelled farm roads and stony or grass tracks. No mud or bogs so far. A few gates to get through and two stiles to climb over. The signage was great. No chance of getting lost. There weren’t any other walkers on the bus this morning but during the day we saw quite a few others. Not as busy as the Camino but we are not walking alone.

A wild day but just so good to be on the move.

Tralee (Trá Lí – The Strand of the River Lee) is the capital of County Kerry and has a population of about 23,000.

After breakfast we decided to check out the buses for our transfer to Camp tomorrow morning and walk the Tralee Ship Canal out to the Blennerville Windmill. Our route crossed the Tralee Town Park and we saw that a group of runners were assembling. Turned out it was a Park Run – exactly the same format as Barbara ran at Otaihanga Domain. One of the organisers saw us watching and came over to chat. When she learnt Barb ran Park Runs in New Zealand we were photograhed as “international visitors” and will be posted on their Face Book page.

Tralee is famous for the Rose Of Tralee Festival and in the rose garden in the Town Park we came across a statue of the original Rose of Tralee, Mary O’Connor. The week long festival which is an international celebration of the global irish community, is inspired by a nineteenth century ballad written for Mary, a renowned beauty who was called the Rose Of Tralee. There are about 70 Rose of Tralee organisations around the world including New Zealand.

Tralee is slightly inland from Tralee Bay and the wharf for the town was at Blennerville. However this area silted up and in 1846 a 2km long ship canal was constructed to a new basin nearer the town. This basin also silted up and the canal became disused. In the 1990s the canal and adjoining area were redeveloped with housing and a marina. The tow path to the canal is now a pleasant walk out to the restored Blennerville Windmill.

The windmill is a tower windmill, the tallest of its kind in Europe and was built in 1800 and used for grinding corn. It is now Ireland’s only surviving commercially operated windmill. There is a visitors’ centre, a craft centre, exhibition gallery, guided tours etc. The only thing not working was the cafe which was closed for repainting. As Donald Trump would say – sad!

There is a connection between Tralee and the Camino Frances we walked in Spain last year. The Kerry Camino starts here in St John’s Cathedral and goes to St James Church in Dingle. Pilgrims then took a boat across to Coruna at the Northwest tip of Spain and the pilgrimage continued to Santiago de Compostela. Irish pilgrims still do the land section of this route but I’m not sure if there is a boat service from Dingle to Coruna these days. We will walk the same route from Tralee to Dingle over the next two days.

Purportedly the route follows in the footsteps of St Brendon “The Navigator”. During the years 512 to 530 St Brendon set out from Kerry to spread the Word of God along the coast of Ireland, Scotland, Wales and Brittany. There is a 1500 year old Irish legend that St Brendon travelled all the way to America, long before the Vikings or Christopher Columbus. Although this journey was re-enacted in 1976 there is no historical or archeological evidence it ever took place.

Tralee was a very busy town today. A Saturday and lot’s of shopping to be done. A windy day, but warm and although there were black clouds all around, not a drop of rain.

Today was transfer day from Dublin south west to Tralee. We had pre-purchased tickets on the 10.15am big green Dublin Coach. As we usually do, we arrived half an hour early and at the bus stop was a green Dublin Coach with ‘Tralee’ blazing in lights at the front. It was just about to leave but the driver saw us and opened up the doors. We showed him our tickets and he told us to quickly jump on while he stowed our bags. The bus was pretty full and we could only sit together by being in the back row.

We drove south for about 2 hours and came to Limerick. Here the driver started calling out instructions and people started to get off. We couldn’t hear (or understand him anyway) so Barb went up front to say we are going to Tralee. He then informed us we were on the wrong bus! He was going to Killarney.

He said however this was okay as the Tralee bus followed largely the same route and he would drop us off where the routes diverged. So we drove for another hour until we reached the small village of Abbeyfeale which had a bus shelter but not much else. He said wait here and the Tralee bus should be along in about 20 minutes. As he left he appologised for having Tralee on his sign instead of Killarney.

After 30 minutes we were getting nervous and wondering about a taxi to Tralee when a beautiful big green coach came down the road. The driver was a very young black guy with super cool sun glasses and a very non-regulation uniform cap. He asked us if we were the couple who had got on the wrong bus. He was polite enough not to say ‘old’ couple, or ‘odd’ couple. He had been told about us and was looking out at every stop along the route.

No further dramas and we arrived in Tralee on the correct bus that had left at 10.15. The moral of this story? Never, ever, get to the bus stop early. Well maybe just a minute.

We are now in our first B & B in Ireland. The very cosy and comfortable Willows and our hosts are Tim and Mary. There are four guest rooms. It is a 2 storey + attic Georgian townhouse beautifully over decorated with period stuff. One of those places where you stand in the middle of the room with your arms tight at your sides, too scared to move in case you knock something over and break it. The wifi is good so it’s all okay.

Had a delicious meal off the Grand Hotel bar menu and we are quite relaxed now after a slightly tense day.  Tomorrow we have a ‘rest’ day here in Tralee before starting walking on Sunday. It was a beautiful sunny day all the way to Tralee but when we went out to dinner this evening it had started to, you know what, rain. Forecast for tomorrow is good though.

In Dublin’s fair city
Where the girls are so pretty
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone
As she wheeled her wheel barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O!

This popular song is the unofficial anthem of Dublin and June 13th is Molly Malone Day. The song tells the story of a fishmonger plying her trade on the streets of Dublin but who died young of a fever. There is no evidence that the song is based on a real woman. She is sometimes portrayed as a hawker by day and a part-time prostitute by night.

Dubliners like to give nick names to statues, monuments etc. For example the statue of James Joyce I had in a post the other day is “the prick with a stick” and that of Oscar Wilde is “the fag on the crag”.

Molly Malone is nick named the “tart with a cart”.

We also came across a charming statue of two ordinary women who had been shopping, sitting on a bench resting. The nick name of this is “the hags with the bags”.

Before leaving home we booked a half day guided bicycle tour of the highlights of Dublin. We did this on the assumption that Ireland was an intelligent and educated society and being part of the European Union would have the sophisticated and mature attitude of Europeans to the peaceful co-existance of cyclists and motorists. Wrong!

The Irish have a total disdain toward traffiic rules, traffic lights, red man/green man, pedestrian crossings, one way streets and speed limits. When it rains everyone goes a bit faster. Afterall, you wouldn’t want to get wet would you? For every man woman and child in Dublin there is a huge yellow and blue double decker bus and these are all moving or parked on narrow medieval streets. There is a light rail transport system, DART, Dublin Area Rapid Transport. In Irish it is called Luas which means speed.  It is a silver serpent slitthering through the streets frightening the old and the young.

So two seniors from the quiet seaside village of Paraparaumu are going cycling in this. We awoke to steady rain again and the forecast was for showers all day. Many of the streets in the older parts of the city are paved with cobblestones which we haven’t ridden on much, especially when they are wet. We were talking ourselves into cancelling the ride but decided to go down and meet the guide anyway and see if we could postpone until another day. When we got to the meeting point we found that four people had cancelled but a lady from Perth (Barbara) and a couple from Melbourne (Sylvia and Gerald) were wanting to go. It had rained all the way from the hotel but when we met up it had stopped and was clearing so we decided to give it a go.

The guide was Brian, a 37 year old Dubliner and co-owner of the company. Man he could talk. He knew all the history and stories of every point of interest in the city. We were given a lesson on the long, complicated and brutal birth of the Republic of Ireland.

The riding itself wasn’t difficult and in the four hours we probably did less than 10 kilometres. The bikes were strange. Small wheels, heavy and only three gears on a twist grip on the handlebar. They did have bells though, which I used often. Brian had us lined up like ducks in a row and we just blindly followed him when ever he said go. Some was on cycle lanes and shared paths but we seemed to go through dozens of red lights. I didn’t dare look at the cars, buses and trams around us, I just concentrated on following his rear wheel. We were all competent cyclists so we could all stay as a tight group and keep up a steady pace.

We started at 10 and finished at 2, which included about a twenty minute stop in a pub for a drink. In that time it never rained a drop but as we pulled into his depot at the end, the rain started again and didn’t stop for about 2 hours. So we were lucky. We saw a huge amount of the inner city and it’s a good way to quickly get your bearings other than going in a bus.

Late in the afternoon between showers we went out to walk along some of the Grand Canal. This 132 km canal starts at the River Liffey in Dublin and ends at Shannon Harbour. It was started in 1757 and opened in 1804. It closed to commercial traffic in 1951 but is still used by pleasure craft today. There is 117km of walking trail along the canal and locks and lock-keepers cottages etc have been refurbished/restored. There is a sister canal going north out of Dublin called the Royal Canal. It is a beautful walk along a linear oasis untouched by modern agriculture.