Dingle

Just up the road from Skibbereen, another picture-perfect dolmen, no notice nor signage, guarded by a lone sheep

The Skellig Rocks, far off the Iveragh coast, an important Celtic Christian monastic site

A typical Dingle scene, near the pass between Camp and Dingletown

Ogham Stones at the Ventry Manor House, near Dingle town, Celtic Christian era, with earliest known written Irish, a cipher of straight lines...sort of a bar-code pre-cursor

Dunbeg Fort, on the sea cliffs near Slea Hand, Ireland's western-most point; another iron-age fort

View from Dunbeg, Iveragh Peninsula in distance

Amid morning squalls we drove on around the Ring of Kerry. Vicki was impressed with the drive and scenery. I was less so. The Iveragh Peninsula is too much rock for me, too barren, too little green, and also not enough scenery of the sea. Matters much improved for me when we got on to the Dingle Peninsula. Everywhere is green (read: agriculture), right up nearly to the tops of the mountains. And, past Dingle, the road gives ample views of the sea, the islands, the cliffs, the beaches. We drove past Dingle out to Slea Hand, the Land's End of Ireland, then back to our campground at Ballydavid and into Dingle for dinner. For me, dinner was Dingle Bay mussels in a rich cream sauce, with the merest hint of garlic. The mussels were larger than their Bantry Bay cousins, but not nearly so large and flavorful and succulent as the New Zealand green shells. Oh well, one can't have everything, at least not all at the same time. Vicki had a burger.

On the Dingle Peninsula, one is deep in Irish Gaelic country. All the road signs are in Irish only, and the English spoken here is very difficult for us to follow. The Ogham Stones pictured above were at a girls' Gaelic-only residential school near Dingle. Seeing and hearing such things is in part why one comes to places like Ireland, where there is a past and where people are valuing and preserving it, often defiantly.

Somehow in contrast are the hundreds upon hundreds of “holiday homes” and subdivisions of them one sees in these parts. Evidently, having a vacation home in Kerry or west Cork was part of the national dream, or at least part of the developers' and bankers' dreams. Many of these dwellings, mostly priced in the 500k euro realm, stand vacant or unfinished or for sale now. All the Irish banks have been nationalized, I understand. In many cases, the holiday homes stand next or near to famine houses or famine villages of the 1840s. The Irish adoption of the potato in the 1780s had its own boom, in population, and bust, in the great famine.

Kerry and Dingle

So there we were, minding our own business, driving along the A591 out toward Mizen Head at the end of the peninsula, stopping to admire the bay, when, off to the left, unheralded on road or map, appears this absolutely perfect-specimen dolmen...the place is littered with them

And then, a few miles on, right out in the bay, at low tide, are these standing stones, perhaps part of a circle (as in Brittany's Morbihan)

Off Mizen Head

Another possible flip; great, great view-shed on Dunmanus Bay

The Staigue stone fort, Kerry Ring, on the Iveragh Peninsula; 4th century AD, pre-Christian; perhaps 40-50 meters in diameter, walls 4 meters high; fortified dwelling-place of a chieftain and his retinue

Staigue interior; note staircases

Staigue exterior and the barren mountains beyond, including Carrauntoohill, Ireland's highest, at 3,414 feet; I think I'll pass; a nearby range is the charmingly named "Macgillacuddy's Reeks"

Today (Thursday) we began our drives along Ireland's fabled western peninsulas, those granite fists jutting into and temporarily defying the Atlantic. From Skibbereen we drove to Mizen Head, skipped the Beara peninsula, then to Bantry and Bantry Bay (from which I have eaten hundreds of mussels), and then across two small mountain ranges to the Kerry Ring, around the Iveragh Peninsula. We got as far as Caherdaniel and are lodged at the Travelers' Rest hostel/B&B. We are the only people here tonight, the whole building to ourselves. For us, it's all about the weather.

This May's weather, in these parts, has been unusually cool, and wet too, with mostly afternoon showers. And very, very windy. We pitched our tent last night in Skibbereen in the rain and wind, but then it cleared and the night was relatively dry. As darkness approached tonight, it was raining again, torrents, with gale winds, and we just couldn't face another night roughing it. So we found the Travelers' Rest. We are in the commons room now, by ourselves, a peat fire (how cool is that?) burning in the fireplace, Vicki reading Edward Rutherford's (author of Sarum) Dublin, me blogging away, sipping Powers' whisky. Life is good, when warm and dry, and spiritual.

Life is not so good when driving these back-country Irish roads. They are two-lane and very narrow, some really one-lane. Our car is as small as anything on the road, and we often crowd the left/passenger margins when approached by tour buses, 18-wheelers, and worst, cement-mixers, all over the line (when there is a line). The Irish seem to hog the road until the last possible moment, moving over to avoid collision. The rental car agency warned that most damage on these narrow roads is on the left/passenger side...I understand why that is the case. Vicki is terrified most of the time, distracting herself by reprogramming the GPS. The GPS, Tom, has shown an unwelcome predilection for these country roads. More reprogramming is in order, especially before we start driving the bigger rig.

Speaking of which: yesterday came the welcome news that the Otello departed Brunswick on May 4, a day early, with the Grey Wanderer aboard. The scheduled arrival in Bremerhaven now is May 18. We so want to be in that camper!

More from Ireland

Fixer-upper castle; we inquired, but felt the subsidence was too great in this time of global warming

The Annie Moore sculpture in Cobh, Cork's port, where most Irish emigrants departed for America; we visited the Cobh Heritage Center and walked good bit of the harbor area

Downhill in Cobh...top that, San Francisco!

Windsurfing on a southwestern bay

The Dromberg stone circle, near Skibbereen; scaled-down Stonehenge

Blarney Castle

Blarney Castle

Vicki

Mark

I swear I did not make this up; it was right next to the stone, just in case of pandemic...

In the Rock Close

We had to do it. In China, you have to do the Great Wall. Here, you have to kiss the Blarney Stone. Actually, it was fun, climbing the great keep, witty and interesting signage all the way. The Rock Close adjoining the old castle was a treat in itself, dolmen and other stones, water features, great trees, and rhododendrons in full bloom. It was just the beginning of a great day.

May 5, 2009-- Blarney, Ireland

Got here 5 minutes too late to see the Blarney Castle and Stone today. We want to get there early in the morning if possible to avoid the crowds. Even though May is off season there are still a lot of tourists around—not many camping though. I estimate the temperature at night is in the mid to upper 40s and upper 50s in the daytime, but the wind seems to howl all the time. As we approach the Atlantic I imagine it will get even stronger. Yesterday we finally found a normal supermarket where food was not too outrageous. I bought what was on sale that I could cook with 1 pot and 1 burner and no cooler. Last night we had chicken patties that had been frozen and therefor would keep along with rice and a jar of Tika Masala sauce from Uncle Ben's—with salad and strawberries and cream, it was really quite good and enough leftovers for tonight. Since our current campground has a freezer and nice indoor kitchen space, I cooked the frozen hamburger and mixed up a jar of spaghetti sauce and cooked the spaghetti. Will refreeze tonight in two bags to have for dinner the next two nights. We do have an insulated bag but just no way to keep ice. We are going to think we have reached Nirvana when we and the camper finally meet up. Heat, refrigeration, a two burner stove and you don't have to trek across the field in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom!

Rock of Cashel, Lismore, and Jameson's

The Rock of Cashel

Cathedral

Round tower

Countryside from the Rock

Lismore Castle on the Blackwater River

Outdoor sculpture at Jameson's

From Cahir we drove up the road to Cashel and its monastery, high on a rock overlooking the valley. The Rock of Cashel is of about the same vintage as Glendalough: Celtic Christian beginnings, height of activity and influence in the 13th century or so, decline thereafter and abandonment by the 16th or 17th century. Much of the structures remains, however, and it is impressive. Of special interest are the depictions that seem to mix Christian with Celtic images.

I managed to leave our bowls and spoons in Kilkenny, so, thanks to an attentive campground proprietor who kept them for us, we drove back to Kilkenny to retrieve them (sentimental value), then on to Waterford, and then up to Lismore. Lismore has a 13th century castle, still a residence, a formal garden, and is a beautiful village. We walked about for a while, visiting the two churches and the Blackwater river, and then drove on toward Cork, stopping for a visit, and purchases, at the Jameson's distillery and "heritage" center. We'd hoped to get to Blarney in time to see the Stone, but, alas, traffic in Cork slowed us down. So we camped near Blarney, about ready to leave the south and begin our tour of western Ireland. Today the weather finally turned for the better, cool, sunny, windy, but not cold nor wet.

All-Time Most Interesting Campground Ever So Far

The Apple is a small campground that is part of an apple orchard/cider manufacturer near Cahir. It is family-run and the kitchen/bathrooms/commons areas are actually in a large warehouse/barn adjoining the orchards. Everything is provided, 6.50 euros per person flat fee, and campers are welcome to tour the grounds, see the growing and and other processes, etc. The orchards themselves are in fullest bloom (as is most everything else in Ireland). Quite a sight. And they give you a free bottle of apple cider when you check in. (And a couple apples when you check out, too).

We are in County Tipperary and therefore presumably not a long way to Tipperary, itself.

Dawn in the orchard

Apple blossoms

The camp kitchen

Apple crunching and juicing machines

Waterford

At the Waterford Crystal visitor center; unfortunately, the clock was too big for our RV

More Waterford

Outside Waterford, more to my taste: the Bulmers brewery vat farm...humongous

Monday we slept in again, and awoke to rain and cold...temperatures overnight were in the forties. During a lull in the rain, we took down the tent, ate, showered, and packed for more travel. Our sight for the day was Waterford and the Waterford Crystal works. Waterford Crystal has fallen again—only the visitor center is open now, no factory tours (no factory), bought by Americans, future very uncertain. I predict Waterford Crystal will be made henceforth in Viet Nam, until the labor there becomes too expensive. The visitor center displays were impressive, but one could not help feeling in a tomb. We did a bit to stimulate the local economy—in this case, funds for a sunk, not sinking, ship—took some pix, and moved on, up the road to Cahir, where we are spending the night in the neatest and most unusual campground we have yet seen.

Brownhill Dolmen and Kilkenny

Sunday, after sleeping in a bit, we decamped and drove on through more lovely countryside, rolling green hills, beautiful fields, stone houses and fences, ancient buildings and features here and there...just the Ireland you'd imagine. At length we arrived at Carlow to see the Brownhill Dolmen (see illustration), with its 150 ton capstone, reputedly the largest in Europe. From there, we drove on to Kilkenny, to see the early 13th century castle and Kilkenny's High Street. Alas, both, IMHO, were forgettable. If you ever want to see a Norman castle done over to Victorian needs and tastes, then Kilkenny is for you. As for High Street, see illustrations.

We camped Sunday night near Kilkenny, a non-luxury but very nice place, 17 euros, a friendly owner who filled us in on a variety of matters. The drunks arrived about 2 AM again, but were not quite so repulsive as the previous evening.

Kilkenny, Ireland May 2, 2009

First, for the practical. More problems with shipping the Roadtrek. We did not measure it ourselves, but relied on the manufacturer's measurements. We received an email from the shipping broker telling us that it was actually much bigger—to the tune of $450. Part of the problem is that we didn't fold back the side mirrors. Would the shipper do it for us? Sorry, just pay or arrange for someone to meet them at the dock to re-measure together. Can't wait to get it in Germany and measure it for ourselves. They know they have you by the short hairs! We haven't had email for 2 days now—can't wait to see what the next problem is. Sweet Norm got a cashier's check for us and priority mailed it. Hope we can find some way to pay Norm and Marie back for all they've done for us.

Now, to the good news. Ireland is really quite wonderful. First 3 nights were at Avalon House, Dublin hostel. It was an intsy, bitsy room but spotlessly clean with linens and breakfast. All for only $70 a night. Ireland is frightfully expensive—we did one load of wash yesterday---$13. A Big Mac meal runs just at $13.50. It is supposed to be one of the most expensive areas in all Europe and I can readily believe it. We walked all over Dublin—I'm sure Mark will highlight everything.

I particularly loved going in the National Library reading room where Joyce, Yeats, and many others spent hours reading and working. It is all closed stacks but they have many reference books lining the walls—many that we had at Sentinel and in the same Dewey numbers, I might add. I spoke to one of the librarians about their using Dewey—he said that in the last ten years all new books were only being cataloged by by acquisition date and size. Since it is closed stacks they had done it to save shelf space. He hates it but space is money in big libraries.

I also loved Trinity Library. First the wonderful displays about the Book of Kells with films of early bookbinding methods and illuminated manuscript techniques; then the Book itself; then up to The Long Room—truly one of the most magnificent sites in the library world. Google image it as we couldn't take pictures. Dublin is a librarian's dream.

One further note of personal genealogical interest. Our family has very few records about my father's paternal side of the family—the McCoy's. All I knew growing up was that they were Scotch Irish and from Georgia. My grandfather was definitely born in America but I don't know about his father. From an earlier trip to Scotland I knew that McCoy was originally Mackay and from the northwest part of Scotland. They were one of the first clans the English relocated to Ireland as they were notoriously violent—killing for money and for sport. I had assumed that the name got changed when they came to America as so many were. Anyway while at the National Library I leafed through a book of Irish surnames and found McCoy. It said most were located in Limerick and Cork. Then yesterday when we were in Glendalough to see the famous monastary ruins from the 6th century, we drove past the McCoy Convenience Store. We stopped in and I spoke to one of the McCoy's wives. She didn't know much family history but said her husband's grandfather had died in his 90s and had lived all his life in that town. However, she didn't know of any other McCoy families in that area of southeast Ireland. Maybe we will run into some more as we travel through Cork tomorrow. Vicki.

The Brownhill Dolmen, near Carlow; we like neolithic stuff

Kilkenny Castle; yawn

High Street in Kilkenny; but no Tex-Mex, no BBQ, no Lonestar, nor Pearl, nor
even Dr. Pepper

But the interior was pretty nice

Avoca, Glendalough, and Sallygap

Saturday we did the wash at the campground, 10 Euros ($13), and then drove out to Avoca, for lunch and to see Ireland's oldest still-running textile mill. It was impossible not to buy something you saw coming right off the loom. From Avoca we drove to Glendalough, a ruined monastery that dates from the 6th century. It reached its height in about the 13th century and then declined as the Normans took over and imposed their structures and people. A surprising amount of the old buildings are still around, including the round tower, and there are all the stories about St. Kevin.... We wanted to see a bit of the Wicklow Mountains, so, after Glengalough, we drove the Military Road as far as Sallygap, and then back down another valley. OK, they are not the Alps. They are not exactly the Appalachians, for that matter. I suppose they must get more attractive when the heather comes on. There is occasional conifer forest, matched by conifer clear-cuts and conifer slash. We proceeded on. We camped a second night at Red Cross. It was a memorable evening. About 2 in the morning, the drunks started arriving back at their encampments. One was right next to us, a few feet away, a lovely couple from Waterford (so the car decal said) who fought and fornicated in their full outside voices well beyond the wee hours. Bad sex is better than no sex, as they say. Anyhow, I shall never again think of Waterford in quite the same way. It was the May bank holiday, and “part of our culture, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” as was later explained to us.

At Avoca Mills, Ireland's oldest operating textile mill; all this yarn goes into This big machine, culminating in the fabric on top... The Glendalough Monastery in the distance Chapel and round tower at Glendalough Some of the Wicklow Mountains; we were not blown away Saturday we did the wash at the campground, 10 Euros ($13), and then drove out to Avoca, for lunch and to see Ireland's oldest still-running textile mill. It was impossible not to buy something you saw coming right off the loom. From Avoca we drove to Glendalough, a ruined monastery that dates from the 6th century. It reached its height in about the 13th century and then declined as the Normans took over and imposed their structures and people. A surprising amount of the old buildings are still around, including the round tower, and there are all the stories about St. Kevin.... We wanted to see a bit of the Wicklow Mountains, so, after Glengalough, we drove the Military Road as far as Sallygap, and then back down another valley. OK, they are not the Alps. They are not exactly the Appalachians, for that matter. I suppose they must get more attractive when the heather comes on. There is occasional conifer forest, matched by conifer clear-cuts and conifer slash. We proceeded on. We camped a second night at Red Cross. It was a memorable evening. About 2 in the morning, the drunks started arriving back at their encampments. One was right next to us, a few feet away, a lovely couple from Waterford (so the car decal said) who fought and fornicated in their full outside voices well beyond the wee hours. Bad sex is better than no sex, as they say. Anyhow, I shall never again think of Waterford in quite the same way. It was the May bank holiday, and “part of our culture, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” as was later explained to us.

Leaving Dublin, Heading South

In St. Stephen's Green

The Famine Sculpture, St. Stephen's Green

Ulysses on the sidewalk

Leinster House; the National Library is on one side, the National Museum on the other

Our latest car, a Kia Picanto

Friday, May 1, we packed up, lockered our gear, and checked out of the Avalon House. We strolled around the south side of the river, having become more and more familiar with the CBD in the past three days, shopped along Grafton St., and then walked around St. Stephen's Green. For most of the day we returned to Kildare St. and looked around the wonderful exhibits in the National Museum. The stone and bronze age items were of particular interest, as were those from the Celtic Christian and Viking eras. Several video presentations enhanced the extraordinary artifacts. From the museum, we passed back by Trinity for the VAT refund form on the previous day's purchases, and also Peterson's Pipe Store, crossed the Liffey, lunched on Marks and Spencer's specials, and then finished our Dublin experience with the purchase of a GPS device at PC World (we've been researching, shopping for this). More of this later.

We collected our six bags at Avalon House, schlepped them down the street a block, and then caught the 16A bus back to the airport to pick up our rental car at Irish Car Rentals. We had been hoping for another Subaru Forester (dream on...) or an upgrade of any sort, but, alas, were presented with a Kia Picanto. In size, it is the next thing up from a Smart Car. But it will do. The most challenging aspect of the matter is that it is a manual transmission model, so that, in addition to re-learning how to drive on the “proper” side and “proper” side traffic patterns, I also have to shift with my left hand. Fortunately, I am somewhat ambidextrous (I was fully ambidextrous as a child; another story...). Vicki has had to prompt me onto the left side a couple of times, and I have stalled the car a couple times, but, otherwise, we are coping.

After a few practice turns in the rental car parking lot, we sallied forth onto the N50, around Dublin, found the N11 and then, at length, our campground at Red Cross, near the Wicklow mountains. This navigational feat was helped along by our navigator, Tom (Thom Thomas?), who speaks with a decidedly British accent, although he is multi-lingual and can do female impersonations as well. (We bought a TomTom One, with maps for 31 European nations.) Tom is a marvel and already our guide and best friend.