Irish I was Still There, Part 2

March 27, 2017

Irish I was Still There, Part 2

Next up on our travel Irish travel itinerary: I’ll give you a guess. It starts with the letter P.

My favorite day, and not just for its name.

Peninsula Day.

We set out foggy and early from Blarney with the intent to drive clockwise around the entire Ring of Kerry and then up a little north around the Dingle Peninsula, which is the best way to have a Dingle at all, in my opinion. The whole day was (unsurprisingly) so picturesque and serene, like something out of a movie, especially as we wended our way through the Irish countryside, rolling hills and craggy cliffs and resplendent ocean views out our windows.

Rick Steves, our literary tour guide, told us about the different medieval ring forts around the Ring we were driving, and we thought it a good idea to ring in our Ring drive with a ring of ring forts, not knowing in the least bit what they were. Staigue Fort was a little off the beaten path from Sneem, but completely deserted when we approached, save for a couple unsuspecting sheep we startled upon entering.

The fort was peculiar and entrancing all at once – a circular stone wall built 18 feet high and 4 feet thick, 90 feet wide, with a very narrow entrance. BUT WHY?? WHAT WAS IT FOR? Believed to be built around the late Iron Age, maybe 300-400 AD, this fort, set up on a hill, was most likely constructed as a means of protection. Whether it was built to heard cattle into, or for people to dwell in safety with their huts built inside the perimeter of the fort, or as a retreat when people in the area were threatened or attacked, historians can't be certain. However, the fact that there was a good sized ditch running around the fort, which was already on a hill, caused me to reflect on Captain Moroni making preparations for battle. There's a little Mormon mystery for you.

Inside the fort, at periodic intervals, the stones had been constructed in a way that created a series of steps up to a small outcropping or shelf about midway up the wall, and then additional steps were made up to the top of the wall from there, and this stair-step pattern was repeated around the entire circle. When Kilee and I first arrived, it was just us and the sheep and our own speculation about Staigue’s curious backstory, but we were soon joined by additional tourists, including a darling older Irish couple from Cork who asked to take a photo with the two of us.

From Staigue, we continued driving up and around the windy twisty coast, stopping briefly to pop out at Carroll’s Cove to collect some shells and play with a dog and run into the water. I loved that we’d chosen to come to Ireland during the off season when there were hardly any other tourists around to bother us and clog the roads and beaches.

Everywhere we drove it seemed, Kilee and I would exclaim over how perfect and wonderful the passing scenery looked, and because the Ireland Department of Transportation was well aware, there were frequent pull-outs on the side of the road so we could jump out of our car and enjoy the view. Like: at Coomakesta Pass.

Approximately around this time, Kilee challenged me to take my turn driving lefty-loosey, so at least I would have that authentic experience. At first I couldn’t stop giggling because it felt so unnatural, and she was worried we would have to pull over again so I could calm down. I drove us into Waterville, where we didn’t have a chance to look at the statue of Charlie Chaplin but we did have a chance to look at the ocean and think big thoughts about our futures. However, after wildly careening off the road into the bushes and brambles anytime a car attempted to pass me a time too many, Kilee resumed driving responsibilities, and I resumed badly navigating because I was too busy talking or singing to give her the appropriate timely directions.

Oh wait, what did we stumble upon then? A chocolate factory? In Skellig? Yes, a chocolate factory, in Skellig, dreamily overlooking the Irish coastline, because why wouldn’t there be? I can’t make this stuff up. We bought some chocolate and continued on a little ways to St. Finian’s bay, where we took our chocolate and our baguette and our goat cheese and our apple tart and had a picnic down there on the windy beach.

Because why wouldn’t we??

Next up on our drive were the Kerry Cliffs. Rick Steves (RICK STEEVES! - I said that in my STEVE HOLT voice) had told us to prepare ourselves for these cliffs, and that we wouldn’t regret it. Once again, though we weren’t sure what to expect, we parked and made our way up a steep hill to peer off the edge of the earth for ourselves. And could you hear the breath being sucked out of my lungs? Because I was speechless. The view literally took my breath away, it was so astounding.

I realize that I can’t adequately convey the magnificence of the Kerry Cliffs to you, and if I try, I’ll probably cry because they were THAT grand. The cliffs next to the water was one of my favorite natural juxtapositions - the hard versus soft, the dark versus light, and the rigid versus fluid.

(Also: I feel like I'm channeling the guidance counselor from 10 Things I Hate About You because I keep using the same words over and over again and they're starting to lose their meaning.

Judith! What's another word for "resplendent?"

I'll...look it up.)

Don’t you want to just skim that whipped cream foam off the ocean with a palette knife?

And spread it on your apple tart?

Reluctantly continuing on our drive even though I basically wanted to LIVE up there on the Kerry Cliffs, Kilee and I ventured onto Cahersiveen to our 2^nd and 3^rd ring forts of the day: Leacanabuaile and Cahergal.

(Say those five times fast.)

This second one was a little smaller than Staigue, though it had the remnants of a couple dwellings still standing inside the fort, with grass growing on top of the remains, as well as the outer stone wall. It felt like something out of Alice in Wonderland, or like we were atop an elegant hedge maze. The third ring fort was a little bigger and taller, more like an amphitheater, and so we climbed to the top and sat contentedly up there, alone and contemplating the surrealness of this entire experience.

But there was more to see, so we deviated from our course once more, spotting the ruins of Ballycarbery castle in the distance. (NOTE: in the movie Leap Year when Amy Adams and Matthew Goode are waiting for their train, they climb a big hill up to the ruins of a castle. He says it’s Ballycarbery, but it is, in fact the Rock of Dunamase, which we didn’t have time to visit. THE MORE YOU KNOW.)

Now THESE were castle ruins. Only about half of the walls were still standing, the better part of the roof had fallen in, and what structures were still standing were overgrown with thick ivy.

Kilee found a secret second story staircase and clambered up to explore, before pointing out to me that there was another, more easily accessible staircase on the far side of the structure. Picking my way over the ivy and through some collapsed stone walls, I joined Kilee up on the second and third floors as we explored through partially standing chambers and passageways. It felt so secret and novel, like we had discovered this castle and were searching through it for the first time since it had fallen into dilapidated and enchanting ruin hundreds of years earlier.

^^This is the Kilee climbing into the secret staircase and then peering at me through a hole in the roof of the great hall.

Again, I could have lived there, but time was of the essence! The sun was starting to set and we hadn’t explored Dingle at all. Dingle was one of the quaintest, most adorable little seaside towns, but we wanted to pay the entire peninsula her dues, so we didn’t have time to stop and sightsee. Going back, we probably could have spent an entire day in Dingle. WE were the real Dingles for not thinking of that! But with what light remained from the day, we sped along the coastline so we could actually have a chance to see what the fuss was all about it. Believe me: the fuss was well worth it.

As the sun set, its light was diffused through the filmy clouds, and the wind whipped the water into turbulent froth. We stopped at a pullout to absorb the majesty of this moment, before continuing to drive, only to be distracted by an enticing little side street. Little street for our little car? Why not? It was only a short distance, but this little detour took us directly down to the beach, like ONTO the beach. There were no signs telling us where this road would lead, we’d simply had to explore for ourselves, and it was well worth our curiosity. We ended up in this secluded and deserted little alcove, nothing but the dusky light and the roiling waves and dark rock outcroppings. I need to calm down and stop saying this, but it was SO PERFECT.

Rick Steves wanted us to check out another scenic view further down the coast, but instead we found another one of our own and ran back down to the beach a second time, barely able to catch the fading light. The wind, the water, the light. It was all the most wonderful mélange of natural elements to create such a dreamy cotton candy moment.

I know you’re probably thinking that all of these pictures look the same, and while yes it was the same ocean, my joy kept growing exponentially with each scenic view, a point that requires multiple pictures to illustrate.

That night, after a hearty Irish dinner in a traditional Irish pub, both Kilee and I ended up kind of annoyed with me for not understanding geography and reserving our Airbnb that night in Limerick, which was two hours away from Dingle. Granted, we would need to go there eventually, but I’d pushed to get there on the same evening of Peninsula Day solely because the name of the town was so cute. Sorry, Kilee! So to be helpful, I kept her awake by instigating a rousing discussion about women's rights and equality.