Ireland - Day Four - Dingle to Doolin

Day Four - Up the Coast

We headed out, bright and early, sans “Big Irish Breakfast”, to see the Gallarus Oratory, a beautifully-preserved 6th Century Beehive Hut on the Dingle loop.

This is the coldest I remember being in Ireland

The Gallarus is normally part of a “tour” that begins at a tourist centre down the road. It's not open in the winter, so we just drove up to within sight of the Gallarus and walked over to it. I read that the tourist centre does a good job of filling one in on the history of the G.O., but it was nice just to go see it and leave, without it taking up too much of our day, as we had a lot planned for Day Four. It was very cool, though, and I'm glad we made the detour to check it out. It's another structure made without mortar, and it has the distinction of still being completely watertight, after 1,500 years. There is one window in the back wall, and it feels very solemn and ancient and peaceful inside.

After we took in the Gallarus, we backtracked to Dingle and then headed west and north, through a high mountain pass (Connor Pass) I'd heard had: Fabulous views! A waterfall! Stunning vistas everywhere! However, we had climbed only a little ways up the mountain when we entered a fog as thick as frosting. (In the picture above, of me walking toward the Gallarus, you can see it hanging over the mountain to the east, right where we were headed!) You couldn't see 5 feet in any direction. As I'd read that the road has pretty harrowing drop-offs to either side as it winds upwards, and it was definitely curvy and narrow, that might have been a good thing. Thierry drove this bit, and I busied myself with the map and hummed.


An incredible scenic overlook!	This was the only time on the whole trip that our plans were foiled by the weather. Guess we can't complain.

Coming down out of the pass, the fog cleared and we had good weather for the rest of the trip across the top of Dingle peninsula, to Tralee, where we stopped for a drink. We had a pint in a pub that I remember quite vividly (and fondly) as having a very Irish feel, as the publican and a regular were chatting in Gaelic, and there was a peat fire in the fireplace, which we sat by and consulted the map, to plan the day, while having (what else) a Guinness. Actually, I was the one who only drank Guinness. Thierry tried lots of the local brews. I just couldn't get enough of that Guinness!

We then took some time to stop at the library in Tralee and use the computer, so I could send an email home. The keyboard was strangely-configured and had a sticky space key (not sticky like gummy, but sticky in that it was hard to press) and the computer was very dial-up slow and kept crashing. After losing my work twice, my final attempt got through, which turned out to be a telegram-like greeting sent only to my mom.

A bizarre store in... Tralee?

From Tralee we drove North to Talbert, where we'd planned to catch a Ferry across the River Shannon. This would save us a long drive inward and around, through Limerick, where no one wants to go because, you know, that guy lives there. That guy from Nantucket.

So, we arrived in Tarbert and had about 45 minutes to wait for the next ferry. I was very excited for some reason. Taking a ferry boat ride seemed like a very cool thing to do, and I'd been looking forward to it.


Waiting for fairies.	These palm trees were everywhere, and they fascinated us, as we never pictured Ireland as having such tropical foliage.

Does it look windy and cold? It was.	And bright, too.

That's our car, on the far wall, behind the white van. The cars were packed in quite tightly, but there's empty space in the foreground because they leave a space of about 3-4 cars in front of any tractor-trailer trucks on the ferry. Don't know why...	The Ferry exit, near Killimer. Pretty country.

We left the ferry (the trip took about 20 minutes) and drove north, happy to have avoided a long detour inland. We veered towards the coast and followed it, more or less, all the way to Doolin, our destination for the night. This part of the country was yet again a totally different landscape than anything we'd yet seen. In Ireland, the flavor changes every 30 miles or so, which is fabulous! This area was very beach-resort-ish and the houses were darling and well-maintained. If I had to guess, I would say that this area is more of a weekend and summer getaway for the Irish, whereas the peninsulas are definitely international destinations. Where we were headed (Doolin) was also more of an international destination, but I'd say that this lower portion of County Clare is probably more for the nationals. And we saw the world's most charming trailer park somewhere around Quilty, I believe. I'd give anything if I'd taken a picture. Spanish Point, about halfway up the coast, was gorgeous too, but again, I was too busy ooo-ing and ahhh-ing to take a picture!

Day four - Dingle to the G.O., back up through Connor Pass, northeast to Tarbert, ferry across the River Shannon, and then up the coast to the Cliffs of Moher and Doolin. The loop above Doolin we drove counter-clockwise, which was unfortunate, because I think the best stuff was on the ocean side, and it was getting dark by the time we got there.

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