Day 9: Dingle to Portmagee A Nice Little Jaunt

It was nice to spend two nights in the same place, but there was more Ireland to see, so we were off once again.

Today's adventure began with breakfast with the group, where we learned that Mary, Ashley, George, and Linda had quite a night out at the pubs. Amber shot me the stink eye and I felt bad about making her miss a fun night out, but only momentarily. I hated missing out on a fun night, too, but my knee felt so much better after rest and magic cream, the guilt quickly dissipated.

We brought our bags out to the Land Rover, which Bébhinn was cleaning out. It looked so clean and shiny! We loaded our bags into the trailer, climbed into the car, and waited for Brian, today's co-pilot, to close the doors.

"Everybody's in!" he called to Bébhinn, tapping twice on the windows.

Bébhinn winced at the hand prints on the glass, and lamented, "I just cleaned that!" 

I couldn't stop giggling about that!

Bébhinn drove us off into the hills, offroading down a dirt path, and finally, down to a gorgeous clearing by a lake, Lough Annascaul. The view was just astounding!

And of course, as was our new tradition, it started raining as soon as we stopped the car. Not Cliffs of Moher type rain, but rain none the less. Ireland sure made us work for our hikes!

The young adults were gone in a flash, halfway up the hill before I'd even changed into my hiking boots. I walked with Linda, and we talked all about our families and our houses, and stopped about a million times to take photos. I just couldn't get over how beautiful it all was, how quiet and peaceful, and the good companions only made it better. 

We were hiking up to a waterfall on the hill top, but all along the way, you could see where it traveled down the mountain, forming smaller waterfalls, and spilling into little rivers.

The dirt path graduated into a craggy, rockier path, which we navigated like billy goats, hopping from one stone to the next, climbing over the wooden styles to get to the next field. Brian and Margie stood at the side of each big stone and style, holding our their hands to help us across. (Kudos to their parents, who raised some outstanding people!) 

The path grew steeper, and eventually it was too much for my knee. It was also a bit much for fellow hiker Jan--she was wearing sneakers, and with the rain and slippery rocks, it was kind of dangerous. 

About three-quarters of the way up, Jan and I turned back down the path. I gasped a little when I turned around, because the view was breathtaking from that high up the hill. The waterfalls to my left, grazing sheep to my right, the lake in front of us, framed by the hills, a soft rain falling on us--it was just amazing. 

It was exactly what'd you picture if you were imagining Ireland, and what it would look like. I could've stayed there forever just staring at that view, but the rain was falling a little harder now, and Jan was getting farther away.

I caught up with Jan, and we talked about her trip so far. She'd been traveling with her husband for two months, to Greece, Croatia, England, and finally to Ireland for Jan, while her husband spent the week golfing with friends in Scotland.


It was nice talking to Jan. She was the oldest in the group, but more importantly, she was the quietest. (Just for reference--I was like the third of fourth funniest and loudest in the group--which NEVER happens!!) I think (I know) sometimes we were all too much for Jan, who was happy to escape on her own with a book.

I also appreciated having an excuse to cut my hikes short by saying, "Oh, I'll walk back with Jan," instead of saying, "My gimpy knee is killing me and I can't walk another step!" And trust me, although I pretended to be helpful, I knew the truth--even though Jan was older, she could walk rings around me! She'd walked 110 miles across England 10 years ago, so I knew who the real gimp was! 

Nate, Ben and Ashley passed us on our way down, but at least we beat everyone else! We loaded up the Vagatron, except for Nate, who ran ahead to open the gate for us.

But there was traffic at the gate--a whole flock of sheep! Bébhinn stopped the car, and the shepherd guided them through the gate, and around our car. We were so excited, laughing and pointing and passing cameras around to photograph them. I thought the lake and valley were the stereotypical Irish scene, but it didn't get more Irish than this!

The flock finally passed by, and Bébhinn bounced us over the dirt road and away. Nate closed the gate behind us, and jumped back into the car, but we only drove about five minutes before running into a second flock of sheep! These guys were running right on the road, and there was no way to pass them. We started laughing again, and I told the group, "I've been in a traffic jam before, but this is a real traffic lamb!" And then I cracked up at my own joke!

We drove past the town of Annascaul, stopping in front of Tom Crean's pub. He was a local hero, even though nobody even knew it until he was an old man!

As a young man, he joined the British Navy, and completed three expeditions to Antarctica. In 1912, his raced to reach the South Pole first, but Tom got in trouble, and the leader banned him from completing the mission. Which worked out okay for him, since the group went astray and ended up freezing to death. Tom made it back alive, but because he'd signed on as a British sailor, he never told anyone in Ireland about his journey (the Irish really don't like how the British continually oppressed them). 

Eventually, Tom's story came out, and he was recognized for his adventures, even getting a beer named after him. Well done, Tom!

We cruised down the coast a bit, then turned off the road and on to Inch Beach. Against her better judgment, Bébhinn let us out of the car, telling us to be back in 15 minutes. We waved and ran off. 

The beach was busy--there were cars everywhere, parked right on the sand! There were also lots of surfers, surfboards, and surfing schools, which Amber and I stopped to watch. The little kids were so cute as they practiced on the beach in their wetsuits, flopping down on to their surfboards in the sand. 

Eventually, the group reconvened at the Land Rover and Bébhinn turned the Land Rover around. At least I thought she was turning it around, but she turned halfway and gunned it down the beach. When we realized we were taking the long way round, the whole group started cheering. 

Bébhinn drove us along the water's edge, all of us chattering excitedly. We took a million photos, sticking our arms and heads out the windows for better shots, watching the sea spray up along the windows, and the sand fly up from behind the car. It was our second offroad trip of the day, and it made me so happy to be in that Land Rover, and not in some stuffy mini-van.

Eventually, Bébhinn guided the Vagatron back to the road, and we were off again. 

"How long is the drive?" I asked Bébhinn, although it really didn't matter--she never told us the truth anyway (15 minutes really meant half an hour, "one hour" meant an hour and a half, and so on). One time Bébhinn even told us, "It's only 10 minutes away, I promise, 10 minutes! I promise! OK, maybe 15 minutes, but definitely not more than 20, I swear!"

"About 45 minutes," she told us, so we all settled in for a 75 minute drive.

Our next stop was Killarney National Park. The drive in to Killarney was gorgeous--we moved inland, away from the coast, and into the forest. It was filled with trees as big as buildings, and lush green plants carpeting the ground. 

As we pulled into town, I was struck by how swanky it all looked--the hotels were much fancier than our humble little village hotels, and even the churches were much grander. We drove by one which was huge, a cathedral, really, with a giant tower out front, and bells ringing. Out front stood a large wedding party taking photos, and we waved and took our own photos. Seemed kind of unusual to have such a large wedding on a random Thursday, and when I asked Bébhinn if that was unusual, she said it was.

Half the group was scheduled for a bike tour, and the other half for a jaunting cart ride. But first, we needed lunch.

As usual, we were running late, so Bébhinn implored us to order something quick. I ordered my new favorite meal, seafood chowder (rivaled only by my other Irish favorite, fish and chips!). Jan and Linda decided to split a burger, but when Jan ordered it medium rare, the waiter shook his head.

"By law, we cook all burgers well-done," he told her, so Jan said, "Well, okay, then, well-done."

Bébhinn, who had filled us with stories of the rebellious Irish, just shook her head. 

"Really?" she asked, in disbelief, after all the stories she told us of how the Irish never enforce any laws. "This is where we Irish draw our line in the sand? On well-done hamburgers?"

We all cracked up!

After lunch, we headed to the park, which is known for its famous red deer. I thought we'd have to look carefully to find them, but nope, there were, grazing right alongside the road. We saw a couple small groups of them, but what was more surprising was that they seemed to be the only wildlife in the whole forest. 

I'd been really excited about Killarney, because the group activity was bike riding through the park. However, my knee injury sidelined that, so I was opting for the jaunting cart, a horse and buggy, instead. Amber was even more excited than I was, and at the last minute, Jan and Mother Mary decided to join us.

Our first stop was for the bikers. The Shinners', Ashley, and George saddled up, put on their helmets, and they were off! I watched them go, a little sad at missing out, but Bébhinn quickly guided us back to Vagatron.

We were so excited about the jaunting cart! The carts have been in Killarney forever, and the licenses to drive them are a treasured commodity, passed down from generation to generation. You can't buy the licenses anywhere, said our driver, who'd received his from his father.

Jan, Mary, Amber and I climber aboard, and we were off to see Killarney!

The park was BEAUTIFUL. We jaunted out into the valley, a lushly forested hill behind us, and a giant lake to our left. A small herd of red deer grazed contently by the lake, staring at us, ears twitching as we clip-clopped by. Assured we meant them no harm, they returned to their meal. 

The park was busy, people everywhere, but so big that we never felt crowded. And it was quiet, so quiet, except for the horse, Captain, who clomped his feet and occasionally blew out a huge breath of air. 

We enjoyed the peaceful ride, listening to our guide tell us all about the park. It was so relaxing, I didn't bad any more about missing the bike ride.

After passing and the main part of the park and the Muckross house, we continued on past some more giant trees, many of them hundreds of years old. Eventually, we came upon the Muckross Abbey, and the driver let us out to explore for a bit. And as soon as we stepped out of the carriage, a gentle rain began to fall. 

We all laughed, because that's what Ireland does to us every time we get out of the vehicle!

The Abbey was old, with lots of stone walls and arched doorways. It had a beautiful cemetery with giant Celtic crosses and bright flowers everywhere. It was so quiet, a lovely place to be buried.

Amber, Mary, Jan and I wandered the hallways, admiring the gorgeous building. It seemed untouched, and I could easily imagine a monastic life here, monks gliding through the hallways, up and down all the secretive little stone staircases.

A giant yew stood proudly in the courtyard. The magnificent tree, more than 600 years old, was twisted all around the trunk, but its branches lifted up high past the walls, as though reaching up to God. It was beautiful, spiritual, and I could see why the Irish treasured the yew so.

We climbed to the top of the abbey, and were rewarded with another view of the cemetery, and the park beyond it. 

The rain began to fall a little harder, so we returned to our covered carriage. The driver cracked the reins, and Captain was off again, leading us back toward the lake.

We continued on, over steep hilly cliffs above the lakes, past tiny islands in the water, and through dense holly along the path. I've never seen wild holly before, and it was growing everywhere, pointy leaves fighting to get sunlight. 

We passed bikers, and walkers, and families chasing after running babies. We circled back around the giant trees, eventually pulling up to the final stop in front of the Muckross House.

I was super relaxed after the ride, and easily could've napped on the lawn between the house and the lake. I knew there was a waterfall nearby, but wasn't sure my knee would hold up on another hike, so when Jan suggested taking the house tour, we all joined in.

The mansion, built in 1843 for Henry Herbert and his wife, Mary, had 65 lavishly decorated rooms. The family happily occupied it until a renovation for Queen Victoria's visit drove them into financial ruin. The mansion was then purchased by the grandson of Guinness magnate Arthur Guinness, who in turn sold it to a wealthy Californian mining magnate, William Bowers Bourne, who gifted it to his daughter for her wedding. After she died, Bourne donated the land to the Irish government, creating Killarney National Park.

The house was an interesting contrast from the famine cabins and monastic stone beehives we'd previously seen. Everything in it was custom built, from the giant serving stations in the dining room, to the hand-carved furniture in the many drawing rooms, to the pool table that was so heavy, the floor was re-enforced to keep from collapsing. 

The walls were papered with fragile Asian silk paintings, or hung huge animal heads or stuffed birds of prey. Hunting was a popular activity, so gun racks also decorated the walls. We viewed the regal dining rooms, the drawing rooms and libraries, the dance hall, the suites of bedrooms with spectacular views of the lake, and the nursery. Eventually, the guide led us downstairs to the servant's domain, through the kitchen, the pantries and the massive wine cellar. It was overwhelming to see such a display of wealth, especially when the rest of Ireland seemed completely void of such basic natural resources like food and heat. 

The biking group whizzed past us as we were leaving the mansion, and we all hooted and waved excitedly (we hadn't seen them for two whole hours!). Turns out, the bike ride was pretty tough, and kicked their butts. Turns out my wonky knee did me a favor by keeping me off the bikes.

It was late afternoon by the time we drove out of Killarney, and we were beat. I was super excited because we were scheduled to drive the Ring of Kerry to our final stop of the day, Portmagee. The Ring of Kerry is supposed to be one of the most scenic routes in Ireland.

Bébhinn knew we liked games, so she put on a Chieftains CD so we could guess who was singing duets with them. I love music, so I thought I'd do well, but I had some stiff competition--Brian and George are both big music fans as well. They were beating me pretty bad at first, so I just started calling out all the Irish musicians I knew--Dolores O'Riordan (the Cranberries), Sinead O'Connor, Van Morrison. I was soon tied with Brian, but mostly through luck, not skill. 

Everyone else drifted off to sleep, so Brian and I teamed up, working together to guess the duets. We played for a good 45 minutes, and had a really good time bonding over music.

We were well into the drive when I asked Bébhinn when we'd get to the Ring of Kerry. She told me we'd been driving on it the whole time! I was not that impressed--it was pretty, sure, but not any prettier than the rest of Ireland we'd seen so far.

There was one hairy bit, though, when we climbed up a steep, skinny road. We climbed higher and higher, with nothing but a wimpy wire fence between us and the gigantic cliff that ended at the ocean. The road was not only skinny, it was also covered by low-hanging trees, and the car scraped the side and the top as we slowly inched up the road. It was so nerve-wracking I had to close my eyes--I couldn't take it, and I didn't want to see if we went tumbling down the mountain! I was just grateful there were no cars coming down the mountain at that time.

The road curved at the top, turning into another skinny, windy road. Bébhinn whipped around the corners, driving us through tiny villages and fields of sheep. Suddenly, we saw a little lamb crying. His head was stuck in the fence, and he was trying desperately to get it out.

Bébhinn slammed on the brakes, waking up all the sleepers. She hopped out of the car and ran over to the lamb.

"Where are we?" somebody asked, with a yawn.

"There's a lamb stuck in the fence," we answered. "Bébhinn went to help!" 

We weren't sure what to do--nobody else had any experience with farm animals. Brian and Nate hopped out to help, and after much help from Bébhinn and the Shinners, we saw the lamb shake its head free, headbutt another lamb waiting nearby, and then run off with that lamb. 

"Bébhinn saved the lamb!" we cried out when she returned to the car. She hopped in, buckled up, and drove off, shaking away our praise. 

"They get trapped like that, they can die," she said, matter-of-factly. Her dad is a sheep farmer, so she knew how to help. She told us when a sheep needs help, you do what you can--her dad even jumped off a cliff once to save his flock, and he couldn't swim! (He saved the sheep, though.)

And then we just drove off. It wasn't enough that We weren't sure what to do--nobody else had any experience with farm animals. Brian and Nate hopped out to help, and after much help from Bébhinn and the Shinners, we saw the lamb shake its head free, headbutt another lamb waiting nearby, and then run off with that lamb. 

"Bébhinn saved the lamb!" we cried out when she returned to the car. She hopped in, buckled up, and drove off, shaking away our praise. 

"They get trapped like that, they can die," she said, matter-of-factly. Her dad is a sheep farmer, so she knew how to help. She told us when a sheep needs help, you do what you can--her dad even jumped off a cliff once to save his flock, and he couldn't swim! (He saved the sheep, though.)

And then we just drove off. It wasn't enough that Bébhinn drove us around and kept us all safe, she even saved random stuck sheep! She's a true hero!

We finally rolled into Portmagee around 7. It was a tiny town, only one hotel and one pub (that's our red hotel, the Moorings). 

I took a quick peek around, but we were all exhausted, so we quickly checked in, then met downstairs for dinner.

It was a fairly mellow dinner, for this loud crowd, anyway. We were tired, but we were also pretty sad--this was Bébhinn's last night with us (Irish law says drivers can only drive for 6 days in a row). Bébhinn kept telling us to go easy on our next guide, Darren. 

Bébhinn was as sad about leaving us as we were, although she tried not to let on. She gave herself away at one point, though, saying, "Who am I gonna have dinner with tomorrow night?"

We almost burst into tears, then told her she needed to Skype us, so we could all eat together!

We reminisced about the tour, and thanked Bébhinn for taking such good care of us.

"Were we good craic, Bébhinn?" Brian asked, using the Irish term for fun or good times.

"Aw, ye were mad craic!" she laughed. "The maddest! What a craic pack!"

And that's how we earned our group name, the Craic Pack! We loved the apt description, and immediately raised our glasses to cheer. We were so sad to see Bébhinn go, we felt like we were losing one of our own family members. But it was also a really nice night, all of us together one last time, passing around email addresses and contact info, and toasting one of own. 

And, Bébhinn reminded us, it wasn't quite done yet--we still had one last breakfast together. So off we went to bed, tired but full, both in our stomachs and our hearts.