We woke up late.
Of all the mornings to sleep in, this wasn’t the one. We had booked the 10am Skellig boat tour out of Portmagee and had imagined us waking around 7am and taking things at leisurely pace. Nope, wasn’t to be. We had looked sleepily at our phones, possibly swore and leapt out of bed. It was nearly 8.15 – we had an hour to get ready before we left for Portmagee.
Hubby went off to wash while I put the bed away, fed The Pup, got organised and put the kettle on, but within seconds, the gas spluttered and the flame disappeared. Tried again, but no, just wouldn’t fire up. Had we run out of gas? The bottle had no indicator so no way of knowing apart from we would be missing our morning cuppa. I told hubby on his return of the impending disaster and he went to check the bottle in the back of the van. Transpired that we never turned the gas on last night when we got back – a quick twizzle of the knob and hey presto, the hob burst into life and disaster was averted. We do have these moments.
It’s overcast, but 19 degrees and humid. I went to wash myself and the breakfast bits down by reception, and realised that the radio was being piped through speakers. A traffic report was being broadcast with a list of accidents and incidents across Ireland and it was really weird. You forget that normal life is carrying on – people going to work, school runs, shopping while you’re happily meandering a tranquil corner of Ireland. You’re suddenly brought back to reality albeit briefly.
Finally we were kind of organised, but not to our normal standard and headed back to Portmagee. On the way, on a long country road was a little sign advertising “Marion’s Hair Salon” outside a tiny little house. Immediately you think she can’t do much trade, but looking around at all the scattered houses and homesteads nearby, Marion clearly has tapped into an opening for rural hairdressing.
At Portmagee, with the sun thinking about coming out, we parked up in the church car park (official parking area for boat trips) and walked the couple of minutes to the quay. It is a very neat, attractive little village with locals out sweeping and keeping it tidy. (Actually, this corner of Ireland seems to be litter free). On the way, I bobbed into the Post Office as I had failed to purchase stamps for a birthday to America. As I had already got Irish stamps from the other day, I just wanted a top up. The lovely lady behind the counter looked at me with a smile on her face as I described my error and explained the Irish postal system, which so simple. Basically, they have one price for letters being sent within Ireland and another price for international postage. So the eight stamps I bought to cover England, also covered the rest of the world. Nothing extra. I explained England’s convoluted system of 1st and 2nd class, having to weigh letters and cards (even the size can be checked) and charged accordingly. No wonder the price of stamps in the UK keep rising with all that faff. Royal Mail take note!
Feeling happy, we jumped on our boat with a Japanese couple and six Americans. The Pup was intrigued by this new adventure, but not fazed. The boat pootled out of the harbour and gradually increased his speed as he headed to open water – suddenly he put his foot down and we zipped across the open sea. The cloud was quite low and soon the coastline of Kerry disappeared into the murk and we were in the middle of avast expanse of water. It was only 8 miles to the islands and as we were all at the back of the boat, we didn’t see the islands appear – though you smelt the guano first. Suddenly, a rock face loomed in front of the boat and ended in a jagged peaks – this was Little Skellig – with thousands of gannets perched and nesting on every crook and cranny as others flew above. The Pup didn’t know where to look first – she was fascinated. It was a really amazing, beautiful sight and with the mist covering the tops, it had a mystical air. We slowly circled Little Skellig, an island purely of rock, a home just for birds, it was just breath taking. The skipper took us down little inlets and we saw seals bobbing in the water or sleeping on rocks. Its just felt very primeval, dark, brooding, untouched by humans.
The skipper opened up his engines and took us to Skellig Michael, the bigger island and again, it brooded above the waves. There was grass cascading down the steep valleys, which contrasted against the wet dark rock. People could go onto the island for a wander and there was a small flotilla of boats disgorging passengers onto a little jetty. Our boat wasn’t designated to land and anyway, dogs aren’t allowed on the island. There seemed to be a path wending its way around the island up to the 6th Century monastery on the summit. Monks inhabited this lonely island, making it their home – they grew vegetables, had animals, ate the eggs and somehow clung onto this tiny little rock, which seemed to have no flat areas at all – just plummeting craggy cliffs. The skipper pointed out one of the three sets of steps they chiselled out of the rock, to make stairs up to their lofty monastery which twisted and turned in between chunks of rock. These were very brave men indeed way back in the 6th century – how on earth did they get there and be able to settle so successfully?
Further around, following the high path, it was with dismay that humans had desecrated this wonderful place with covered walkways (which seemed to have seen better days) and what looked like a decaying helicopter pad. Yuk. Skellig Michael was now famous as it was the location for the final scene of the Star Wars film “The Force Awakens” and the following film where Rey finds Luke Skywalker mooching around in solitude and not to happy to see her. Who thought that this location was a good idea for a film? It was actually a perfect setting, but the logistics – the film crew had restricted hours on the island and the boat companies used to ferry the crew and actors out there. There are numerous sites on Google covering Skellig Michael and the Star Wars connection. The insurance for the actors must of been astronomical!
Soon, it was time to head back and within minutes, the islands had disappeared into the low cloud and were gone. The Pup fell asleep in our arms exhausted by lots of bird watching. Within 30 minutes, we were back on terra firma and looking for somewhere to eat. A harbourside restaurant called the Seafront (and we read it as Seafood) offered only the usual sandwiches, paninis and cake but we wanted seafood. Someone had mentioned the Fisherman pub down the road and we entered a rather basic, somewhat dated establishment – more of a bar than anything else and sat down at a table. Its menu offered various seafood options and we plumped for a seafood platter and a crab and prawn tagliatelle. The tagliatelle arrived with actual crab claws and whole prawns mixed in the pasta with a lovely creamy sauce. The platter was huge. The food was fantastic, really tasty and lots of it. You wouldn’t put the pub and this food together. Just shows you never to judge a book by its cover.
We found the van again and decided to go on a drive across the bridge to the island of Valentia and followed the signs to Knightstown, the main town on the island. There was a ferry service from here over to Cahersiveen where our campsite was, but we opted to do more investigating. We dropped down a steep, hairpinned hill to a lighthouse and parked up on a gravelly lay-by for a cuppa with fab views out to sea. We hadn’t been there long when a young couple rocked up in car, parked at the other end and went walking on the rocks. Then another car appeared – an elderly couple who parked right next door to us and preceded to get out large white plastic chairs out of their boot and set up a picnic. We tolerated them for a while and then headed off, still amazed that they had stuffed rigid garden chairs in their car, first to a dead end where there was a coastguard station and an area where tetrapods had been found which even the guide book said not to bother with. We turned around and followed our noses until we dropped down back to the bridge. A quick detour to Bray viewpoint, where the car park afforded a splendid panoramic view of the valley, past Portmagee looking very pretty and out to sea where the Skelligs could be seen quite clearly now after having shaken off their cloudy headwear. Typical.
We drove back to Cahersiveen and decided to check out the High Street. It was quite significant with a long string of shops on either side and a huge dominant church (which we can see from our campsite) in the middle. The Daniel O’Connell Memorial Church built in 1888 – it was so intriguing that I had to Google it later. It was busy and chaotic with people and traffic and we were starting to feel tired from the trip this morning. So we decided to head back to base via SuperValu for some food for The Pup. The back of the van looked like a bomb had gone off, bits everywhere, so we spent a few minutes putting stuff back in its rightful spot, before setting down and relaxing in the sun. It was 21 degrees with hazy sunshine but a keen breeze. The campsite seems busier tonight (then we realised it was Friday – you lose all sense of time and day) and we got new neighbours. We watched little boats chug up the river, watched herons fish for their tea and listened to sandpipers in the reeds. Wagtails seem quite prolific too. We ended up not doing much tonight – think everything had caught up with us and we went to bed quite early, though it’s still ridiculously light gone 10pm.
Tomorrow we will head to Dingle to see what that holds in store for us.
apathtosomewhere 