We woke up to overcast skies and a keen wind.
After tea and biccies in bed, we decided to head to the nearby village of Carrigaholt for breakfast as recommended by Neil, our campsite host. To Amelia’s cafe to be precise – Neil’s builder friend had renovated it, alongside numerous other buildings in the village and Neil was happily promoting the fact. So we eagerly packed up and headed that way, (checking out a nearby bay for a beach – it was tiny and not very inspiring), parking in a little square where the Post Office was playing music through an outdoor speaker. Amelia’s was on a corner and we stuck our heads in to check if The Pup could come in. Unfortunately no. Ireland is apparently very strict about dogs in shops (retailers need to get a special licence) so The Pup had to stay in the Van.
Our dream of a bacon butty vapourised as we sat down – it was cakes, toast and croissants, so instead of a full Irish breakfast we went continental. The lady who ran it was lovely, very chatty and apologetic about The Pup. The cafe was beautifully decorated with exposed beams, stone walls and painted in a pale green. It was a credit to the builder and his foresight (they had only been opened 4 weeks – the building had stood neglected for nearly 20 years before that. Imagine a derelict building slap bang in the middle of the village?). A Dutch couple approached us and recognised us from the campsite – they are following the Wild Atlantic Way northwards just like us – we joked about bumping into each other for the rest of our trip.
The sun had come out and despite the wind, we wandered down a country lane with The Pup to the Carrigaholt Tower about 1km away. Information boards gave us an insight to its history, but now it stood as a tall ruin, overlooking the mouth of the Shannon. Looking into the bay, we spotted about 5 dolphins swimming in the water – apparently there are quite a few that hang out around here and it was great to watch them. We have seen very little wildlife so far.
We met an English couple who started chatting until she realised that she was losing credit and other important cards out of her phone case. They walked back with us until she spotted them lying on the ground. They too were doing exactly our route too! We sauntered back and jumped back into the van to continue our journey. With the mountains gone and the countryside relatively flat, we decided to spend more time visiting places rather than being scenery junkies, keen to see the next amazing view. So we followed coastal roads (not necessarily the WAW – I’m fed up typing the name so I’m going to use the initials from now on – and just before the village of Kilbaha, we came across a spectacular outcrop of rock, almost horizontally poking out into the sea. Nature is so beautiful.
We carried on towards the Loop House Lighthouse, noting that there seemed to be more crofter style cottages, albeit rendered and painted. They hunkered down in dips in the land, protected from the onslaught of wind straight off the Atlantic. Some looked quite old, others relatively modern, but they looked comfortable in their surroundings.
Loop House Lighthouse appeared in the distance and we went to park in the little car park. Three euros got us a ticket for a general wander – dogs weren’t allowed in the lighthouse for the guided tour – so we checked out the little visitor centre, poked our noses in the little cafe and had a wander around the grassy grounds. The sun had disappeared and the wind dragged in cloud off the ocean. Studying Neil’s hieroglyphics on the map he gave us, the Bridge of Ross seemed to be our next destination – on the way out we bumped into our Dutch couple and spotted the Credit Card couple’s van too.
We meandered up to the Bridge of Ross through wild, windswept and remote countryside, with stubby trees and hedges. It was a different kind of beauty, a beauty of hardships and struggles. The land was relatively flat and to our right, we could see the River Shannon again. The Bridge of Ross again had a small car park and we followed a fenced gravelly path alongside plummeting cliffs and a collapsed sinkhole. There was a stiff breeze here and despite the temperature supposedly being 17 degrees, the wind chill factor brought it down considerably. Everybody was wrapped up in jackets and woolly hats. The path finally brought us to the “bridge” where the sea had burrowed its way under our feet and left a parcel of land to cross over to the rocks beyond. One day, it would collapse and an island would be created. Waves crashed against the rock and sprayed up – amazing as it was, this was quite tempered. What would it be like during a winter storm?
Feeling chilly, we went back to the van, spotting our new found friends yet again. Just beyond the Bridge of Ross, we passed the 1,000 mile mark on the van. We were now heading towards Kilkee, further up the coast, following Neil’s arrows. There were the usual scattering of houses, but there were so many in this remote corner. What did people do here? We guessed that some were smallholdings, others morphed into larger farms. There must be a few second homes too. It just seemed so very far away from civilisation. The little village of Cross only offered a small shop, so where did people got for shopping? We had seen no supermarket delivery vans either. We were intrigued.
We did a sharp left as Neil said there was a great, but little known viewpoint along the road and yes, we steadily climbed and as we summited, a 360 degree panorama opened up. With us high up and the land flat, we could see where we had been yesterday – the power station, the River Shannon, County Kerry in the distance, Carrigaholt from this morning, ships out to sea on our left and in front of us, our future adventures. You could just see for miles and miles even in the low cloud. We dropped down and followed the coastal road, with incredible cliffs dropping down into the sea and stacks protruding from the surf, left stranded as the rocks given way and crashed into the sea below.
We dropped into Kilkee, a town hugging a sweeping sandy bay. We found the High Street, looking for a place to have lunch. We pulled into a parking bay, while I went to check out a possible eaterie – they had an outside area so we could bring The Pup – but on my return, hubby was ready to go. Two men were busy jet washing the front of a building opposite and there was a heck of a noise vibrating along the street. Not conducive for a nice lunch. So we abandoned the plan to eat there and went looking for somewhere else, which didn’t happen. We parked the van on the front and decided to pick up some takeaway food in the cafe/deli I’d found and eat it in the van. It was a lovely little cafe called The Pantry and I loitered outside with The Pup when a staff member said “oh you can bring the dog inside”. I sighed deeply. Back home, there are stickers on shops doors saying “Dogs welcome” or similar so you instantly know where you stand. Here, there doesn’t seem to be a such a scheme and working on the fact that its deemed illegal to take your dog into a retail unit, one of us has to stay outside, sometime unnecessarily! We hadn’t seen many dogs on this trip at all.
We left Kilkee behind and continued northwards, the countryside softening a little. Just past Doonbeg , was a Trump Golf Course which we had a quick nose at – as we approached, a helicopter flew in. We took a quick photo and retreated back to the road. We had also seen a few new housing estates – a cluster of new homes, full of charm and character, slipping into the countryside as if they had been there for years. We were really impressed with the effort the builders and architects had made – back in England, it seems to be norm to build massive estates of identical square boxes with no chimneys and totally lacking in any imagination . Makes me despair – it’s an almost sling them up and make a big profit type mentality.
I digress. With the weather closing in, we decided to head to Doolin for the night, peeling off at Lahinch (or Lehinch, depending on what road sign you looked – it wasn’t sure to be either masculine or feminine as someone had gone around gouging out the first vowel for some unknown reason)and picked up the road that took us past the Cliffs of Moher, an UNESCO site and a world famous attraction. We drove past and made the decision to return in the morning – it was nearly 5pm and we were getting tired. The actual cliffs (all 9 miles of them) were set back from the road but the bit in between had been filled with a car park, tarmac paths, a visitor centre and other touristy paraphernalia. It was a bit disheartening that a open natural space had been hijacked in such a way, but apparently the cliffs were well worth it.
So we dropped down into the little village of Doolin and checked into the Doolin campsite for 2 nights. We spent many minutes circling the campsite, in a state of flux of where to set up. The wind had got up and was whistling across the site, so we needed protection. Eventually, we parked next to a fellow VW camper in a little walled field and put the kettle on.
With the plan to return to the Cliffs of Moher in the morning, we discovered there was a free shuttle bus from Doolin to the cliffs. We wanted a day away from the van and so that would be perfect. It was recommended that you booked seats online for the bus as it could get busy, so I excitedly found the website. There was no box for dogs travelling, but after a bit of digging found that only assistance or support dogs were allowed onboard. Well, that scuppered the Van Free Day until I found out that there was also a regular bus service – that could possibly work. I then went onto the Cliffs of Moher website and checked their dog policy – yep, The Pup was very welcome, but I also found I could get cheap entrance tickets. If you turn up unannounced, the entrance fee was 15 euros each. Ouch. However, by booking online there were two pricing options: off peak (9-11am and 4pm – 9pm) was 8 euros each while the busiest time between 11am and 4pm was charged at 12 euros each. This was a no brainer – we would have a quiet morning lurking around Doolin, maybe lunch in a nearby pub, a game of pitch and putt at nearby La/Lehinch in the afternoon and then to the Cliffs for after 4pm. All we needed was better weather!
The mist had descended as the evening wore on and rained a couple of times. We sat in the van with the awning up and the side door open. We raided the fridge for cheese and other nibbles and made a cuppa. About half nine, we decided to walk into the village (all two minutes) and to a recommended pub called McGanns on the corner, for a Guinness. It was drizzling, so we did a bit of a trot only to find that McGanns wasn’t on the corner and a quick recce failed to locate it. We ended up in Fitz’s on the aforementioned corner, but alas The Pup wasn’t allowed in. So as a concession, we sat by the entrance door (otherwise it was the smoker’s covered area outside), supping our pints and listening to a group of guys playing Irish music on guitars and violins in the other room which was fabulous. Meanwhile, The Pup charmed any passing punter (she was good at suckering up to the Americans and Canadians). We braved the weather again and galloped back to the van – it’s amazing how wet you can get in drizzle and got ready for bed. The wind whipped at the awning and after a quick Google, discovered McGanns was a 7 minute walk further up the road……….ah well!
apathtosomewhere 