apathtosomewhere

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!

Woke up to rain on the windscreen.

There was drizzle in the air and the clouds were low as we opened the side door, after a rather leisurely morning – even The Pup squeezed in between us and resumed her snooze, lying on her back with her feet up in the air. We were in no great rush. With the campsite close to the beach, Hubby and The Pup (once they got up) sauntered down to check it out while I tidied the Van and reported back that it was a nice beach, though a little rocky. It seemed to get better the further down you went. They didn’t linger with the rain.

We didn’t leave until gone 11 with a plan to hit a campsite near Loop Head on the County Clare coast. The weather seemed to be lifting (well, it wasn’t raining) so maybe it would brighten up later. We are still sweeping sand out of the van.

We drove towards Tralee. We plugged in the postcode for the campsite into the Satnav which offered an immediate shortcut – cross country straight over to Limerick and cutting out most of the Wild Atlantic Way, so we sacked her straightaway and I was promoted to navigational duties. We had done 906 miles on this trip up to this point. The hills and mountains in the distance were dark blue and purple in colour with the brooding low clouds and the fields were a dark green. I’m running out of superlatives to describe this amazing island and it is still surprising us.

Just before Tralee, is Blennerville, a small community with a big white windmill sitting on the edge of an inlet. There’s a visitor centre which we pulled into briefly, but really wanted to see more of the windmill, so we drove down an adjacent side road and saw it in all its glory. A member of staff was setting up the sails by unfurling some form of material across each one (to catch the wind, we presumed) and they actually started to rotate which was fabulous to see. We sat there for quite a while, just watching, before continuing onwards. We skirted Tralee’s town centre, but the town seemed to have a good vibe. Stopped by traffic lights, the houses on one particular street seemed to have a positive Dutch influence about them with steps leading up to decorative front doors. We followed the R551 road out to Ballyheige, the Satnav (reinstated as back up only) was desperate to turn us around down little country lanes and pick up the quicker route, but I overrode it, following the Wild Atlantic Way signs.

The R551 ran along quite flat countryside, the mountains and hills suddenly gone. We were not far from the coast and a long sandy beach behind tall dunes, with many static home parks in front of them. The weather was closing in – we had just endured a big downpour and now it was steadily drizzling – so we were not eager to go out in it. We couldn’t really admire the countryside either with the wet weather obscuring any long distance views – it just wasn’t very pleasant. We came up to Ballyheige and then tapped in Ballybunnion to stop the satnav slicing off yet another corner off the Wild Atlantic Way. We have noticed with most of the towns, big and small, that they have an inordinate number of pubs (often within close proximity of each other) and independent chemists, the reason we haven’t quite fathomed. Also, there are regular roadside signs declaring a local Lotto with the amount to be won displayed underneath – it’s usually for only a few thousand euros, but still a good win. We’ve also come across numerous roadside shrines, some in quite remote areas, mainly dedicated to the Virgin Mary, all well tended and looked after.

We soon came up to Ballybunion, a seaside resort and a holiday haven with amusement arcades and shops selling buckets and spades. Just not our cup of tea, so we continued in the mist and murk and started to follow the brown Wild Atlantic Way signposts rather than the main R551. The countryside is now more rolling, but not particularly hilly. On researching our route this morning, we had discovered that there was a ferry across the River Shannon at Tarbert, saving us a huge and pointless trip up to Limerick and back – this was one of the reasons why we had been battling our satnav for most of the morning – and after Ballybanion, we punched in Tarbet as our next destination and our satnav finally complied.

The River Shannon came into view on the next bend, a wide expanse of water with several tankers traversing its channels. On our right, it seemed to be wind turbine central with numerous turbines turning in the wind. With the rain coming down hard, a lot of them were obscured in the murk. Across the water in County Clare there was lot of opposition to the turbines with several “No to wind farms” signs dotted along the road, so they seemed to be a bit of a sore point in this part of Ireland.

We carried on along the back roads of the Wild Atlantic Way and finally as we approached Tarbert, the rain gave way to sunshine – we dropped towards the dock, it turned out very pleasant. We turned the final corner before the ferry and was met by huge power station dominating the view, which was a bit of a shock. We had come so accustomed to gentle countryside and rural communities that we had forgotten that brutal industry existed, though weirdly this monstrous building was surrounded green fields. There were no other warehouses or industrial units in sight apart from pylons emanating from a nearby substation.

The Tarbert ferry “terminal” itself consisted of a toilet block and a slipway with a few cars queuing patiently. The ferry appeared after 20 minutes and quickly docked, disgorging vehicles before inviting us on. It was a “roll on, roll off” boat and we ended up right at the front with just the raised ramp to look at. The ferry set off while a staff member came around to take your fare as you sat in your car though you could get out if you didn’t mind being a bit wind swept. It was a crossing of about 20 minutes and to our alarm, the ramp in front of us was lowered before we were anywhere near the slipway on the other side! We slid into dock and we safely disembarked into County Clare.

We made it back onto terra firma to warm broken sunshine, taking an immediate left and a few miles later, we dropped right down to the edge of the river and alongside Ballymacrinan Bay. It was all very pretty. We came up to the town of Kilrush, passing the islands of Hog and Scattery in the bay along the way, bright summery green surrounded by glistening water.

We were getting peckish despite quickly gorging on cake and ginger biscuits while we waited for the ferry at Tarbert. We parked up outside a rather splendid building in Kilrush and spotted the Jellyfish cafe, so we quickly walked The Pup to stretch her legs and let her a wee before checking to see if they were open and if they allowed dogs. With answer to both questions being a yes, we ordered coffees, a sandwich, a jacket potato, and a sausage for The Pup and sat down. The food was fabulous – the jacket potato had aubergines, mint chutney, mustard seed yoghurt and crispy shallots which was a totally different and refreshing option to the usual cheese, baked beans or tuna mayo that’s heaped onto a baked spud. The decor of the cafe was fab too, from the octopus wallpaper in the loo and the jellyfish lights over the counter. Halfway through our meal, we realised the staff were clearing up and it dawned on us that it was Sunday and they shut at 3pm (we had even read the sign on the door) and now it was 3.15pm. We were horrified and apologised profusely, but as the way with the lovely Irish people, they waved it aside and said it was nice to have company. In England, we would of been most likely shooed away as we stepped through the door with a “sorry, we’re closing!” Honestly our brains have completely melted as we have lost track of time and even days which is actually a lovely position to be in.

We wandered up the wide, broad High Street looking for a bank with an ATM and liked this little town on the River Shannon, but it was time to hunt down our night’s accommodation and went off to find the Green Acres Caravan site, somewhere off the beaten track near Doonaha. We found it easily, but couldn’t find the reception area, so resorted to calling a mobile number to track someone down. A happy voice answered and told us “I’ll be down in a minute” and true to his word, he appeared and told us to find a pitch down the far end on the concrete stands. So we did and found three spots – one right next door to an existing caravan, one that had a plastic bottle full of water with “reserved” written on it and the third, on a lofty pitch which we took. We reversed up on it and then realised how windy it was – the campsite overlooked the Shannon River and there was nothing to stop the wind until it reached our van. Fearful of damaging our pop top, we turned the van around around and faced inland, losing our river view. The wind was quite cool too and didn’t really encourage you to sit out in it either so we wandered around the site and on our return, sat inside with the side door open and had a cuppa.

Three large ships were anchored in the middle of the river and over the course of the evening, we watched them swing around as the tide ebbed and flowed. The lovely chap who seemed to be in charge came up to our van, and spent many minutes highlighting all the places to see and visit on a paper tourist map which he then gave to us. Finally he asked if we could pay for the night, made a fuss of The Pup and chatted for a while. So laid back and easy going. We chilled, played ball with The Pup and made another cuppa before deciding it was getting chillier and shut the side door. After tea, we put the bed up and relaxed listening to the wind as it gently rocked the van. The ships out in the estuary twisted around again and rain began to spit against the back window. It could be a rocky night………..

Today we woke ridiculously early. Typical.

The weather was overcast, but warm, the sun trying to come out – towards the coast, the clouds were low and dark. Glad we weren’t doing Skelligs today. Later as we broke camp, it started to rain.

The toilet lights at this place are motion sensored, which I can totally understand to save electricity, but they keep going out after 20 seconds and you have to keep jiggling in the cubicle. Glad I don’t have to visit during the hours of darkness!

So we decided to head to a beach today – Inch Beach to be precise on the Dingle Peninsula. We drove to Killorglin which was very quiet for a Saturday morning, before turning towards Dingle. Again, beautiful scenery – mountains and wide bays. We stopped for coffee at a rather posh looking shop, standing in the middle of nowhere, on the main road. Downstairs was clothing – all tweeds and woollens, scarves and mugs and upstairs a rather large cafe with a sweeping curved window that looked down onto a lovely bay for below. We took a window seat and drank coffee – we were the only customers and I wondered who they catered for. Perhaps they relied on the hordes of tourist coach passengers spending their hard earned cash – it seemed that kind of place.

We also started noticing old abandoned stone buildings – the traditional crofter type houses – scattered here and there, every one roofless but with all the walls and the apexes at each end still standing sturdily with tufts of grass growing out of them. Some stood alone, others next to a new building. It seemed a shame that they hadn’t been maintained, but maybe that was too expensive. Later, we noticed more modern houses that had been abandoned as well. They still had their roofs, but windows were broken and rotten, net curtains grey and shredded. It was as if an elderly person had passed and the house left to rot.

Now we were back into mountain country, after the wide coastal plains around Cahersiveen. They seemed to roll down, turning into fields before hitting the sea. It’s so lush and green, trees and bushes everywhere. I was on the lookout for a postbox as I needed to post some cards, but the green postboxes aren’t easy to spot and they’re usually embedded into a wall. Helped by Google maps, I tracked one down, pleased to see that collection was at 1.30pm, a more civilised time than my home village of 7am and my cards wouldn’t be loitering the box for too long.

We finally arrived at Inch Beach, a 6 km long sliver of flat soft sand and dunes poking out into Dingle Bay. You can park directly on the beach, which we did and let The Pup out for a run and a swim. She was a very happy hound. It was a fabulous panorama of both the Kerry and Dingle peninsulas, with dark brooding clouds hanging over them, the sun peering out in the gaps and lighting up the greens on the hills. You could watch the weather here – you could even see rain showers in the valleys. After a good run and with our eyes on the tide, we headed back for a cuppa and piece of cake in the Van and watched with dismay as the Van slowly filled with sand from The Pup and our shoes! The downside of beaches – sand everywhere. We would be sweeping it out all day. As we drove out, we noted how everyone literally drives on the beach and stops, ending up parking on top of one another – there’s 6km of beach here for goodness sake. Is it the eagerness to get out onto the sand or to be near the toilets and food vendors or just sheer laziness? Weird.

We got back onto the main road to Dingle before taking an abrupt left down a tiny country back lane which took us down to a little cove. There was a little parking area, but it was full. We followed another car, but kept our distance as the driver kept stopping to take photos. We arrived in Dingle, a busy and attractive little town, but it’s main street clogged with cars. We drove through it, contemplating whether to stop, but we had no need to wander aimlessly around shops. But it had a lovely feel and was full of character. We decided to drive around the headland to Dunquin, into a land of mountains, low heavy cloud, cliffs and dry stone walls. It was quite atmospheric. The local landowners with ancient crofter cottages and beehive huts on their land, had spotted a lucrative market opportunity and were encouraging tourists to visit them “only a two minute walk!”. I’m sure they were charging for the privilege. You could see most of them from the road anyway, but good for the farmers trying to make a living from this difficult terrain.

The coastline was breath taking, but everyone else thought so too. There was a lot more traffic and humans. We went down to a parking area overlooking the coast at Coumeenoole Beach and wished we hadn’t – we ended up squeezing past cars in an already full car park, doing a 12,000 point turn and had to wait for less confident drivers. It was a nightmare and we escaped quickly, avoiding other crowded areas elsewhere. We did stop at Dunquin Pier, one of three ferry points for the Blasket Islands and had a walk around – there was a little coffee hut and two ferry ticketing sheds literally tied down with ropes. Gets a touch windy here then? We walked down a steep narrow concreted path with many others, which ended on the dockside far below. It’s here that you can catch a ferry to the Islands as a foot passenger and if you’re prepared to lug a tent over, you can camp there too. As we had no tent, we passed on that opportunity and let The Pup have a quick paddle before we climbed up again. There seemed to be many South Asians and Middle Eastern people here in big groups – whether they were on a big guided tour, we weren’t sure. We didn’t linger here and headed off again and came up to a fabulous view point overlooking a beautiful bay and the wider valley jostling with other people for the photo op. Fed up with this sudden busyness and crowds, we spied from our lofty position, Clogher Beach and headed down. The tiny car park was nearly full, but we got a space and wandered down to this lovely little sandy cove – there were a few people, but we went into a secluded corner and let The Pup in the water, though it dropped away and we were careful that she didn’t get into trouble as swimming was prohibited here. We ended up having lunch here, cobbling together bits that we found in the fridge – cheese, tomatoes, crisps sort of thing and sat in the sun by the Van and chilled.

The afternoon was wearing on. We did a big loop back to Dingle as we wanted to go over the Conner Pass. We drove past fields that veered up to the coastline and ended on the edge of a series of cliffs that just dropped dramatically away down to the sea and then around a corner another fabulous bay.

We both mentioned that we hadn’t seen any electricity pylons or towers marching across the countryside or on top of hills in south west Ireland at all – there just seemed to be miles of wooden telegraph poles, some of them seriously leaning, with heavy duty cable dangling – sometimes quite low – either by the roadside or across the fields delivering power to all these scattered and isolated homes. They just melted into the background and were unobtrusive which it should be.

We entered Dingle again and ended up on a rather modern, trendy sea front, all very smart, but teeming with people. The painted houses were back and there were a few built out of stone which were very attractive – they reminded us of the Lake District. We were tempted to stop, but it was so busy that we continued on and negotiated our way out to Conner Pass, climbing steadily into the mountains whose tops were devoured by cloud. There were various warning signs including one telling cyclists how steep it was and how far to the summit (information as a cyclist myself, I would prefer not to know about, thank you very much). We arrived at the summit parking area and managed to get views and photos both sides despite the lowering cloud. It was quite spectacular. With a caravan site to find for the night, we pulled out of the car park and started to descend. With a stone wall stopping us from plunging down the mountainside on one side and the sheer rock face on the other, the road weaved itself down the side of the mountain, but suddenly went into a bendy single carriageway and as we couldn’t see who was coming up, we stopped. A white car behind us (probably assuming we were taking photos) overtook us and proceeded down the narrowing road, only to be confronted by a long line of cars coming up. Fascinated, we watched him having to reverse all the way back up (nearly into the rock face) and let them through. Such was his impatience, he was off again and ended up squeezing past people which took many minutes. We just clocked the last car we saw before it disappeared from view and then waited for him to come through. Simples and less stressy, though we had a long queue of cars behind us……..

We dropped off the mountain and drove along the coast, turning left off the main road to the Anchor Caravan Park, some 2 miles from Castlegregory and managed to get in. Found a lovely sunny pitch and relaxed for a while before deciding to walk to Castlegregory for tea. It was a pleasant walk along a track and then onto a very straight road to the village that seemed endless. The mountains in the distance were dark and brooding under the cloud, but where the clouds broke and let the sunlight through, made it very beautiful.

Castlegregory is a small town with about five eateries so we had plenty of options. Our first two choices were either full or didn’t allow dogs, we didn’t fancy pizza so the Pizza Shed was discounted, though if we got stuck we would go back there. The local pub was closed for a wedding reception, so we waddled around to Pisces, a nice looking fish restaurant with a tasty menu. Dogs weren’t allowed inside so we sat under the covered outside area (a bit like pariahs – everybody going in and out were all dressed smartly and we were in shorts, hoodies and still a bit sandy – personally I would of put us round the back). The Pup got lots of adulation and fuss from everyone who passed which she accepted gracefully while we ordered mussels, scampi and prawns and halibut. It was really delicious all washed down with a very nice Pinot. Just perfect. As we were finishing, we noticed that the sun had disappeared as well as the mountains behind a sheet of misty rain. Not good. And guess who didn’t have their rain gear? Clutching our half bottle of wine, we retraced our steps, hoping that it wouldn’t catch up with us. We hadn’t gone far when we felt the first drizzly drops – can cope with that – but as we got to the most exposed bit, it got heavier. We stopped looking back too as all we could see was rain. Thankfully, the heavy rain was only a couple of minutes and it finally stopped. We were just a touch damp in the end and glad to get back to the Van. We did our ablutions and shut down for the night, just as the heavens truly opened and lashed it down. Snuggling under the duvet, we thanked our lucky stars – we would have got drowned.

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.

Doesn’t seem like we’ve only been in Ireland for a week. Feels like we’ve been here for ages.

Another nice looking morning – we’ve cracked the weather. The Pup heads down to the little stony beach with Hubby and has an early morning swim (just the pup). We haven’t really organised the day either and reading the bumpf, think we’ve missed the boat trips to Skellig Island, which we were thinking of doing today.

A little further up the road, is Derrynane Beach and historic house – our camping neighbours recommended that we go as the sands are beautiful. So we packed up the van and headed down the snaking single track to park in the large Derrynane House car park. There was a little walk to do – down a grassy lane and then onto a wide grassy area with the beach beyond. The Pup was let off lead and was happily running around, when a large Golden Retriever came barrelling down the slope towards us. Off went the two dogs chasing each other in huge circles and had a whale of a time – The Pup needed to burn off some excess stored energy – until he went off to catch up with his owners. We hadn’t gone far when a collie and his greyhound partner also wanted to play – The Pup was exhausted before she had even reached the beach!

The beach was gorgeous – soft golden sand and blue waves crashing. There was a big sweeping beach with two or three other beaches in their own little coves. The Pup swam in the sea, chasing tennis balls and retrieving them. She was so happy. We tried to get to the other little coves, but couldn’t find a way so we satisfied ourselves with this one. We wandered back along the beach, The Pup chasing seabirds in flight until they flew across the water and meandered back towards the Derrynane House gardens where we found a lovely little shady cafe with toilets. Perfect. We had a coffee and fell into conversation with various people, starting with how beautiful The Pup was. This is pretty normal. We are usually ignored while The Pup soaks up the admiration. Hey ho. Her speciality today was charming all the American visitors who thought she was sooooo adorable.

With it getting warmer, we decided that our destination today would be Cahersiveen and the Mannix Point Camping and Caravanning. We tried ringing but couldn’t get through and an online booking by credit card would be 10 euros admin fee. We would take the risk of just rocking up and hoping they had space. So we hit the road and came across one of several viewpoints between Derrynane and Waterville. We instinctively pulled in beside a lone motorbiker having a smoke while taking in the vista and chatted. As we did so, all of a sudden, several cars pulled in too and the little lay-by was awash with camera wielding people and badly parked cars. Wow, we had started a trend. The view, by the way, was jaw droppingly beautiful with farmland rolling towards the Atlantic Ocean.

We drove onto Waterville, a pretty settlement stretching along the main road. It had several statues and monuments to Charlie Chaplin – didn’t think he had any Irish connection, but a quick Google revealed that he actually came here regularly for holidays and the town celebrated that. Fabulous. We didn’t stop – only briefly to post a birthday card – as it was a tourist hotspot with coaches in the car parks and people posing next to Charlie’s monuments, though it overlooked Ballinskelligs Bay which was beautiful.

We had noticed since we had arrived, that there weren’t many really old stone buildings or houses around, the old crofter’s places. It was all modern rendered bungalows or houses, surrounded by a paved forecourt and a large lawn, sat in a large plot of land. They reminded us of middle class American suburbia housing. The 1800’s famine and clearances saw Ireland’s population plummet and has never really recovered (the Beare Peninsula had 39,000 at one point and now has a full time population of just over 6,000 – a lot of residences seem to be holiday homes or second homes). Some of the roads had the feel of southern Europe – you half expected to see olive and orange groves in the fields. Also, the brightly coloured villages have disappeared too – maybe they’re a County Cork thing.

Hubby had found there was a chocolate factory en route, though we seemed to take a rather convoluted route down country lanes to reach it. The Skellig Chocolate Factory over looked St Finians Bay and was reasonably new. Inside, behind glass, you could watch the chocolate being produced on the factory floor, all gleaming pipework and stainless steel. There was a shop and a cafe too and we spent a small fortune after we had a taste of each of the different types of chocolate. Somehow we fell into conversation with the staff about ceilidhs and ended up with a couple of musical downloads on the phone, like you do. One of the staff was really into her music and could of talked all day…….

Just down the road was a lovely little golden beach with a little food hut opposite. We stopped here for lunch – basically to eat the rest of last night’s pizza. Hubby went off to get a cold drink from the hut and came back with the most delicious chips ever. We sat overlooking the sea, before taking The Pup to her third beach of the day and chucked the ball into the surf. Again, there were warnings of dangerous tides and rip currents.

We could see the Skellig Islands way out at sea. It was a shame to miss out on them as apparently they were the location in the last Star Wars film where Rey tracks down the reclusive Luke Skywalker on his isolated island. Apparently you can land on the island and wander around the 6th century monastery. It is primarily a bird sanctuary, home to kittiwakes and gannets amongst others. We then wondered how location scouts ever find these places and manage to get a film crew on them!

We drove to the little village of Portmagee, where the Skellig boat trips start and parked up for a wander. We went to the Skellig Michael boat tour kiosk for a nosey and found, to our delight, that they had several tours during the day – maybe we would get our boat trip after all. So after a quick deliberation, we booked for the following days 10am trip – this tour doesn’t land on the islands and anyway dogs aren’t allowed on them anyway because of the birds. Knowing we would be back tomorrow, we decided to have a good look at Portmagee after our boat trip and have lunch there too. So we jumped straight back into the van and headed off.

We set off towards Mannix Point Camping, hoping they would have space – it was a bit of an anxious time, but we got in okay and booked two nights here. A later wander around the site revealed plenty of empty pitches, so we needn’t of worried. We set up, putting up the awning, as it was now really hot – 26 degrees according to the van and no shade. Well, we had to abort briefly as we realised we had failed to stop at a shop for milk and other supplies so we popped up the road to a SuperValu and stocked up. Our pitch was right on the edge of the water and overlooked the mountains of Carrigower in the distance which was fantastic. The Pup made friends with the German collie next door and we settled down. I went for a shower and was rather impressed to find modern and relatively new showers, toilets and basins. The outside was a little bit of a hotch potch, but on closer inspection it was all freshly painted and surrounded by flowers. Further investigation found a large sitting room for campers and a covered outside area with sofas and dining tables. Across the way was a pizza oven, garden table and chairs and a bow top room for reading and chilling. It was all very nice.

We chilled under the awning, The Pup on her charging mat, had a picky tea and then sat and watched the sun go down. Rowing boats with the coxes shouting at their crews of twelve rowed up and down, disappearing into the distance, but the noise of their oars carried over the silent waters, a ready beat thumping in the evening air.

The sun disappeared behind a nearby hill, the temperature started to drop quickly and various insects began to come out to play – our cue to close windows and doors on the van and head inside. A fair amount of flying bugs hung around our mesh window in the roof space and not wanting to share the van nor our exposed flesh to them, quickly showed them the door. There was hardly a cloud in the sky and a pinkish hue overtook the blue of the day – a good day beckoned as they say “red sky at night, shepherds delight”. We had our boat trip tomorrow – perfect! What more could we ask for!

What a glorious morning!

The sun was up with warm rays and we basked in a little sunny corner, eating our breakfast, again in no particular rush. The view from our little grassy plateau was still amazing, but with the morning sun, had a whole new host of colours. This was the best campsite so far.

Hubby showered first and complained that the water clicked off as he was half lathered and had turned cold. I’m a steaming hot shower person and winced. But I waddled down to the shabby chic bathroom prepared. You basically had to be shower ready before you put your euro in the slot, which I did and dived in. Hubby had borrowed my shampoo and conditioner and hadn’t returned them, so I washed hair and body with hand wash super quick and then spent many minutes waiting for the click and a spurt of cold. In fact, I got bored and switched the tap off early. I had a lovely steaming hot shower though and even had a little area to dry and hang things. It was all very satisfying.

So we packed up and said goodbye to this little gem. We headed up the Healy Pass between Lauragh and Adrigole as it has excellent viewpoints over both sides. We were amazed just going up! We stopped on the other side which wasn’t as breath taking, but the road winding its way up was interesting. We turned around and headed back to Lauragh as we were heading to Kenmare and the Ring of Kerry beyond. This was an amazing panorama as the mountains gave way to woodland and the little inlets of water as we dropped down past Crevee Lodge campsite again – there were a few cyclists starting to go up the Pass and we wished them luck.

After a couple of false starts, we picked up the R573 coastal road and followed that to Kenmare – as usual, the scenery constantly changed. We dropped into Kenmare and liked it instantly. Purple street flags hung across the High Street, cafes had tables and chairs on the side of the road, in between parked vehicles and it was buzzing. We followed the free car park sign and realised there was a height barrier to the car park. This didn’t deter Hubby – I leapt out and watched as the Van limbo-ed its way under the barrier, there were just inches. Even the motorist behind helped by shouting “you’re good!” Just love the Irish – they are so friendly and helpful.

We parked up, wondering how we would ever get out again and sauntered back to the High Street. There was a little street market that we looked at and then continued to the High Street. There was a definite vibe. We wandered both sides of the road, bought some postcards and cards for impending birthdays, before settling at one of the roadside tables for a coffee and cake. I noticed a FatFace shop, thinking “typical, they get everywhere” and then realising that was probably the first British national chain I had seen since we arrived. All the chemists seemed to be independent (no Boots), no WHSmiths, no Mountain Warehouses et al. Maybe there were Irish national chains, but to us, it was a pleasure to see different shops in different towns unlike England where every High Street seems to replicate every other High Street and it’s tedious.

Happy, we wandered back to the Van and tried to exit out of the exit, but the barrier had a huge dent in it and threaten to scrape our roof, so we drove down to the entrance, slithered under the barrier carefully and with a lot of mouthed apologies and profuse thanking to confused motorists, we hit the gas and went to find the Ring of Kerry.

The day was becoming a corker – very warm and sunny. We followed the Wild Atlantic Coast route, admiring the scenery until we got to the little town of Sneem. Our plan to have a wander was thwarted by the place teeming with tourists and several large coaches parked on the main road. Far too busy for our liking. The Ring of Kerry is hugely popular and with Irish schools breaking up for summer at the end of the week and the forecast for a mini heatwave, it was only going to get busier. So we carried on. We had started to spot these brown signs pointing down small single track lanes with the word “Pier”. Unable to resist, we turned left down one marked “Gleesk Pier” and followed it. As usual, there were little plots with bungalows and houses dotted around, a myriad of lanes and tracks heading off from our lane and grass growing down the middle. At one hairy moment, we met a tanker – either the oil delivery man or the sceptic tank man – on a small bend, but serendipity bestowed a convenient drive for us to swerve into and we passed each other without further incident. Phew.

Gleesk Pier was some 3km from the main road, overlooked by a scattering of houses and came to a dead end. It was a small harbour with a slipway and a little grassy area to park. There were four cars there already. Hubby and The Pup went to investigate the area while I made sandwiches and put the kettle on for lunch. Three kids on their bikes, two collie dogs and a Jack Russell turned up out of nowhere and went swimming in the shallows which was lovely to see – kids playing outside! Further searching found a couple of derelict crofter houses, barely standing in between the rocks. The Pup made friends with the other dogs while we had lunch. What a lovely little place – tranquil and hidden. Just perfect. We packed up and retraced our steps, laughing at roadwork signs along this hardly used road in the middle of nowhere. It just seemed pointless.

Back on the main road, with hurtling tourist coaches (there were five in a convoy!!) we were soon coming up to Caherdaniel, another small town, but just before there were two campsites to check out. The first one, O’Carroll’s Cove was right on the beach with a bar which was nice and the other, Wave Crest had a shop and overlooked the bay. We plumped for this second one and just about got in. Only a few spaces left. The campsite was on a hill with little grassy knolls at different heights where you could park your camper, motorhome or put up your tent so we were all at different levels. Our pitch was a little way down and overlooked the sea and rocky headland. We had a wander – a modern ablutions block all smart and clean, a very well stocked shop and a pizza shed on site. We found the little stony beach and The Pup had a swim (later, hubby went swimming, but as I didn’t go, I can’t attest to that).

Across the bay, gannets were diving into the sea, catching fish – fascinating to watch the speed they hit the surface. The sun was still warm and we basked in the heat. The weather is due to get even better – we’ve been so lucky! I went and did some laundry – we packed just a week’s worth of clothes for our three week road trip to save space (even then it’s half the wardrobe as you need to pack for every contingency – heatwave, rain, cold, wind) so with our laundry bag bulging, I went to tackle the industrial washing machines and driers. It worked – I tossed the whole lot in, whites and darks and hoped the colours didn’t run or nothing shrank. I hadn’t dealt with this kind of washing since I lived briefly in a flat many years ago. Got most of it dried, though the Van still looked liked Widow Twankey’s with a few items that felt just a bit damp.

Hubby went to the Pizza Shed and got pizza for tea which we ate on our little grassy knoll. We had another wander around, noseying at all the different campers and motorhomes. We’re starting to see a lot more English number plates too on this headland. With the evening cooling and little gnats starting to bother us, we sat in the van looking out. Maybe we might see some stars tonight – Kerry is a designated Dark Skies Area and has hardly any light pollution. That’s if we stay awake long enough……..

It rained overnight and was still drizzling when we woke up, so we didn’t exactly rush to get up.

It was 10.30 before we left the campsite, heading west. Low cloud hung over the surrounding mountains and it was quite overcast, but warm. We were heading for Dunboy Castle just beyond Castletownbere on the south coast of the Beare Peninsula – there was a 4km walk and a secluded beach to be had.

We stopped briefly at Castletownmere to see if it was worth a wander round – it was a pleasant little town, but there wasn’t much parking space and to be honest, I’m not really a browser or dedicated shopper. We decided to head to our destination. We keep passing these fabulous cemeteries with the most magnificent headstones – they’re usually perched high above the road and the headstones cascade down a hillside (sometimes the most improbable angles) so they are really prominent. We’ve see them in the centre of towns, just outside villages and in the middle of nowhere. The headstones are so ornate.

The guide book told us to take a left off the main road at Dunboy Castle (the signs can be right on top of the junction, so you can end up veering off suddenly and at the very last minute) and then take the right fork. There was an immediate fork as we left the main road, so we went right as instructed and then a little further on, another fork appeared. Had we forked right prematurely? There were no road signs and little side tracks everywhere. There was some 4G lurking so we used our phone’s navigation to ascertain where we were and yes, at this point, we were going in the wrong direction, so we turned around and headed down another lane. There were little off shoots off this lane too. The guide book got lobbed onto the back seat at this point and by sheer chance, we came across a large wooden sign, declaring a sort of Forestry Commission style walking area. We drove down a single track and found a small gravel parking area. It hadn’t been signposted or anything. So we parked up and followed a path in a woodland, met a couple walking their dog who kindly pointed the way and within minutes, we found a small secluded pebbly beach overlooking Beare Island. This was perfect.

The Pup was in her element, chasing the ball into the water and then finding oversized sticks on the beach. Hubby braved the waters, donning his swimming trunks and spent many minutes inching his way to waist depth, where he then stayed, not going an inch deeper. It was quite cold apparently. I just stayed dry, throwing The Pup’s ball in his vicinity so he got splashed by both ball and pup. We must of spent a good half hour on the beach and then decided on a walk, following the path up and round back to the van. The views were beautiful, looking back towards Bantry with the rugged coastline, craggy mountains and the wide bay.

We heard children’s voices and came across a large group of children with their teachers in a grassy clearing. The Pup briefly lost her freedom as we put her on her lead whilst we passed them and later spotted a sign saying they were from Castletownbere Primary and please put your dog on leads. It was almost like a Forest School outing. What a great place to learn with such a beautiful backdrop.

We returned to the car – there was some waymarking, but it wasn’t abundant, so we kind of relied on our noses and the phone. We decided to head to another beach and possible lunch spot, this time a sandy one at Ballydonegan and enjoyed a scenic drive. The landscape was made up of craggy rocks and boulders rising up into tall hills and mountains and the road rose and fell with them. Every time we thought we had seen the best view of the trip, we would turn a corner and gasp again. It was just outstanding. We climbed steadily up and as we summited the view down to Ballydonegan just opened up – the sea, the flat valley and the rising mountains, houses dotted everywhere, in between fields and stone walls. It took your breath away. It was stunning. We drove down towards the sandy beach and parked up. Nearby was a coffee barista bar operating out of a trailer, so we got coffee and cake before we took The Pup on her second beach of the day. The sand was quite coarse, but very clean. The beach was on a steepish incline (it’s part man made) so the waves broke quite deeply. There were signs at the entrance warning visitors of the current and the tide. The Pup got caught out by one wave and it was easy to see how you could get into trouble quite quickly. Again, we spent about half hour here – we had the whole beach to ourselves despite it being surrounded by a car park and buildings. Next to the beach there was a field with caravans in and we wondered if it was a campsite – wouldn’t that be a fantastic stop, but on closer inspection, it didn’t look very active and there were a lot of long term caravans sat there. It wasn’t ticking a box. However, we saw yet another sauna pod. We keep seeing these too next door to beaches – have a hot sauna and then plunge into the cold sea! It’s very tempting to book. Instead we headed into the nearby village of Allihies, again its buildings painted in various colours and had planned to stop for lunch, but the cake had proved sufficient for the time being.

We followed the road out with the sea and rugged coastline on one side and the mountains rising on the other. The odd house was perched on some rocky plateau, with majestic views all around. The road twisted severely – there was even a hairpin thrown in – and we hadn’t gone far when we came up to a queue of cars and a large gravel lorry. The road itself was freshly resurfaced by the “Sod You School of Tarmacking” – throw a load of chippings onto hot tar and let the motorists embed it in for you over the next few weeks, flicking loose stone as they do so. We must of sat there for about 10 minutes, unable to see anything due to the bendy road, but the odd vehicle came through from the opposite direction – had there been an accident? Suddenly there was movement and everybody drove round a little van with a green GO sign at the back – there was about 8 of us plus a little group of motorbikers – and we drove for about 2 kms before we came up to another queue of vehicles on the other side, waiting for us to pass through as well as tarmacking lorries and rollers scattered around. They were resurfacing the road after all! Why they had such a long distance between the two “traffic lights”, nobody knew, but we had a good laugh about it. We pulled over to let everyone pass us and we could trundle on at our own pace.

The scenery was still spectacular as we continued on the northern coastline. We needed some more groceries and decided to peel off to the village of Eyeries and the village shop. This place was particularly pretty – almost every single house and building was painted a different colour and shade and that included the modern ones too. It was so sweet and enduring. I just loved it. And the village shop had a little petrol pump outside too so I got my photo. We got our bits and took the opportunity to drive through the village before turning round – even the public toilets were an elegant shade of yellow. These little villages were gorgeous.

We were heading towards Lauragh as there was a little campsite called Crevee Lodge on the Healy Pass road. We passed little inlets and bays, through bright tunnels of trees and woodlands. This was wonderful. We pulled up into Crevee Lodge and drove up a hill, pass little meadows with tents and campervans here and there. We checked in once we had tracked down the owner and he told us where to park. We went further up and stopped on a little plateau of grass, with far reaching views of the mountains and bay. It didn’t get much better than this! We messed around slightly with the van, trying to position it at the right angle, but it didn’t help that the campsite’s resident hounds came to greet us and circled the van as we tried to manoeuvre it. Trying to shoo three dogs (one even laid down and wouldn’t move) while directing hubby was a bit of a challenge, but we got there. We let The Pup out and the dogs all introduced each other, before The Pup decided to do zoomies and expected the other hounds to join in. They just stood and watched unimpressed. After a while, they just sauntered off – they had done their job of settling us in and they were off to find someone else.

We spent a little time nesting – popping tops of the van, putting kettle on, setting up chairs before sitting down and drinking in the view. The sun was now out and the temperature had risen – there was less cloud and even that was being burned off. The campsite was quirky – the washroom dated, but had charm. Four little toilet cubicles, and an ancient shower – all very basic, but if it did its job, that was fine. Outside under shelter was two washing up areas and a campers sitting room. We had been noticing these rooms in all the places we had stayed since arriving in Ireland – a sink, dining table and chairs, sofa, bookshelves, little cookers for the more hardy types who preferred canvas to a campervan. They were all well worn, quirky and very cosy. A fabulous idea especially when it’s raining. I have spent a whole day in a tiny two man tent in the rain before now and it was horrible. You can’t sit up properly and you can’t make a cuppa without the risk of burning your tent down – I think I went to a nearby pub in the end and spent the afternoon there with a good book and pint in hand to while away the hours until the rain stopped. These rooms would have been perfect.

Hubby made a salad and one of the dogs returned to see The Pup. She did more zoomies, then there was a lot of sniffing going on. They then wandered off together towards the campers next door, so we called them back and tried to shoo the dog away. We wanted to relax, not keep to watch on hounds – finally Pup crashed on the grass in front of us and snoozed while we sat in our chairs and watched the sun go down. As soon as the sun disappeared behind the distant Kerry mountains, the temperature dropped and it felt damp. We retreated into the van, keen to avoid any nibbling insects. At 11.30, it was still light enough to see the silhouettes of the surrounding countryside. This was definitely the best campsite for location and view so far! Can it get any better?

Another fine looking morning.

We woke up slowly and started our routine of breakfast, tidy the van and prepare to pack up. This morning we enjoyed hot showers in one of the two shower rooms – private bathrooms with loo, washbasin and shower, all to yourself. My kind of camping. I dislike having to shower in a cubicle, get dried without dropping your clothes on the wet floor, then come out and pad across to the communal washbasins for further ablutions and find space for your belongings and then nipping to the loo across the room. There’s always another woman in there too, feeling exactly the same way. The other week, the bathrooms at another campsite were unisex which in my world, is quite unsettling!! So imagine my delight of locking the door to my own personal space. Perfect.

Once organised, we waddled down with The Pup to meet a 17 week old Bernese Mountain pup who lived with the owner of the campsite. He was huge, bigger than our Labrador with paws to match!! But he was totally adorable. We had a good chat while sipping coffees in the reception, before saying goodbye and setting off for the day.

Last night, we had gone for a wander hoping to find a viewpoint. We came to a fork in the road and took the lane that went up as one would think the higher you go, better the viewpoint. Alas, after a couple of hundred yards, we realised that we would have to walk a fair way before we were successful, so turned around and walked back to the site. This morning, we took the other fork to drop down to the main road and within yards, the hedges parted and we got the most wonderful vista across the bay – isn’t that just typical? We cursed to ourselves, admired the view briefly and continued down the lane. We dropped onto the coastal road heading towards the head of the Peninsula called Sheep’s Head. The hedgerows round here are full of foxgloves, honeysuckle and fuchsias, all in full flower. Really pretty. We came across the little village of Kilcrohane, with a tiny little school and a traditional village shop with a little petrol pump, yards from the front door. I wanted a picture of the shop with the pump, but decided I would take it when we came back this way.

It was another beautiful day of broken cloud and sunshine, though the wind was cool and keen. The scenery was rugged with rock and grassland, with fantastic views. The area was riddled with waymarked pathways if you wanted to investigate on foot – it had a sense of remote wilderness, but dwellings were not too far away. It was fabulous.

We arrived at Sheep’s Head car park, with a toilet block and Bernie’s cafe which was shut tight. A sign told us that dogs, even on leads, weren’t allowed beyond this point which was the path to the lighthouse some 2km away. The Pup and I stayed in the Van while hubby went to look for the lighthouse – we opened the side door and sunned ourselves and watched people come and go. Some people were dressed as if they were about to go on a polar expedition!

Hubby soon came back – he hadn’t seen the lighthouse as it was at the bottom of the rocks and he didn’t fancy going all that way downhill. We headed back, stopping at The White House, an unassuming building which was a little quirky cafe. We ordered toasties and a coffee and sat in the sun, down by the side of the cafe, surrounded by pots of flowers and shrubs – it was all a little shabby chic which was very cute, and was joined briefly by Shadow, their shaggy black dog. We carried on back to Kilcrohane to get my photo of the shop and petrol pump, but to my dismay, there were cars parked in front of it. We did wait, but nobody came out so we left without taking a photo – hopefully there would be others.

We drove through the country lanes, stopping at viewpoints, pointing out beautiful houses with floor to ceiling windows – this was Grand Design country – and drinking in the stunning scenery. There were some fantastic hills with long ridgelines that looked fun to walk if we had the time and inclination. The panoramas were so huge, that any pictures we took, just didn’t show the full beauty and the vastness of it all. We finally dropped into Bantry and parked up for a wander. It was a pleasant town, but the High Street didn’t float our boat – maybe it was a Monday and a lot of the shops were shut. It’s a large town sitting at the edge of the bay with a prominent harbour and was once a port in its own right. There were a few fishing vessels, but not much more. We spotted a SuperValu supermarket, the name and the frontage not really inspiring us, but hubby came out after a quick shop and declared that it was rather quite good with an organic section and a good selection of produce.

It was now about 2.30pm and we decided to call it a day and find a campsite for the night. Before we started this trip, we agreed that we would take it one day at a time: plan each day, but not necessarily stick to the agenda and not religiously follow the Wild Atlantic Way, but basically be very chilled and relaxed, a bit laissez faire. No need to put ourselves under pressure. So we looked up two places, chose one and rocked up at the Hungry Hill campsite in Adrigole on the Beare Peninsula, asking if they had space – which they did. It was a nice looking site, just across the way from the bay. We set up base on a grassy area between two trees and plopped down in our chairs and didn’t do much else apart from fall into conversation with other campers and watch people arrive. The sun disappeared behind cloud and didn’t really make any more effort to reappear, so it got a bit cool and threatened to rain, which never happened. So we sat inside the Van and did some homework for a route tomorrow, had tea and a bottle of wine. A perfect way to end another lovely day in Ireland.

I lost the duvet last night.

Not literally, but The Pup beat me into bed and hogged most of it. She’s like several sacks of potatoes when she’s asleep – a dead weight and equally unyielding. She ended up on her back, feet up in the air and dead to the world. I used our “emergency” blanket for such situations and wrapped myself in that – it worked and I enjoyed a good night’s sleep.

We awoke to broken sunshine (whoop whoop no rain!!!) and by 10am it was 18 degrees. The little campsite was very quirky, with nice little touches and we decided that we liked it quite a lot. We were at the start of the Wild Atlantic Way and figured out some places we wanted to check out. First was Red Strand Beach for The Pup as she had so earned a sandy beach. So we drove to the bay passing through Clonakilty, a sizeable town and down some side roads. A wide sandy beach appeared and we eagerly parked up and released the hound. There was a little bow top shed and on closer inspection, we discovered it was a sauna and full of people. They suddenly came pouring out and headed to the sea for a quick dip. I suppose it’s like these Turkish Baths with hot rooms and ice cold plunge pools, but sort of al fresco. There was one of these saunas at the Mullingar site too. The Pup followed the humans into the sea, chasing balls and birds, digging in the sand and letting off two days of steam – she was so happy and we spent a good half hour there. We also found out that you could stay there overnight in your campervan free of charge – we might be tempted to do that later on in this trip.

We jumped in the Van and continued our journey – on impulse and fancying a coffee, we pulled off at Rosscarbery, just off the N71. A pretty little town with brightly covered buildings – it reminded me of Tobermory on Mull – with bright yellows, pinks, purples and greens. It was very attractive and one of a few towns en route decorated in this way. We found The Coffee Drip, a small but busy little cafe on the corner for coffee, a piece of cake and a window seat to do a bit of people watching.

Suitably refreshed, we headed back to the Van and to a place called Toehead, at the end of one of the headlands. On calm days, you might get to see dolphins and whales which attracted us. We drove down narrow country lanes, hoping not to meet a tractor or some other huge vehicle – the lanes had grass growing down the middle and others almost had a meadow going on. They also twisted round on themselves. It was very exciting. Finally the sea came into view and we squeezed into a small clearing to park, grabbed the binoculars and scanned the sea. Small fishing vessels and a buoy bobbed in the waters, but no pods of dolphins. The Pup had a run in the long grass and we admired the view. But somehow, we felt we weren’t in the right place. We decided to carry on and followed the road which opened up to a magnificent panorama of the adjacent bay, with little bungalows and dwellings dotted across the landscape, gentle hills, fields and the sea. It was beautiful. It was stunning. We dropped down and as we did so, we spotted a couple of cars coming down a hill to our right. Mmmm. We let them pass and then drove up the same hill and lo and behold, there was a sign saying Toe Head and more spectacular views! There was an old crumbling tower which was a Signalling Tower and looking along the coast, you could spot other similar towers. The Toe Head one was fenced off so we couldn’t investigate further so we just sat down on the grass and soaked up the views.

https://www.castles.nl/toe-head-signal

We headed back to the main road. The Wild Atlantic Way dives down these country lanes on each little headland, so you could spend a lot of time not getting anywhere. Sometimes the SatNav took you off the designated route, but we didn’t care. We were following our noses and if we wanted to check something out we did.

We drove through the town of Schull, hoping to see the Gourmet Street Market, but it only ran between 10am and 2pm and now it was gone 2.30pm. With it being a Sunday, all the shops were closed so we carried onto our next point of interest which was Crookhaven, down the most southerly tip of Ireland. Again, a series of single track country lanes and around a sweeping bay to a pub called O’Sullivan’s, where you can have the most southerly pint of Guinness, which we obliged. They also did food and we ordered a seafood chowder, which was delicious. We fell into conversation with a lovely local family and their little cockapoo, Dougal. The Irish are so friendly and easy to chat with. We spent quite a bit of time, talking about our dogs mainly before saying goodbye and heading to Mizen Head, a few kilometres further down. Again, the views were stunning, but the phone camera didn’t do it justice. There were fantastic sweeping bays with arcs of golden sand and clear seawater, surrounded by green, lush fields and hills. You wanted to stop and take it in, but the lanes were busy with cars and we would of caused chaos.

https://mizenhead.ie/

We arrived at Mizen Head and a large car park, at the head of which was a modern, seemingly brand new visitor centre. We waddled in and realised it was 4.45pm and they were closing. You had to go through the centre to see the rest of Mizen Head and to cross the Mizen Bridge which was a bit disappointing. We loitered around for about 10 minutes to read information boards and then jumped back into the Van. We needed to find some accommodation for tonight. There seems a lack of roadside notices pointing to small local campsites – so we relied on a book listing campsites or we just Googled them. One we found, didn’t allow dogs so that got crossed off, but the Goat Path Pods and camping near Glanlough sounded promising, though a touch expensive at 45 euros. I gave him a call and they had space so we plumbed the postcode into SatNag and within 45 minutes we had arrived. It was very pleasant – clean, tidy and very neat with at least 6 wooden pods sat on a small hill, one resembling a Hobbit house. They were very cute. We were shown a nice little sun drenched corner and we soon made ourselves at home with a Dutch VW camper in the opposite corner. After tea, we had a wander and peered into the pods with little picnic tables and wooden loungers – they were very sweet. Then we checked out the facilities, had a frantic game of table tennis on a purpose built concrete table and went for a walk to admire the mountains and Bantry Bay until the flies and bugs got too much. Back at base, a family of Canadians poured out of car and a couple in a car arrived. It suddenly seemed quite busy after the relative quiet we had enjoyed, but everyone soon settled down and only the local birds could be heard. It was a lovely warm evening with hardly a cloud in the sky. Tomorrow we had plans to visit Sheep’s Head further down the headland, a bit of shopping in Bantry and then whatever after that. The weather is steadily improving and it’s looking good.

It’s rained again. Awoke to rain drops streaming down the Van window and the sky overcast.

Enjoyed a lovely hot shower in slightly antiquated surroundings, but it did its job and I was happy. The well oiled team that we are, we soon had The Van ready for the road and headed to Kinsale, some 130 miles and 3 hours to the south.

We gave the SatNag instructions to avoid any tolls (yes, all 4.60 euros) but not necessarily all motorways so we had a mixture of A roads, motorways, single track country lanes and everything in between. We passed through towns and villages (which seemed to be clogged with traffic), spotted distant mountains and enjoyed lovely countryside, albeit a bit flat. We loved the names appearing on road signs – Twomileborris, Horse and Jockey (yes, really) and Watermillgrass. Hubby said they reminded him of what3words codes. In some distant rural back road, the SatNag had a breakdown and lost our route and refused to bring back the original. We seemed to be stuck in deepest Ireland and a feeling of going nowhere, but suddenly we were back on the motorway and zooming down towards Cork. The weather is spectacular today – sunshine, big black brooding clouds, sudden downpours lasting minutes and back to sunshine. Big skies. Stunning.

We managed to get confused on a relatively new motorway layout on the outskirts of Cork and went back and forth twice before we got into the right lane and the right road. We sailed through suburbia on a major N road and headed to Kinsale. Soon we were parking and walking into town, finally stretching our legs and The Pup’s. What a beautiful little town, full of independent shops and brightly coloured buildings. We had a good wander around, getting bits and pieces and investigating little side streets. We waddled down to the port area and found a lovely little cafe with chairs outside – it overlooked the harbour, full of boats and yachts and the houses on the opposite bank. It reminded me of the Dartmouth in Devon. I was liking this place. Another rain sodden cloud released its contents on Kinsale and delayed our walk back – the rain bounced in the road. Once it finished, we walked back into town and had another look around the streets. The sun comes out and the temperature rises – its very humid and sticky.

We find the Van and jump back in – time to find a place to sleep. Our first choice that we found on the internet, didn’t float our boat and we carried on through beautiful hilly countryside to Timoleague (another fabulous place name) and just beyond, the Sexton’s Caravan and camping site. Perfect. Lovely views and plenty of personal space. The sun is now out permanently or for the rest of the evening at least and we chill. Hubby catches the bus to nearby Clonakilty for a music festival and a well earned Guinness. I stay with The Pup and relax and write this blog. Tomorrow we have places to find and check out – but top of the list, is a fantastically sandy wide beach for our Pup to discharge her excess energy. Boy, she so deserves it, she’s been a star on this trip.