Ireland!

A few months ago Donna and I decided to arrange the vacation of a lifetime – a trip to Ireland with our kids and their significant others.

Ten years ago our daughter Eileen had spent a semester of her junior year of college in Cork, and Donna and I had gone to visit her. We had started our Ireland experience back then with a couple days in Dublin and then had headed south to Cork and then up the western coast to Dingle. It was a magnificent trip for us, for several reasons.

First, we got to visit Eileen. While she loved her time in Ireland, I think she missed us almost as we missed her.

In addition, Donna’s heritage was Irish – the grandparents of her mother, Joan O’Keeffe Harding, and her father, Lou Harding, had immigrated to the U.S. from Ireland in the 1800s – and we were excited to see the land and people from whence she came (I think I have a little Irish pedigree, but more Scottish, Swiss and German).

It was the land, and especially the people, that had captivated us a decade ago. The green rolling hills dotted with white puffs of sheep, the stark bluffs and cliffs along the pounding gray North Atlantic Ocean, and the colorful tiny villages connected by narrow, winding two-lane roads all are largely untouched by development, and, seemingly, by time.

But mostly, the people won our hearts. So many of the Irish are kind and warm. The people we met seemed genuinely happy to talk with us, make us feel welcome, and share their pride in being Irish. Many have relatives in the U.S., and are keenly interested in our goings-on.

For all these reasons, we were anxious to return with our kids, who had all been to Ireland before, and their significant others.

After a short flight from Baltimore to Philadelphia and a long transatlantic red-eye flight, Kate and Steve, Eileen and Andrew and their five-month-old daughter Corinne, and Donna and I landed at Shannon airport Saturday morning. We rented cars and began the overland leg of our journey. We drove, on the left side of the narrow lanes, through Bunratty and Limerick, stopping at Adare to stretch our legs and find something to eat. We saw a church and cylindrical stone pigeon coop from the 14th century, strolled through the public gardens, and had lunch and our first pints on Irish soil, at Pat Collins'.

We then drove on, enjoying the Irish countryside and past the occasional castle ruins, villages and the tiny Kerry airport, then stopped for a coffee to clear the cobwebs. It was a good thing: Right after we started up again we encountered treacherously narrow roads with deep gullies and thick hedgerows on either side, barely enough room for two cars to pass at very low speed and impossible not to put light scratches on the sides of the rental cars (the local market in the village where we would be staying wisely sold Turtle Wax; we procured a bottle.)

We drove through Killorglin, which was decorated and preparing for the annual three-day Puck Fair, where they hold parades, have rides, equestrian competitions, drink and crown the Puck King, a goat.

Finally we arrived at our destination, the beautiful Glenbeigh, and stopped at the local market, Sheahan's, for provisions. We had time before check-in at 4:00 pm, so we dropped in for a pint at Ashes, Peader O'Suillaebhain, proprietor.

At half past four we drove up the road to our house for the week, Castle View. The house, which Donna had found after many hours of research, is on an unnamed lane that is part of the Kerry Trail, a 200 kilometer path that follows the Ring of Kerry. It is spectacular, even more so than the pictures on the Internet depicted. The many large, bright rooms, upstairs and downstairs, are beautifully appointed. Castle ruins in the back are patrolled by two quarter horses who, we learned, like apples and carrots. The views are magnificent -- to the left, a sun-drenched valley; directly behind the yard a green mountain, the top third cleared and bisected by a fence; to the right a grand view of Ross Beigh, billed as the most beautiful beach in Europe (that seems like a stretch, but it is very attractive). Behind everything is a ring of mountains. Indeed, we were on the Ring of Kerry.

We threw the groceries in the fridge and then collapsed into bed after a trek that had started 26 hours earlier on a different continent. An hour or so later we awoke, broke open the Jameson, and before eight o'clock Jack and Erin arrived from Los Angeles via Dublin. We cooked an easy dinner. The sun doesn't set until 9:30, which was about the time we were ready for a serious sleep.

Over the next week we would visit magnificent sites along the Ring of Kerry: Ross Beigh Beach, charming villages, castles, pubs, and fields and mountains dotted with sheep.

Below are Ten Fun Facts (as I see them) about Ireland, followed by day-by-day accounts and pictures of our unforgettable vacation.

Ireland Fun Facts

1. People are ridiculously friendly. In Cahersiveen I crossed the busy main road through town to take a snapshot of the pub in which we had stopped for a pint; incredibly, motorists in both directions stopped so I could get an unobstructed picture (however, there was the one guy in a car we managed to wave hello to before being waved at, who instead of waving back gave us this “feck off” look).

2. The temperature in August refreshingly averaged in the mid-sixties, which doesn’t keep hearty souls from bathing in the frigid North Atlantic Ocean. Also, it stays light until 9:30 pm in the summer, somehow contributing to very late dinners, which led to very, very late visits to Ashe's pub.

3. Ireland is stunningly beautiful. Thanks to fierce bans on development and outside ownership, views of the Ring of Kerry's mountains, beaches, pastures and idyllic cottages, and the colorful villages' local shops, are wonderfully unblemished by Hyatt hotels and Starbucks. And because parking is in such short supply in many places, people creatively park their cars wherever – on the sidewalk, on the road’s “shoulder,” which might be a yard wide, or right in the street, as long as it is physically possible for other cars to squeeze by.

4. There is no tipping, which means the waitresses and waiters aren't motivated to rush you out -- or quickly come to take your order or bring your food. They'll get to you when they do, and do so with the aforementioned charm and friendliness.

5. You drive on the left side of the road, the majority of which are very narrow and windy, with tall impervious hedgerows on either side with branches designed to scratch the finish of cars of those rented by people like me who decline the damage insurance, and the steering wheel is on the right.

6. There is very little cultural and ethnic diversity. The population is porcelain white and Catholic or Protestant. Beautiful red hair flows abundantly as the Guinness. The children and young adults are beautiful, but lives of hardship, heavy drinking and smoking seem to have taken a toll on older generations.

7. During the Olympics, Irish watch hurling, field hockey, and equestrian events. They don't appear to give two craps about swimming or track and field. (Hurling is sort of like lacrosse, except they use flat-faced bats to hit the ball, either on the ground or in the air.)

8. Alcohol is consumed in copious quantities and at all times of day. I can’t blame them – Jameson, Powers, Guinness, Murphy’s – it’s all pretty damn good. Budweiser and Heineken are ubiquitously available for the U.S. and German tourists, although I did see quite a few Irish drinking them. C’mon, lads, come to your senses!

9. Straight white teeth are not highly coveted in Ireland. We saw only one dentist office in our journeys, and it had permanently closed.

10. The Irish are by necessity ecologically sensitive. Diesel and petrol are twice as expensive there as in the U.S., so cars are smaller. Similarly, toilets have dual flush buttons (the small one for less water, the larger one for more). The "Bring Bank" recycling centers have separate bins for cans, paper, plastic, and glass by color -- green, brown, clear. I will note that in Dingle we watched the recycling guy operate a crane to lift each bin and dump them indiscriminately into the unsegregated back of a truck. But it’s a great thought.

Day by Day

Sunday
We slept in until 8:30 -- unheard of for Donna and me. We had a light breakfast and walked down to town, where there was a farmer's market. We bought excellent artesan cheeses and breads, stuffed olives, local produce and more. Jack was recognized by a vendor.

We returned to the house, ate lunch, then drove, on the recommendation of one of the market vendors, along the Wild Atlantic Way -- a coastal road that took us to beautiful Ross Beigh Beach (almost exactly due east from the beaches we know in New Jersey). Many of the stout bathers were not in wetsuits despite the frigid ocean temperature, 60ish air temp and gusting chilly wind.

From there we got on the Ring of Kerry road, the N70, and stopped at numerous overlooks with breathtaking views of ocean, mountains, meadows and, of course, sheep, arriving at another beach in Kells. We parked and walked out along a concrete pier enjoying the sea breeze.

Then we continued on the N70 to Cahersiveen, another picturesque village with beautiful vistas. We stopped at Caileen's for a pint. The locals were watching hurling on one TV and horse racing on the other. As we walked out of the bar, I wanted to get a picture of Donna, Eileen and Andrew under the bar sign so I could remember it, so I ran across the two-lane highway, busy with Sunday afternoon tourist traffic for a shot. When I got to the other side, I aimed my phone but the cars were blocking the shot. In true over-the-top Irish courtesy, traffic in both directions stopped so I could get an unobstructed picture. Amazing.

Upon our return, we walked down the hill to dinner at the Towers hotel.

Monday
After breakfast Kate, Steve, Eileen and Andrew drove into Cork, about two hours to the east, and to Blarney Castle. Donna and I stayed in Glenbeigh with Corinne. We took her with us into town for lunch, then stopped in the market for groceries. Back at the house we read and took it easy, enjoying time with our first grandchild.

Tuesday
Off to Skellig Michael! We took the N70 along the Ring of Kerry past Cahersiveen to Portmagee, where Andrew, Steve, Jack, Erin, Donna and I boarded a small boat that took us and six others to Skellig Michael, eight miles off the Irish coast. The boat takes 50 minutes in the tumultuous sea.

Skellig Michael is a desolate, rocky, forbidding island that juts out of the ocean like a brown stony iceberg. It looks like the hideout for the villain in a James Bond movie (actually, it was used in the final scene in the most recent Star Wars movie, as the lair of Luke Skywalker). Near the top of the island are the remains of a monastery built in the 6th century, accessible by climbing the 600 stairs the monks hewed out of stone fifteen hundred years ago. The worn and sometimes slippery steps wind up one side of the island, and in many places, are perilously close to the edge of the cliffs that drop hundreds of feet straight down to the water. The trip up takes about 25 minutes; going down takes about 45 and is much more treacherous. The wind that blows off the ocean could push the careless or distracted hiker off the steps and to a watery death; it last happened when two Americans perished that way in 2009.

Noteworthy are the "beehive" structures the monks built.

Wednesday

After a liesurely morning we drove to the Dingle Peninsula, across Dingle Bay north of Glenbeigh, to the coast town of Dingle. We passed through Killorglin, which was celebrating its annual Puck Fair, a giant three day festival.

We visited Dingle 10 years ago, in January, not a busy tourist season. We were charmed by Dingle's remoteness and lack of modernity. Many of the market signs and most road signs were in Irish, and most of the customers in the pubs were fishermen who spoke Irish.

This visit we were struck by the commercialization of the town. The streets were packed with restaurants, pubs, jewelers and clothiers. While there weren't chain merchants, it felt more like Annapolis than an anachronistic fishing village. Still, it was a day we all spent together in a beautiful place.

After lamb chops for dinner we all walked to Ashes and left around midnight under a clear, starry night devoid of light pollution. Donna, me, Jack and Erin lay on the patio and looked at the millions of stars and saw shooting stars and satellites.

Thursday
After saying goodbye this morning to Jack and Erin, who were off to Barcelona, Donna and I hiked the Glenbeigh to Ross Beigh Beach trail. The round trip from Castle View took about three hours. Some of the walk is on the little road that connects the two areas and the most is a newly built trail through ferns, red-barked pine trees, colorful wildflowers, and steep mountainsides where sheep graze.

The beach, which we had driven to on Sunday, was nearly empty, the day-trippers back at work and the weather, a chilly 60 degrees and a brisk wind, not conducive to a visit by those here on holiday.

We returned by taking the road instead of the trail, managing to not get clipped by the occasional passing car's mirror, and stopped at Rumors Bistro for sandwiches and soft drinks.

Friday

Donna and I drove to Waterville, a lovely seaside town on the Ring of Kerry east of Portmagee. Back in the 1920s, Charlie Chaplain stayed at the Butler Arms Hotel there and the village has never let go of it. There are Charlie Chaplain film festivals, a Charlie Chaplain museum, even a Charlie Chaplain statue.

The main street, which runs parallel to the shore, is lined with houses, shops and pubs painted in bright colors. We strolled along -- what else, the Charlie Chaplain Walkway -- by the beach, where the rounded, cobble-like stones are of different colors, including muted brick red and beautiful turquoise.

We headed in to O'Dwyers on the recommendation of Eileen and Andrew, who had been there the day before. It was devoid of tourists except for us (until later when a family visiting from another part of Ireland came in), charming, with a handsome old bar, comfortable plush booths and an electric hearth made to resemble a coal fire. And of course, a friendly, pretty waitress. Donna finally got her Irish stew (most places we had visited didn't have it) and King Puck beer.

Upon our return to Glenbeigh, we relaxed for a while, did some preliminary gathering and packing for the flight home the following day. Then we all walked down to the Glenbeigh Hotel, in operation for more than a century and a half in a building more than two centuries old for a final dinner together in glorious Ireland.