We hiked the Dingle Way back in May of 2013. I am inspired to write about it now as St. Patrick’s Day is just about here. This was my second trip to Ireland, the first being with my Mom in 2005. Her dad’s family is from county Down in northern Ireland. We flew into Shannon airport and drove a circuitous route around the island, soaking up our Irish roots.
Eight years later, when Charlie and I stepped outside the airport in Shannon, we saw our first Irish rainbow. It was a “soft” day, with quick shifts from rain to clouds to sunshine and back again. Four bus rides later, Shannon to Limerick, to Abbeyfeale, to Tralee, we finally landed in Dingle.
IRISH SPOKEN HERE: We spent our first night in a B & B outside of Dingle. a colorful village on the Dingle Peninsula in Southwest Ireland that reaches into the Atlantic ocean. We were starving after a day of travel and were presented with a plethora of restaurants and pubs to choose from. We settled on Danno’s where we had a splendid seafood chowder full of local seafood and no potatoes. Afterwards we wandered until the traditional Irish music which fills the pubs on many nights, pulled us into one, and we listened while sipping a glass of the local brew. We kept hearing a language that at first we could not identify. Turns out this is one of the few places where native Irish (Gaelic) is still spoken.
DINGLE TO VENTRY: Our first day of hiking was under gray skies and through cold spitting rain. So we made it a shorter day than planned, just the 4 miles to Ventry instead of the more ambitious plan to make it to Dun Chaoin. Our walk was mostly along the road and through wet green fields of sheep, past stone farm buildings, and an artist’s studio.
We were greeted at our B&B in Ventry with tea and fruitcake in a little windowed room overlooking the bay. Dingle is a small island and our current host and our host from last night had conferred at mass that morning and so we were expected. The friendliness and accommodation of the Irish people is legendary in my book and continued to follow us throughout our entire journey. Dinner that night was at Fruits de Mer where the chef, a French expat, prepared for us a seafood platter of tuna, scallops, hake, cod, monkfish, and prawns.
VENTRY TO DUN CHAOIN: Gray skies turned sunny while we ate the traditional hearty breakfast at our B&B. We began our hike on the beach of Ventry Bay, and after a long stretch, we left the beach for muddy pastures. We trekked along a recessed track lined with pale yellow primroses and curious cows peering at us through their fences. Rough cobblestones turned to muck and for the first time of many my boots sank ankle deep in a sloppy mixture of mud and dung.
We left the cows behind for the steep rocky paths of sheep pastures sharply defined by mortarless rock walls. While slogging through the sheep shit we were hit several times by big squalls that would pass through, drench us, pelt us with large cold drops of hard rain, and whip us with intense gusts of wind. Then just as quickly as it arrived, the short storm would pass and reveal sun kissed hillsides and waves dancing on a sparkling sea.
The most interesting part were the beehive huts known as clochán, round houses built using local stone, and roofed either in stone, using the corbelling technique, or thatched. Some stand alone, some are clustered together. Their exact origin date is unknown but could have been early middle ages or earlier, and they are theorized to have been used at one time as dwellings for monks.
Near to trail’s end is the Dunquin pier, made famous in Irish postcards. Close by, along the road, a house displayed an “Open” sign outside their front door. Inside, we found tea and fresh scones, hosted by a local woman and her son, which we blissfully savored to the nostalgic strains of Neil Young, looking out at an innocent sun soaked sea. after a long day in the Irish weather.
When we finally found our B&B for the night we thankfully dropped our packs and headed for the only pub in town.
DUN CHAOIM TO BALLYFERRITER: We woke up to sunshine, a fortifying breakfast, and with hopeful hearts began our day’s journey. The trail dipped briefly to a rocky beach, then went up and over a rise and back down into a lush plain reaching out to the coast. The sky darkened and opened up to a downpour, the wind shipping the rain sideways. We tried to ward it off with umbrellas but eventually had to duck in under the lee of a rock, where we sipped tea while waiting for the storm to quiet down. This storm wasn’t letting go, though, so we bucked up and continued on our way, the trail a narrow country lane through the ubiquitous fields of cows and sheep. Seagulls mingled with the cows. Yellow primroses and violets spilled out of the crevices in the rock walls. The peaks of the Three Sisters loomed ahead.
By the time we reached the beach the rain had relented. It was a short hike along the beach to the road leading to Ballyfarriter, our destination for the night. Just as it was starting to rain again, we walked into the cozy, welcoming bar next to our hotel, where we indulged in fish and chips.
We spent an extra night in Ballyferriter and spent the day in between visiting the Reask (Riasc) Monastic Settlement and the Gallarus Oratory.
The Reask contains the ruins of an early monastery of the early Medieval period. Enough exists of the stone walls that you can walk through and imagine the layout.
The origin and use of the Gallarus Oratory is still a mystery but it could have been an early Christian stone church or a shelter for pilgrims. It’s built of local stone in the shape of an upturned boat. It has a little entrance and one small East facing window.
We figured we covered 7.5 miles that day. Without packs it seemed like an easy stroll. Back at the hotel we had seafood chowder and fishcakes for dinner.
The following day we boarded a bus for the short trip back to Dingle, where we spent a final night, before making our way to Shannon airport and our flight to Lucca. We only completed about half of the Dingle Way and we plan to come back some day to finish it. As we stood at the bus stop the morning we were leaving Dingle, I felt such a rush of appreciation for this place, these people, their history, their language and traditions, and especially that afternoon cup of tae and scone.
