Conquering Dingle

Some summer we are having here. It was roasting in May and followed by rain that lastest all of June and through the start of July. Today it’s sunny again and I have been watching the diggers excavate the field behind my house. The field is to no longer be a field.


I have a bag of Hunky Dorys open on the bed beside me and the Olympics playing in a tab. Four years ago, I was doing the exact same thing at the other end of Ireland. Angry Pete (how he got that name, I don’t know) had helped me run a cable up two flights of stairs so we could watch the games on the big hostel TV in Killarney.

Speaking of Killarney, I recently made my annual pilgrimage back to the town I lived in during my first visit to Ireland.

Since Jack was busy with football and Tiernan was working, I took my Aunt with me. It was her first time in the county, so I wanted to show her some of my favourite places. Sadly the weather was scheduled to take a turn for the shocking. In anticipation of this we picked what was supposed to be the “best day” weatherwise and used it to drive out to Dingle and Slea Head.


The sheer quantity of people in Dingle over the Summer is outrageous! It’s unsurprising for one of the top scenic drives in the world, but it really was teeming. I drove around the waterfront a couple of times before taking a chance on a rouge, blue P sign which lead me to a great little pay & display near the Lidl.

Happily parked, we wandered back through the town, browsing and buying from the many gorgeous boutiques. I know Claddagh rings are kind of Galway’s thing (named after the town that is now a suburb of the city), but I bought my first and only, much loved Claddagh in Dingle.

For lunch, we went for the packed variety. There are a lot of awesome pubs and fish and chipper in Dingle, but there is no way my hangry beast would have the patience to deal with the crowds of seaside pilgrims pouring off the Fungi tour boats and out of coaches.

We sat on the walls of the marina and watched the Fungi boats go out, one after the other, into Dingle Bay. It was breezy but pleasant. The threat of poor weather was looming; not yet realised. Our ham and cheese sambos were consumed with some excellent people watching (my favourite sport) and, after an hour, we agreed to try our luck on the scenic drive.

Unbelievably, the Slea Head drive itself was mostly devoid of cars. The coaches must tackle it earlier in the day, coming into Dingle for lunch. This left us with ample opportunity to pull in from the tight roads and take in the view – which was amazing! I regaled as many of the Tour Tales I could remember as we wound our way around the peninsula.




An hour or two later we pulled into the South Pole Inn in Annascual (where I was recognised as a former hostel employee). We ordered a huge wrap that appeared twenty minutes later, dripping with sauce and the non-driver also downed a pint of local brew. Driving back to Killarney, in the twilight, on full bellies, brought back so many memories of the times I drove that route back in 2012. I think we have that food to thank for our excellent mood going into a really bizarre Hypnotist show at the Gleneagle Hotel, Killarney. Now THAT was an experience I can hardly find the words to describe.

I think with those sorts of hotel shows you need to go in willing to play the game – for the craic, like. Fortunately, there were either some fabulous actors or some really convincing hypnotism. Each to their own with that, I say. Although, the girl pretending her pants were on fire was PRETTY HILARIOUS.

I hope you are enjoying these lovely photos and this arbitrary trip summary! At the moment I am living to a rhythm of wake up, work, come home, collapse, repeat. So I do apologise for the low frequecy and dubious quality of these posts. I just wanted to post something rather than nothing.

But I have three weeks off in October; you’ll be sick of me then as there will be nothing to do but write blawgs!


13 thoughts on “Conquering Dingle

  1. Pingback: Our 2017 Travel Bucketlist – Through Europe and Beyond | Boots not Roots

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