I walked up this morning along the slope from the east to the top of Sybil Head, where one comes out suddenly on the brow of a cliff with a straight fall of many hundred feet into the sea. It is a place of indescribable grandeur, where one can see Carrantuohill and the Skelligs and Loop Head and the full sweep of the Atlantic, and, over all, the wonderfully tender and searching light that is seen only in Kerry. Looking down the drop of five or six hundred feet, the height is so great that the gannets flying close over the sea look like white butterflies, and the choughs like flies fluttering behind them. One wonders in these places why anyone is left in Dublin, or London, or Paris, when it would be better, one would think, to live in a tent or hut with this magnificent sea and sky, and to breathe this wonderful air, which is like wine in one’s teeth.
John Millington Synge, from “In West Kerry,” In Wicklow and West Kerry (1912)
We had reserved today to drive the Ring of Kerry, a 111-mile circuit around the Iveragh Peninsula, and the weather could have been better. Mostly it was grey and drizzly but we still got to see many amazing sights.
Killarney is the most popular starting point of the ring, and we purposely set out on it clockwise, as all of the tour buses circumnavigate counter-clockwise. In other words, we decided we’d rather be startled by busses hurtling at us around blind corners than getting stuck behind them and unable to pass. I think it was the right decision.
We drove through Killarney National Park, a special conservation area heavy with forest. We came across a deserted church across the road from a waterfall under a stone bridge.
We were assaulted by a clout of gnats at Ladies View, a scenic vantage of the Lakes of Killarney and named so because of Queen Victoria’s ladies-in-waiting visit to the spot in 1861.
Outside Kenmare, we came across a bike accident, then some sheep in the road, but I don’t think the two were connected. Dana thought she saw a rainbow over a valley.
We got lunch at a place called the Village Kitchen in the Dr. Seuss-ish named town of Sneem. After we got back on the road, we were overtaken by some intensely thick fog the higher we climbed in the hills. We came then upon the town named Waterville, which Dana and I knew in advance we’d be stopping at, as it shares the name of the Ohio village in which we grew up.
The seaside village’s main claim to fame, I found out later, is that Charlie Chaplin and his family enjoyed the place and visited several times. On account of the intense mistiness, we didn’t go down to the beach to inspect Ballinskelligs Bay but got some snacks (an excellent scone for me and some warm apple pie with ice cream for Dana) and coffee at The Chédéan, a warm little bakery that sold bedraggled used paperbacks from a cart near the fireplace.
The fog made a comeback near Kells and on a sharp turn, we witnessed a car that had rolled onto its side, although no one seemed to have been injured. We made a few more scenic-view stops to better view the majestic green hills and valleys, goats, bridges and cows.
After our return to Killarney, we halfheartedly investigated an outlet mall near our hostel that appeared to have just opened. I noted that the usually fashionable Ben Sherman makes a line of regular, not-quite-so-fashionable broadcloth men’s dress shirts, which aren’t available in the states. We decided some pre-dinner pints were in order and picked a random pub for them, The 98 Bar. There we watched the end of the Chelsea/Arsenal soccer game, in which Chelsea won, 1 to 0, then caught some Simpsons reruns. Dinner was burgers at a place called Busy Bee’s.