Dingle

It should be noted by any follower of this blog that my camera is currently banjaxed (to use an Irish colloquialism), so until I am able to consult a Canon-literate professional, I will not be posting any photographs excepting those taken with kindly lent cameras.

This past weekend we took a trip to Dingle on the Kerry coast. The bus ride was long, but we stopped in Adare, a rich and touristy town that reminded me strongly of New England. A sudden hailstorm forced a few of us into the nearest pub for a quick lunch before we continued on to Dingle.

The landscape changed as we entered Kerry. The hills rolled and inclined more sharply, the valleys and bluffs seemed straight out of fantasy stories. Heavy rain met us as we pulled into the town of Dingle. It is the quintessential coastal destination in Ireland. Our hostel was the best I have seen yet, cozy and snug and better equipped than any in Dublin. The room I shared was more like a hotel room than a hostel. I walked about with a group that continually changed, losing or gaining companions as we went. We stopped into the little shops for an hour before everything closed. It was not the best planning that we had left at 10:30, as it allowed very little meandering time on Saturday evening. We did manage to visit The Little Cheese Shop, where I procured a wedge of staggeringly strong Stilton and a couple of exotically flavored chocolates. I only tried the thyme/basil and salted pecan flavors, but they are life-changing. As soon as I got back I had to look up bus routes back to Dingle simply for the chocolate. Turns out it involves at least four bus transfers, and a total trip of between 7 and 18 hours. There is always next semester.

I detoured with Luisa to the church on the hill to see if they were still open, as the building boasts some Harry Clarke windows. Unfortunately we had just missed their opening hours. We had consolation sandwiches at Harrington's fish restaurant and wandered back to the hostel. A quick run to SuperValu (the only thing open past 6 pm) and an evening of QI with tea and biscuits by the fire made for a pleasant if uneventful evening.

On Sunday morning we climbed back onto the bus for a tour of the Kerry coast. We stopped here and there for photographs, and my fellow students were very obliging with their cameras. We made it to a sandy beach where many of us, myself included, decided to take a wade in the freezing Atlantic waters. A particularly robust wave nearly washed all of our shoes out to sea, and we scrambled madly to save them before being hurried back to the bus so we would not miss our appointment at the Great Blasket Island center. There was another group at the center, most of whom were from Springfield, Massachusetts, where the residents of Great Blasket emigrated in 1953.

Enjoying the surf. Credit: Allison Bogard.

On the beach. Credit: Allison Bogard.

The path to the Gallarus Oratory. Credit: Luisa Earle.

The Westernmost point on the Irish mainland. Credit: Allison Bogard.

We continued on the coast of the peninsula and stopped off at the Gallarus Oratory, a tiny Church believed to be early Christian. We traveled back into Dingle the faster way and had a quick lunch. I was sorry to leave without having more time to explore, but I added many spots in Dingle to my list of places I mist revisit. Nearly everyone fell asleep on the return journey, but we were roused for a bathroom break at the Crescent shopping center in Dooradoyle an hour or two before reaching the Burren. Reinvigorated with miniature muffins and tea, we dozed for the last stretch of the bus ride before collapsing in our beds. At least I did, though I know some people of questionable sanity who ended up pulling all-nighters at the studio after getting back.