After reaching Annascaul, we spent a very pleasant and comfortable evening at the Anchor B&B, talking about maps, traveling by foot, and other important matters with Brian, the innkeeper. I was going to write a short piece via cellphone, but I fell asleep with the phone still clutched in my hand.
In the morning, we set out for Dingle with Brian’s ham sandwiches tucked safely into our packs, after I had to run back half a mile to retrieve the sandwiches, which we had forgotten. After a short stint on a busy motorway, the little yellow man pointed the way up a country lane.
As we were walking, we noticed that the sky was pale sienna-colored and that visibility was nil. Having experienced summers in the Tahoe area during wildfire season, we wrote this off to a large burn somewhere and thought no more of it.
We spent a very pleasant break at the beach in Glanminard in the shadow of an ancient castle. We met a family on the beach, and we chatted with the father as the kids chipped mussels off the rocks. We learned then that the
haze was courtesy of a volcano on Iceland and that all transatlantic flights were grounded. Good thing we still have a couple of weeks. Hopefully, geology will cooperate with our schedule.
We then began a confusing afternoon of turns, jogs and stiles as the trail wove its way through countless sheep pastures and through the middle of working farms. Overall, the farmers and the dogs seemed pleased to see us, and they even rolled over to let Miss Fish give belly rubs (the dogs, not the farmers). The farmers greeted us in Irish, and would switch to English when they realized that we were American. The conversations ran like this:
“Dia duit!”
“Hello!”
“Ah, on holiday, then?”
“Yes, we’re having a lovely time”
“Well, you picked the right weather for it”
“Too bad about the volcano, though”
“Well, I’m not complaining. For once, it’s not raining.”
etc., followed by suggestions of places to see up the trail.
The beige haze seemed to magnify the heat, even as it reduced the sunlight. By the time we reached the final stretch into Dingle, we were more than ready to finish.
Dingle is a pretty town, with brightly-colored buildings and narrow streets. What is eerie is that there’s no-one here. Other than a few townspeople and a handful of diehard tourists, the place is empty. There are only a few people in the pubs, the touristy chotchke stores are silent, and the only people in the restaurants are the staff sitting and re-reading the paper for the fourth time that day. We’re here before tourist season really gets into high-gear, so we’re hoping that it’s the calm before the big rush.
For the last 20 kilometers, Miss Fish began obsessing about fresh fish. About every 500 meters, she would blurt out that when she got to Dingle, she would indulge herself with a fresh fish dinner. “It can be raw as long as there’s just a little breading.”
To satisfy Miss Fish’s hankering for fresh fish, the innkeeper at the wonderful Archway B&B recommended “Out of the Blue,” a tiny little restaurant on Dingle’s waterfront. Walking up, all you see is a little blue shack, and the vision of fried fish in a paper bag pops into your head. However, it’s a well-appointed, busy restaurant with a row of Michelin awards on the wall, and probably the best fish dinners ever. Miss Fish ordered the scallops, and when the scallops arrived, the familiar round cylinder of meat was adorned with a large, extra bit of scallop attached. After inquiring, we found out that the extra bit was scallop genitalia. Well, now we know that the restaurateurs in the US are holding out on us, because it was half again as big as the scallop, and tasted great…sort of a Rocky Mountain Oyster of the Sea. Dinner set us back €80, but it was our big dinner out for the trip. Back to the ham sandwiches from here on.
We start up the trail on Sunday, and everyone we speak to states that the prettiest parts of the trail are yet to come. Unfortunately, there are no ATMs, no mobile service, and most likely no internet cafe’s from here on out, so updates will be sparse, if at all. We’ll put up a map of our track, at least.
Random pictures on the trail:
Comments
4 responses to “Dingle…finally”
Great photos and tales. I hope the sky clears up for you (and the planet) soon!
The mossy glade photo is exceptional – it would be awesome if you were playing your whistle and Miss Fish her mandolin for your first duet CD cover!
That mossy glade was really nice. The moss-covered banks were soft enough to invite a nap, but there was walking that needed to happen. Miss Fish stayed on the stone bridge and waited for me to finish goofing off.
Wonderful pictures! The towns are so interesting. What a chance meeting of a fellow “music maker”! All is well here; hope the air is clear from now til you get home.
Great photos!! Glad to see all are having fun!