Breakfast in Dingle was different, no bacon, beans or bangers here, instead we were presented with a Continental spread including a range of cold meats, cheeses and pastries alongside the usual fruit, cereal and yoghurt which actually made a pleasant change. Having checked that the car which had spent the night on the street was still fully intact we loaded up and headed out around the Dingle Peninsula.
Not far out of town the spectacular views began, continuing throughout the rest of the trip. Adjacent to one of the cliffside stops we checked out some pre-historic stone “beehive” huts. Set inside a stonewall compound the huts were round in shape with a domed roof made completely out of local hillside stone without any fixing compound such as cement at all. The whole structure looked extremely solid and though there had obviously been some restoration work done on them for them to have survived so intact on such a windy peninsula stands testament to their builders so long ago.
The huts themselves are big enough to easily stand in but with only a single doorway opening were a little dark inside. Around and in the walls of the compound were a number of small spaces that looked as though they would have been used to store food or other items.
 Beehive Huts |
 Mr P Inspecting The Next B&B |
The huts were situated on a small farming property where the owners were just drenching and marking some sheep that had recently been shorn. One of the flock had somehow jumped out of the pen and it and the farm sheepdog caused much amusement, (and no doubt some consternation for passing drivers), as the sheep alternately ran into the bracken then onto the road and back past the pen, trying to rejoin its mates. All the time another smaller dog high up in the top window of the adjacent house was letting all and sundry know that it didn’t appreciate what was happening either.
 Shorn Sheep |
 Who Is That Dog In The Window |
Continuing the theme of sheep doing weird things, just a little further up the road we came across a ram standing on the stone fence on the cliff side of the road using the wire atop the fence to scratch itself. Hopping down from the fence it then proceeded to join two other sheep on the small sloping ledge that led to the quite precipitous drop to the sea. Obviously these sheep at least don’t suffer vertigo.
 Scratching Sheep |
 Dingle Peninsula |
Sheep shots done and with cars coming up behind we drove slowly on the quite narrow and windy roads, (think the Great Ocean Road forty or fifty years ago), soaking in the scenery as there were few if any places to stop to take pics. Finally we rounded Blaskett Head and the stop used to ferry people over to the nearby islands. Checking out the views from the cliff edge we couldn’t help notice a quite reasonable sized hole nearby that reflected rather poorly on the stability of said cliffs. With a little more caution we explored a little more before enquiring about the ferry service. Unfortunately our schedule didn’t allow us to take the 80 minute return trip to the island which Mr P didn’t argue too vigorously against. We did however take the short but extremely steep path down to the beach where the rubber duckies used to take the passengers to the ferry are stored. Passing the booking huts we noted the ingenious local measures used to keep the structures in place during what must be some occasionally strong blows.
 Blaskett Kelp |
 Blaskett Cliffs |
 Blaskett Beach |
 Is That A Hole In The Cliff???? |
The water on that day despite a reasonable sized swell was very clear and we could see the large kelp beds below that provided cover for the lobsters that might be caught in the pots laid around the bay. Along with the rubber duckies were numerous long black bottomed boats that had a small cut-out to enable the attachment of a motor. Ms V bravely edged her way down the slippery boat ramp to get a feel of the Atlantic Ocean.
 The Blaskett Island Ferry |
 Blaskett Black Boats |
 Blaskett Black Boat Upturned |
 The Winds Get Pretty Strong Around Here?? |
Blaskett Panorama
Travelling on there were further spectacular cliff and panoramic views though the scudding showers that regularly blew in with a force sufficient to invert a number of umbrellas that fellow travellers sought to use to keep the rain off.
 Pointy Heads Dingle |
 Another Dingle Panorama |
Back in Dingle it was time to get some supplies for a picnic before making the steep and steady climb up and over the Connor Pass. This was to be the second time through the pass for Mr P and Ms V who remembered their last visit as being quite taxing because of the narrowness of the road. Heading up the mountains this time though their concerns were eased considerably as on the Dingle side at least the road had been widened to a more normal width. Newly added side stopping spaces even enabled us to refresh ourselves from one of many streams running down the mountain.
Supping From A Clear Mountain Water
At the top of the pass we pulled in to the carpark to have our picnic. The quite bracing wind made this a bit of a challenge though we were rewarded with some great views of the water on both sides of the peninsula, (on the last occasion Mr P and Ms V travelled the pass, the mountain was shrouded in cloud. Heading down we found that the road improvements hadn’t fully been implemented though fortunately we didn’t have to do any reverses, only the occasional stop to allow others to squeeze past as we all collectively breathed in.
 Connor Pass Looking Back To Dingle |
 The Rocks Of Connor Pass |
Down on the flat it was onwards to the Tarbert Ferry across the Shannon River. Semingly sensing our need to keep things moving, the ferry was waiting for us and we basically drove on without any wait before heading over the river. Making very steady time heading towards the Cliffs Of Moher we found our way stopped by some roadworks. Finally getting the green light we drove off only to hear a strange noise coming from the car rear. Getting out to check our worst fears were realised when we noted a very flat rear tyre.
Things got worse when we checked the boot for although there was a spare tyre it was in fact only an emergency one that could be used at restricted speed, (given our timetable not what we wanted to know). Having finally depacked our gear, worked out the machinations for changing the tyre, changed it and then repacked we drove the short distance into Quilty only to find the streets blocked with some sort of festival. Traffic including us was reduced to less than walking pace as cars simply stopped in the only lane available between the cars parked on the kerb so that people in the car could converse with customers spilling our of the shops and pubs.
Finally out of the High Street we noticed a service station and repair shop so we stopped to seek tyre assistance. Unfortunately he was closing but he did direct us to another tyre shop that would be open, (you guessed it, back through town). Dutifully we drove back through the crowds again that mercifully were beginning to thin a little to the tyre shop.
Here the young guy behind the counter assured us that he would get us going very quickly. Ten minutes later he finally appeared with his mate of similar vintage, (maybe 20), to check out the tyre and the quite large 3-4cm stone protruding from it. Their first solution was to try and pull the stone out with some tyre pliers. Of course this didn’t happen so next it was to try hitting the stone in order to drive it into the tyre, (now of course rubber is flexible and so simply absorbed each of the hammer blows without moving the stone at all). Their next and final idea, (thank goodness), was to attempt to hyper-inflate the tyre in order to pop the stone out. At least they decided to take the tyre outside and aim the stone away from any potential danger before attaching the tyre hose. Now laws of physics suggest that it is pretty nigh impossible to hold a tyre hose on a fully inflated tyre let alone add any more air let alone thinking about any possibility of connections along the by now fully extended hose giving way. So it was that despite their best efforts, the lads were unable to help us other than giving us the name of a tyre retailer in Galway.
Back facing another drive through ??? we decided that our stop that night would not be Galway but at one of the numerous wayside B&B’s that seemed to pop up very regularly along the road. With that decision made we were able to stop off at the Cliffs Of Moher to take in the cliffs, castle and very blustery winds though all of the information and tourist shops were long shut.
 Cliffs Of Moher |
 Cliffs Of Moher Bay |
 Castle Of Moher |
Back on the road and getting closer to 9:00pm, we were by now quite peckish and just at the right time a relatively rare for these parts family run restaurant hove into view. The menu was even more promising and given the hour most of the diners were finishing up. A table was soon prepared and the food that adorned it was obviously home cooked being not only absolutely scrumptious but more than plentiful. Now fully sated we moseyed a little further along before locating a very accommodating B&B and some well earned sleep.
Traditional Home Cooked Food: YUM
