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The Celtic gods are with us. The weather forecast for today is wretched--humid and rainy all day. But our 35 mile trip is perfectly dry - a little gray and occasionally misty and hazy but we time our pub stops perfectly during the rains. With today's ride we cover the Dingle Peninsula with remarkable thoroughness. Our trip to
Slea Head on Wednesday was out along the west road, so today we go out of town by a narrow northwest lane through the mountains and with no traffic. We pass through a beautiful, deeply green, bowl of a valley and then switch-back over the mountain pass on a lane lined by 7'-8' fuschia bushes with occasional breaks for great views.
We explore an ancient fort on a promontory of the ocean. The cliffs down to the crashing ocean are sheer and it is eerie to hang around such precarious edges. Typical of Irish historical locations, this one is just in a field with a marker and completely unattended, and
except for a little trash here and there it remains unmolested: no spray paint, no obvious vandalism--just the ravages of sea, wind, and rain, and bush and grass encroachment. We take a number of little roads out on various peninsula points, making room often for tractors with equipment that needs the width of the full lane.
The whole of the Dingle Peninsula is a Gaelic speaking area, especially the back roads and little villages. In many cases road signs are in Gaelic only, and one has to recognize the Gaelic name or become lost. We enter a little village just as it begins to rain, so we stop for a beer and lunch and meet Karl from Germany and three twenty-something's from Colorado. All are friendly and we have pleasant discussion of the beers of Ireland and Germany and the prevalence of Budweiser in Ireland. The pub mistress is a chatty person also and joins in. She tells us as so many pub owners have, that Budweiser long necks are a big seller in Ireland, especially with young drinkers. Soon after this stop we hit the north coast line of the Dingle Peninsula - an area we had not biked. The road hugs the edge of the cliffs and the area is remarkably rugged and beautiful in a haunting way - because today the gray haze, not fog, is heavy, and we can only see some of the Blasket Islands, but then only in hazy outline. There is a romantic isolation to this area – it's quite attractive, but
when I consider really living here I know I couldn't survive. I'm too much a product of civilized amenities. I need theaters, concerts, live music, shopping centers, book stores, easy car travel, cable TV and the like. This area is great for a vacation, but it will stay isolated because few today can live with so few of the modern conveniences. The difficulty in living in this area is dramatized in the museum in the village of Dunquin where we find the Blasket Island Museum. The Blasket Islands were populated for
thousands of years, and in WW I 200 people lived on the big island, but by 1953 only 20 hardy souls remained. The government evacuated them, and the islands were abandoned. Life is too hard even for these tough people, and it is too costly for the government to provide essential services to the island. Over the years island life has been chronicled by many writers. Books,
memories, and collections of letters have resulted. We watch a video that is an intriguing glimpse of the island life over the years. It includes many still photos and some rare movie footage from over the last 75 years. On our return to Dingle we retrace our Wednesday route along the south coast of Dingle and since there is the omnipresent haze today the view seems new. Once we reach Slea Head the majority of the ride is flat or downhill, and once the route pulls away from
the coast I love to kick it and fly home the remaining six miles or so. We hit the tub by 7:00 p.m. and are in our restaurant, the Old Smokehouse, by 8:15 p.m. We have some wine outside in their patio along the river and come in only when the mist turns into a rain. We hear music at Murphy's again and find it packed with locals and tourists. We have a very sweet final day of biking. Ireland has been very good to me. (1042 miles) |
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