Killarney Plus 3

Our fourth day for Killarney is actually a road day. Thanks to an early start we will do the Ring of Kerry, which is a trip down and around the Kerry Peninsula, a frequent destination for tour buses and drivers. It offers some spectacular views out over the Celtic Sea to the Atlantic, as the road twists its way around through small villages, up and down hills and around sharp bends on a fairly narrow two-lane road. The road is actually so narrow in places, that tour buses and semi’s are only allowed to make the circle counter-clockwise. We’re not sure if it’s the law, but it’s a good idea, and becomes obvious once you’ve seen the road.

Our first stop is at Killorglin, a little town on the northwest corner of the Kerry Peninsula. This is pretty much a potty stop in preparation for the Ring. We stop at the public restrooms downtown, right across the road from another hotel owned by the Huggard family, the folks who own the Lake Hotel. James runs across the road to chat up the hotel staff and scope the place out for possible future use. Not enough rooms, since there are inevitably some singles along on the tours and the hotel has barely enough rooms for the regular complement of couples. Nice enough place, but it wouldn’t do. In the meantime, folks work through the minimal public facilities, pausing at an artist’s shop that is incorporated in the building, and taking a brief walk up the main street. Then back on the bus (which by the way is not a bus, it’s a coach) and we’re off on our Kerry adventure.

An adventure it surely is. Kerry is farm country, and if you shop at Sam’s, you’ve propably seen Kerry Gold butter and cheese in the coolers. Actually, there’s good farming country from Kerry all across through Cork to the east, and someone (a California resident, by the way) comments to us that this is pretty much the Wisconsin of Ireland.

At a lookout point along the road, the bus stops for a leg stretch and a photo opportunity. It must be a popular stop, because at the turnout there is an unoccupied ice cream wagon, and there are two elderly fellows sitting by their little panel trucks, one with a small dog and three lambs sitting by the wall out of the wind, hoping that Americans will pay to take pictures, and another with a dog playing a button box accordion and keeping time stamping on a sheet of metal, again hoping that people will reward his efforts. It’s a windy site, and the low wall affords little protection, so the lambs huddle together on the asphalt and are definitely not in a gamboling mood. Paula nonchalantly wanders past them, but sneaks a picture of the lambs. And there is talk of Opportunities for Ice Cream at the next stop in Sneem on the south coast.

As we are settling in and about to get back under way, there is movement and a cluster of people looking for something toward the front of the bus. It turns out that one of the group has missed her purse, including her cash, cards and passport. This poses a problem in several ways, since without a passport or her cash cards, her further travels are hampered. And due to the travel restrictions on the Ring, since the bus cannot retrace its route and check back at the place we stopped, nor are there shortcuts back across the peninsula that a bus can negotiate.

Into the concerned cluster of husband, wife, tour leaders, and bus driver. steps Bronagh, James’s wife, with an urgent phone call from the hotel we have left earlier. Although she had been reluctant to answer her cell phone on a prior call, since the phone number was a Dublin number, this is now the hotel calling to say that a German tourist had found the purse in the lavatory in Killorglin, had found some hotel information in the purse and a cell phone number, had tried calling the hotel, and had been given Bronagh’s cell phone, and had tried calling Bronagh, apparently using a cell phone sim card purchased in Dublin for the vacation, and then the hotel called Bronagh to say that the purse had been found, and was being held at Killorglin.

Next problem, how to get back to Killorglin. It’s only about 15 minutes back, but the bus can’t go back, it can only move on. So James approaches the button box player, and offers him some money to drive back to Killorglin. The player responds that for that money he would drive to Shannon and back. So the two of them load up in the old rattle-trap truck with the dog, but leaving the button box sitting by the wall. And half an hour later, James is back with the purse, all funds and cards intact.

The trip back to Killorglin for James was interesting. In the way of conversation, James commented that really, the only thing he knew about Killorglin was a mention of the town in a song. Immediately, the driver launched into the song and sang it all the way into Killorglin, and all the way back after. The dog sang along for parts of the trip, between panting and licking James’s ear, not a great treat for someone who doesn’t care for dogs. And James says he met the German tourist, and not only thanked him profusely on behalf of the tour group, but also offered to forget about the wars.

So with valuables retrieved, we proceed on our way. The stop in Sneem is a lunch stop, and the group disperses in order not to swamp any one pub. The one we choose is a combination pub and convenience store, pub on one side of the wall, convenience store on the other. As this is the area that James has pointed out as a source for ice cream in Sneem, when lunch is over, some of the small group go next door to look at ice cream, and it’s soft serve out of a machine. One of outr group of four goes for the ice creeam, and it’s not until we get outside again that we see the store across the road offering home-made ice cream. Oh, well. There is talk about good ice cream at the next stop, at Mary Galligan’s farm, which is a shop and bathroom break.

On the way back to the bus, several of us gravitate toward a music shop near the town square where the bus is parked. Paula and I have heard a Mary black CD, and we’re in the process of looking at the CD’s with a couple of postcards already in hand, when James pipes up that for any of us on the tour, the bus will be leaving shortly and by the way, don’t bother with buying any music in here, the CD’s are outrageously overpriced, and the shop owner (who is at the cash register) should be ashamed of himself, and there will be much better selections and prices in Bantry and Cork. When the shop owner sputters, and says he has sale prices in the back, James says that they’re all crap, and €19.99 for current CD’s is a load of shite, and the bus is leaving. Tour members drop their selections, and move out, leaving Paula to cope with an sputtering shop owner to ring up her two postcards.

As promised, the next stop features restrooms, but no, it’s too early for ice cream, so their cooler is turned off. On the other hand, in the men’s room, there is a spider that James says is the biggest he has ever seen, stuck in the washing up sink, which he calls several guys in to inspect. Happily, he doesn’t share it with the women folk, since that would have put them right off their shopping. The store is an old cottage with a thatched roof, and several rooms equipped in cottage style — very simple furniture and tools, plus a shopping area witn touristy stuff and hand crafted items from around the area.

The final stop is in Glengarriff, a few miles short of Bantry on Bantry Bay. The group is housed in two different hotels, about a hundred yards apart on opposite sides of the street. Paula and I are in the smaller hotel, Casey’s Hotel, along with five other couples, witht he rest of them at the larger Glengarriff Hotel. They are both in close proximity to dangerously good shopping, featuring nice crafts, woolen goods, some music, and some nicer tourist goods and books.

Breakfasts for the Casey’s residents (we’re referred to as the inmates or the ex-pats) will be at that hotel, but dinners will be communal at the Glenngarriff. In the meantime, it is raining and cold, and the planned activities for the days in Glengarriff will be switched around in hopes of better weather. And there will be a concert after dinner in the upstairs gathering room.

Casey’s is only a bed, breakfast, and bar hotel, so there’s no loss of custom there, and the musicians in the group are mostly housed there, so they’re encouraged by the owner to sit in the bar in the afternoon and play, practice or share. And a pint or five is certainly as enjoyable there as anywhere else.

Dinner at the other hotel is surprising, in that there is a varied menu to choose from, all offered as part of the package, so after a brief nap and a pint at Casey’s, we are all treated to a huge meal, offering salmon, beef roast, steak, fish and chips, and etcetera. The dinner is delicious, served to individual order by a staff of three for 44 diners.

The concert after dinner attracts other locals, since there isn’t a whole lot else going on at this time of year, and among the locals is an American couple retired from living and working in Virginia, whom Paula chats up, and who are now permanently residing in Ireland and living in a house that is owned by the hotel owner, while she does medical transcription work to and from the States all by internet, and he does ***.

After the concert and social time, Paula and I stop in at the bar at Casey’s for a glass of wine. Paula orders a glass of white wine and I order a glass of shiraz and chat with the owner/bartender, Donald. When we finally announce that it’s time for bed, he bids us hold up and sample something nice, a white shiraz. .

Suitably warmed by the conversation and the libations, we toddle off to bed.