Dingle Way

Contents

The Dingle Way: Overview
Day 1: Tralee to Camp Junction
Day 2: Camp Junction to Annascaul
Day 3: Annascaul to Dingle
Day 4: Dingle to Dunquin
Day 5: Dunquin to Ballydavid
Day 6: Ballydavid to Cloghane
Day 7: Cloghane to Castlegregory
Appendix: A Note on the Language

For three years, Gordon and Alan have completed long walks in England, and enjoyed them immensely. But this year we felt a need to do something a little different. So we chose Ireland for our fourth expedition, and contracted with Mac's Adventures (opens in separate window) to help us walk the Dingle Way.

We flew to Dublin, from where we would take a train to Tralee, County Kerry, to begin the walk. Of course, it's never that easy. After Gordon amused himself exploring the abstract possibilities of the Liffey River (near the train station), and of the trains themselves, we took our seats on the train we had booked.

A few seconds before departure we were informed that the engine was "not working". The delay left the train 25 minutes behind schedule. Unfortunately, we needed to make a connecting train in Mallow, and the connection time was only 15 minutes. It would be 2 hours until the next train. The good news was, the connecting train waited for us.

We should have expected something like that. We had already suffered through an endless traffic holdup on the bus between airport and train station.

The Dingle Way consists of a set of roads, tracks, and trails laid out around the Dingle peninsula in a clockwise loop. To fit in a one week schedule, we skipped the last 10 kilometers, making a walk of roughly 160K (100 miles). Here is a map of the route (opens in a new window). As you will see, in the end we were about 15 miles short of the even 100.

The peninsula offers some of the most dramatic scenery in Ireland. The far west coast, the most westerly point in Europe, is especially spectacular. (See Day 4)

Of course, like trains and buses, the weather is not always predictable, so one must be prepared for wind and rain at any time. (See Day 5)

There are over 2,000 archeological sites on the peninsula, perhaps a greater density and variety than anywhere else in Western Europe. The western sections are especially rich in offerings. Many sites were quite close to the trail.

Our search for archeological sites was sometimes frustrating. There is a standing stone near Annascaul, visible from the Dingle Way. We were well past before we remembered that it was there. According to our map there was one near the trail as we approached Dingle, but all we saw were piles of stones covered in weeds. We talked to an old sheep farmer, who told us the stone was a mile away, and the cartographers got the location wrong. We finally came across an elegant standing stone on the other side of Dingle.

In Dingle itself we came across a large rock sitting beside a fire plug. It turned out to be a Bullaun stone, a rock with natural indentations that have been enlarged to form a kind of altar.

Further west, old stone forts, standing stones, and other structures, were so numerous we almost stopped paying attention to them.

Ireland does not have the kind of rights-of-way that make walking in Britain so pleasant. For the Dingle Way, most of the route has to follow roads of some sort. Sometimes one must follow a main road, and share the road with other traffic. This can be hazardous when there is no verge.

More often the route uses quiet country roads. These can be delightful. Unfortunately, one lane roads with traffic can make walking difficult. Large pieces of farm equipment make life even harder for the walker.

Farm tracks can be ideal, if not too stony. Grassy trails are even better.

On the moors the path can be boggy or very rocky, sometimes both. In other words, technical.*

* Technical: Adj. "For experienced and very fit walkers with additional technical skills".
A handy term when trying to impress someone. It was used by a walker we met in a pub, for whom it meant anything tougher than a fire trail in a forest.

On every long walk we have taken, stiles are common obstacles. On this walk we encountered something new, stiles that came with instructions.

The Dingle Way is generally well signposted. The fact that it often overlaps other routes makes it even less likely one will miss a sign. For the first three days the route parallels the Kerry Camino, signs for which were usually easier to see than those for the Dingle Way.

Like the better-known Camino del Santiago, pilgrims following the Kerry Camino are expected to document their passage by signing in at stamping stations that we passed every now and then.

Only once did we encounter a real problem. We had to choose between an obvious farm track and a far-from-obvious, heavily overgrown trail. Arrows for the Dingle Way seemed to point in both directions. We took the road less travelled, which was correct.

It was a mile from our B & B in Tralee to the official start for the Dingle Way, in Town Park. In fact, we missed the start - our route was disrupted somewhat by a road race. It took us a few minutes to find our way out of the park. Not an auspicious beginning.

The next stop was to buy some lunch from a street vendor. We then found our way to a canal that led out of town.

We passed two young maidens enjoying a picnic on the grass. The morning was quite chilly; no-one else was as scantily clad. Activities more suitable to the weather were offered by a rowing club.

We stopped briefly to admire a swan and her cygnets. We were told there had originally been five youngsters, and that the father had become sick and died.

At the end of the canal is the suburb of Bennerville, best known for its windmill. Built in 1800, in ruins for most of the 20th century, it re-opened in 1990 and is still operating.

We took a steep hill out of the town. passing an equestrian center along the way. A very friendly dog wanted to join us. It took some time to persuade him to remain behind.

At the top of the hill we came to Slieve Mish Moor. We approached cameras at the ready. (Gordon's brace was a palliative for a recalcitrant knee joint )

The moor offered five or six miles of challenging terrain. We crossed a number of rivers. The first one of some significance did have a bridge, narrow, and without handrails. Neither of us fell in.

Later bridges did have handrails, although one had other problems.

The path became increasingly stony, the footing. increasingly tricky (technical!).

For some the route might not be tricky enough. For such individuals a bike trail, complete with an exciting jump, might be more challenging.

There were other points of interest along the trail. A lily pond, beside the foundations of a large building, suggested that farmers had once lived up here. And from time to time we came across interesting rock formations, not necessarily of archeological interest.

The ground became quite boggy, introducing new problems for the walker. A large rock that looked to Gordon like a crocodile was not in itself dangerous, and the grass may look soft and inviting, but both of use found ourselves sitting down unintentionally now and then.

There were more rivers to cross, a couple of them quite substantial. One thing to be said for the rivers though. They offer attractive rock patterns, and very pretty wildflower arrangements.

Before leaving the rocks and bogs of the moor, we saw a sign that seemed out of place, but which suggested the hardest part of the walk might be over.

We came to a section less wild, more pastoral than the moor had been. Wild flowers grew in the hedgerows. We crossed a stream with a small waterfall. Alan was intrigued by one or two yellow iris growing along the trail. Then he noticed an entire field full of them.

We came across the ruins of an old village, Killelton, which had once been a thriving community. The landowner had evicted everyone sometime in the 19th century. Killelton is now best known for an oratory or small church. It was built in the 10th or 11th century, but fell into disuse, and was overgrown until a few years ago. It has now been carefully restored. Next to the oratory is a prayer tree that seems to be used frequently.

Our B & B was in Camp Junction, a former railway town. Across from the B & B was the Railway Tavern. The tavern is known as a center for traditional Irish music, and we had seen videos of "jam sessions" that we would have loved to experience. The jam sessions, however, are on Sundays. This was Saturday. We still enjoyed it as a pub. The landlady was very friendly, even though she looked rather fierce (note the "Beware of Owner" sign, top left).

It had been a very hard day - more than we expected. Many people we spoke to told us that Day 1 is indeed the hardest. Watching a final sunset over Tralee Bay, we looked forward to the remaining six days.

After a good breakfast we set out on the second leg of our walk, one that was easier than yesterday's. It mostly followed country roads. We walked uphill past an old but recently painted farmhouse with attached farm buildings, then took a grassy trail down to the River Finglas.

Here was something a little different, a set of stepping stones over the river. As one concession to safety, the authorities had carved anti-slip notches in the stones. Once safely arrived on the other side, we could appreciate the charm of the setting.

Next came a long, steady uphill climb. We could see the Slieve Mish mountains we had encountered yesterday, still cloaked in mist. Looking back we could see Camp Junction and Tralee Bay.

As we reached the top of the hill we noticed a section of moor with some odd patterns - probably a former peat cutting area.

We left the road for a cart track, and had to deal with a kissing gate that had also been secured with a length of rope. A little further we came to a dismantled farm structure reverting to moorland.

To the west we had fine views over Knockbrack Moor. East we saw small farms nestled into the hills.

Now we were walking downhill past sheep farms, the fields separated by stone walls. A little further and we caught our first view of the south coast of the Dingle peninsula. We passed one field containing a pair of beautiful horses with flowing manes.

At the bottom of the hill we came to the small town of Inch. Across the road were fertilized fields that formed interesting patterns. The patterns reflect what is referred to in Yorkshire as "muck spreading".

We soon left the road for a farm track, and came across a rather different horse, a dray horse that seemed to be suffering from an injured eye.

As we climbed the hill we got a good view of Inch Strand, a beach just outside Inch. The cloudy, cool weather had not discouraged people from enjoying the beach.

As we came closer to Annascaul, we were passed by a cyclist wearing a camera attached to his helmet. Its purpose was not clear.

Just over the hill we came in sight of Lough Anscaul, a small lough in a beautiful setting. The names of the lough and the town may both be derived, in different ways, from "Átha-na-Scái", River of the Hero. We now had an easy downhill stroll into the town of Annascaul.

Next day we took the main street out of Annascaul towards Dingle. As had been the case each day so far, early morning mist lay on the mountains.

We had not gone far before passing the overgrown ruins of a house, a common sight between here and Dingle. Soon we passed a second abandoned house with an interesting ruin in the background, an intriguing combination of recent and old.

The ancient ruin turned out to be a highlight of the day's walk. We reached Minard beach, beautifully framed by cliffs and large pebbles. At the other end of the beach stood the remains of Minard Castle. The castle was blown up by Cromwell's army in 1650, and has remained in ruins since.

The clouds began to lift, affording views across the Bay of Dingle to the Ivereagh Peninsula on the other side.

We passed more abandoned farm buildings. Next door was a house that must have been quite elegant at one time. It had been left to the elements, and trees were taking over from the inside.

In the town of Lispole we passed one more ruin that had been taken over by ivy.

The route headed uphill and into the country. From the hill we could look out towards the town of Dingle. The muddy area to the left of the hill turned out to be the Trabeg Estuary, seen here where it runs into Dingle Bay.

We passed a small, circular grassy field that may at one time have been a fairy ring, and later preserved by superstitious locals. The terrain became very rocky. Here's a rocky field where the rocks have been used to create walls. Mixed in with the stones were some sheep. Can you spot them?

We crossed a small river, and began our descent into Dingle, with the Trabeg Estuary clearly visible. Behind us was an excellent view of whence we had come.

We passed a sheep sheltering for unknown reasons beside the ruins of a cart. A dirt road led to the town.

Dingle is a busy town with a substantial tourist business. The streets feature colorful buildings, and give a sense of relative prosperity - a contrast with what we had seen earlier.

Leaving Dingle the next day, we again enjoyed the multi-colored buildings fronting the harbour. On the other side of the road was a colorful house with a caged canary beside the front door (circled).

An important tourist attraction in Dingle is Fungie the dolphin, a fixture in Dingle Bay for over 30 years, and now celebrated with a statue of his own.

We crossed the bridge over a small river flowing into the bay, and headed into farm country. To the left we had a good view of Skellig Michael (the right-most island in the distance), a towering pinnacle west of the Ivereagh Peninsula.

We came then to a critical choice point. Today's walk was to be almost 15 miles, some of it quite difficult. One section could be bypassed, saving about a mile, including a significant hill. When we reached the choice point we met two women, mother and daughter from Canada, looking at maps and clearly having a discussion. They were contemplating the same option we had thought about. It's a little easier to take the easy route when other people are so inclined.

We encountered brief regrets when we came to the spot where the two routes converged. A woman pushing a baby stroller emerged from what would have been the tough route. Had she actually taken the route we had opted out of? We never did find out, but felt a little better when we were able to overtake her.

We were now in Ventry. We passed the school, where boys were playing football (soccer) - on a basketball court. We then arrived at Ventry beach, over a mile long, much of it deserted.

One end of the beach was rocky, with colorful patches of seaweed. It also provided good opportunities for shell collecting.

Although the weather was intermittently sunny, no-one was swimming. There was one brave person paddling.

A number of people were exercising their dogs. At one point we heard horses galloping behind us, and turned to see three horses racing. However, they had slowed to a canter by the time they reached us.

After leaving the beach we passed a farm where the farmer was shearing sheep. A little further we came to a roadside cafe where we stopped for our favorite lunch - a half pint of Guinness and a bag of crisps apiece.

Beside the cafe was a currach, a traditional Irish skin-covered boat of the kind that has been in use since the time of St. Brendan (5th century). We were now entering a part of Ireland that is rich in the artifacts of ancient history.

We left the main road and headed into the hills. Along the way we passed an intriguing wagon that seemed to be a repository for more recent artifacts. Then we began the long, steep climb up the side of Mount Eagle. It was hard work.

The weather was improving as the afternoon wore on. We had excellent views to the east, back towards Ventry Bay. Below us we could see the remains of an ancient fort, set on a cliff top overlooking the sea.

We also had fine views of the Blasket Islands, about which more later on. They are would be a dominant feature for the remainder of the day's walk.

At this point we were joined by the Canadian mother and daughter we had met yesterday. We came to the deep valley of the River of the Glen. The descent to the crossing point was quite tricky. From the other side of the river we saw another group of walkers working their way down.

At this point we noticed three standing stones above us on the side of Mount Eagle. Adding their own charm to the scenery were some photogenic sheep.

Below us we could see the Slea Head road, and more forts. And the Blasket Islands were coming closer.

We passed one more fort, and came to the end of the open moor. The spot was marked by a cairn (not of archeological interest, as far as we know), which had become a gathering place for walkers on the mountain side.

Views from this part of the Dingle Way are especially attractive. We had a fine view of the Blasket Islands and of Dunmore Head, a beautiful promontory. There are sheer cliffs descending from Dunmore. At the base is a farm, and below that two lovely small beaches.

Further along there is a different view of Dunmore and the Blaskets, of the Dunmore cliffs, and of the fields near Dunquin.

A trail led down to the coast road, which we followed the rest of the way to Dunquin. We had one more view of the coast, and arrived at our B & B.

It had been a magnificent day. That evening the landlord drove us to the nearby town of Ballyferriter for dinner. When we took a taxi back later in the evening, heavy clouds lay over the Blasket Islands. A change in the weather was coming.

We knew that the weather would not be good today. Nevertheless, after leaving the B & B we had a good view of the coast near Dunquin.

Some of the coastal scenery is quite dramatic, as implied perhaps by this warning sign. We did take appropriate care when near the cliff edge.

A road leading down to the harbour is known as the "Sheep Highway", so called because of a celebrated photo of sheep being driven up the road.

On the way out of Dunquin is the Blasket Center. You have seen the Blasket Islands in several photos from Day 4. The islands have a quite remarkable history, which is told in the Center.

The islands were inhabited for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, but the last residents were evacuated in 1953. Briefly, for many years many or most of the younger residents had evacuated, usually to America. By 1953 the population was not large enough to sustain itself.

Among other things, the center provides photos and biographies of the inhabitants. There is a model of the island village, and a sculpture representing the spirit of the islanders.

We spent an hour at the center, and could happily have spent longer, but a look out of the window made it clear that the rains were coming.

We climbed about a mile north from the Center towards the top of a rocky hill. Then the rain settled in.

Clogher Head is a scenic headland north of Dunquin, but the view from Clogher Head was not what we had hoped for. Clogher Strand, though, was still very pleasant.

A landmark in this section is a row of three hills known as the "Three Sisters". We had seen them the day before on the way to dinner. Today they were very hard to see in the rain and mist. In fact, as we approached they became even fainter.

Finally the visibility cleared a little, although we still had to deal with the fierce wind. Fortunately, it was from the south, and our route was generally north.

Shortly afterwards we arrived at Fearann Beach. At that point, however, we were walking south, into the wind, and feeling its full force.

Beach walking was not nearly as pleasant as it had been the day before in Ventry. When we left the beach to walk along the cliff top, the wind also made it hard to maintain balance.

We arrived at our B & B soaking wet. The kind landlady took our wet clothes (those we were willing to remove) and set them to dry. We changed into whatever dry clothing we had in our packs. For Gordon that amounted to a pair of briefs and a warm jacket, supplemented by a bath towel. Our overnight bags did not arrive for another 90 minutes (in fact, we received the bags belonging to our Canadian friends, who were staying 2 miles away). Gordon's sartorial splendor was a source of great mirth.

The next morning we feared the weather would not be much improved. It was going to be a very hard day - a steep climb over a mountain pass, and even steeper descent on the other side. The view of the mountain and the pass from our B & B was not encouraging.

Our landlord suggested an alternative: a somewhat lower pass to the south of Mount Brendan. Even better, he would drive us to the trail head at the foot of the pass. The photo shows the trail (a quiet country road), and the pass we needed to climb over.

The route lead through farmland, past a weathered old wagon beside the road. The road narrowed to a grassy trail as it climbed higher.

Our spirits cheered as the weather began to clear behind us. The climbing was hard at times on some rocky terrain. We progressed slowly, but the pass came closer, and eventually we reached the top.

From the pass there was a beautiful view of four small loughs, Duff (hidden below the ridge), Gal, Clogharee, and Atlea, in the Abha Mhór (Big River) valley. As we started down, a farm came into view at the bottom of the slope.

The descent was slow in places, but not too difficult, and we approached the farm. Along the way we passed a number of mountain streams, the streams swollen by the previous day's rain.

We assumed that the farm, beautifully set beside Lough Gal, must be occupied. At least one building was in use and there were sheep around. We were surprised to discover that most of the buildings had been abandoned, some of them a long time ago. Looking back at the pass from where we came, it became apparent that most of the farm buildings are just a shell.

The remainder of the day's walk was along a country road that led past the small loughs and a field showing evidence of peat cutting.

Further along the road we began to see Cloghane and its beach in the distance. The scenery was not dramatic, but we enjoyed a number of pastoral scenes, sheep grazing, among rocks, and wildflowers blooming in natural rock gardens.

Looking west, it appeared that the pass over Mount Brendan we were supposed to take was still socked in. We probably made a good choice.

We reached Cloghane, and stopped at O'Connor's Pub for a pint. The pub has one very unusual feature, the engine of a Luftwaffe plane that had crashed on the slopes of Mount Brendan during the war.

A plaque on the wall listed four planes, both Allied and Axis, that had crashed nearby. That evening we ate dinner at O'Connor's, and learned the stories behind these crashes. The landlord gave a talk explaining each crash, how it happened, and what became of the survivors.

There was one other unusual item in Cloghane: Along a fence, a line of old walking boots serving as flower pots.

It was almost another mile to our B & B, but a pleasant walk along the coast road, watching the tide going out.

Our final day of walking. The full distance for the day is 18 miles, but it is almost all flat, many miles of it consisting of beach walking.

We were joined at breakfast by our Canadian friends, and we spent much of the day walking with them.

It looked as if it might be another wet day. When the landlord at the B & B offered us a lift for the first few miles, we accepted. He dropped us off at Fermoyle beach, where we encountered two other walkers we had met the night before.

We formed a cheerful enough group to tackle the six miles or so of beach. Again, for the most part the wind was behind us, which helped a lot. At times the wind was enough to raise some impressive white caps on the water. A rocky island at the end of the bay did not look hospitable.

At one point a small river flowed into the sea, and crossing the river required some agility. Each couple crossed in whatever place and whatever way seemed easiest.

The rain was not constant, and there were stretches of very pleasant beach walking. When the wind dropped the walking was quite relaxing. On some occasions the party of six broke up and scattered in different directions.

After five or six miles of beach there was access to a road that leads directly to Castlegregory. We decided to take this final short cut, while the other members of our group continued further. We ended up on another beach on the east side of the narrow peninsula.

In the distance was our final goal, Castlegregory. A few miles on we were greeted by a welcoming committee, made up of recently sheared sheep.

Soon we were at Fitzgerald's Pub, where we treated ourselves to the traditional celebratory pint. After stretching it to a pint and a half (we've finished, after all), we headed for the B & B, where we could relax in front of a delightful warming fire.

Returning to Dublin the next day, all modes of transportation worked well for us. As we took a bus from the Dublin railway station to our motel, we passed the site of the Guinness brewery, a suitable symbol of our successful walk.

It should be apparent that road signs, shop names, etc., are frequently bilingual - Irish and English. The western half of the Dingle Peninsula is part of the Gaeltacht, a region where the Irish language is actively promoted. In fact, few people in Ireland speak Irish. Even in the Gaeltacht the percentage of Irish speakers is about 25%, and declining. We met a number of Irish speakers, but in every case people were comfortable speaking English.

The only significant impact on non-Irish speaking visitors was on the Ordnance Survey map for the area. Place names are given only in Irish. However, road signs and other key information in the Gaeltacht was always bilingual.

Here's a test for the reader who has made it this far: The name "Baile an Fheirtéaraigh" on the map refers to which town mentioned in this narrative? (Hint: End of Day 4)

Alan was born and attended school in Dublin. Although he claimed to remember little or nothing of the Irish he had learned, he astonished both of us when it began to return. That helped.

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