Here was the big day—our dalliance into Dingle Peninsula. Since her semester abraod, Jen has pronounced this her favorite part of her favorite place. We have been working up to this for at least the past 12 days here, probably a few decades longer for some of us.

We took in an early, light breakfast at our lodgings; we looked (warily) up at the mostly clear and sunny sky, and we headed off on the Slea Head Loop around the end of the peninsula.

For anyone expecting a rhapsodic description of the dramatic scenery, yes, that will come; but the main thing to say about the outer stretches of this peninsula is that the people here have figured out what visitors really need from Ireland: closer interactions with livestock.

Within the first half hour of our drive we had encountered four establishments offering hands-on exposure to sheep. This after seeing thousands of the beasts all over the country and not getting within arms length of the suspicious little devils. The Dingle-ites have cornered the market on lambs as far as the non-gustatory uses of them go.

So, when we pulled over for our first stop, which advertised a “fairy ring fort” (the remains of an ancient circular settlement still pocking the green hillside), we thought we were going to get a dribble of Irish hisotry. Except the entire hillside was populated by cuddly sheep, goats, alpacas, and horse that dearly wanted to be fed and petted. In a total reversal of roles, now the sheep were following us around.

It was like the island of approachable animals — the only animals that you couldn’t feed by hand were the two large lumbering pigs. Many furry friends were just wandering around in the fairy ring fort, not even fenced off from us. When it was time to wash hands after all the petting, a large ewe nudged me out of the way to get a drink from the faucet.

If you are like us, you are thinking that Zoe is sadly absent from this trip. Worry not. There was a sheep who, inexplicably, had “Zoe” spray painted in orange right on its wool. Our Zoe had a wooly proxy for the morning.

It was all very difficult to believe, but it seems to have actually happened. Digital pictures don’t lie.

Our second stop was, if possible, even better. We visited a hillside farm where we had booked an appointment online. The name of the operation — at least as we saw it on the internet — was “Hold Baby Lamb.” It was hard to resist the allure way back home in the planning stages, and the experience was true to its marketing. That is all we can ask for.

Hold Baby Lamb also featured several bee hive huts, advertised on a large poster with a Star Wars-flavored font (though at no point during our time at this stop did anyone claim these actual bee hive huts appeared in The Last Jedi or any other Star Wars movie). We could walk up the hillside and see them up close, and turn around to catch glorious views of the ocean and the near-lying Blasket Islands. The marquee view was inexplicably not even mentioned in any of the marketing materials.

That’s because the lambs are the main players here. Nadia and Lanie each got to feed a lamb with a bottle and pick the lamb up and carry it around for a while. We all were treated a little while later to a sheep dog display during which Dave the sheep dog efficiently guided a small flock around a field while the farmer communicated his commands in whistles and calls.

After this, we continued to drive until we fulfilled Jen’s wish of taking a scenic hike in the area. A stop at a hidden cove and beach also offered access to Dunmore Head at the very tip of the peninsula. Traversing this gave us and eye-popping view of Great Blasket Island — so close we could almost look in the windows of the five or six habitations out there. Just standing in the sloping, wind-blown field at the apex of Dunmore Head was an exciting experience.

I now feel inclined to rhapsodise about the view. The ocean is 30 to 100 meters below us, depending on where we are in the hike. Its waters reflect the (still miraculously) clear skies, ranges in color from a dark blue at it deepest points to an aquamarine near the beach or over rocks. It is a color we normally associate with tropical paradises. All along the coast, white foam courses over dark grey jagged rocks, sometimes shooting several meters into the air if the wave is big enough.

The few clouds in the sky add drama to the scene — there are dark ones that might be bringing rain to somewhere in the distance, but we are still in steady sunshine. We can see to the horizon; that view is only blocked by the deep green Blasket Islands and the grey outlines of other shapes in the distance (are they the Maharee Islands that we saw yesterday off Kerry Head?). There is only the narrow span of Dunmore Head behind us. The remainder of our perspective, perhaps 300 degrees, is water view. We could sit and stare at it for hours and ponder its depths and its constant changes.

But, we were getting a little hungry.

There are few conceivable situations where lunch could top this morning’s activities, but what if I told you we were able to take our meal at the Westernmost Bar in Europe?

I know! We thought we had already done that, too. During our trip to Achill Island we happily dined at Gielty’s Bar with its proud sign proclaiming this honor. But the details of the bragging rights, even in this day of global positioning systems, seem to depend on whom you’re talking to. So we left nothing to chance and ate at Krugers’ Bar all the way out on the end of the Dingle Peninsula. I would rate the fish and chips here at a dead even tie with the ones further north and (possibly) east at Gielty’s last week.

Of course, now we had a meal to work off, and the nearby Blasket Center offered not just a full-sized parking lot (a rarity in these parts) but also a five-kilometer loop trail that climbs into the hills and brings you back through sheep pastures along the craggy shore. It is on a list of Ireland’s national loop trails. Ireland, like ourselves, appreciates not always having to do out-and-back hikes.

Consider lunch worked off.

Having achieved so much already, we abandoned a portion of the Slea Head Loop, along with its predictably adequate roadway, for a cutoff road through the hills that got us back to Dingle town before the local aquarium closed. Nadia got a double wish today, lambs and sting rays to pet.

We even had time for a cocktail at our inn before heading to town for our second-to last dinner of the trip. This was the last normal dinner, and we opted for Italian. Tomorrow’s dinner — the last one of our trip — will be a banquet in a restored medieval castle.

There seem to be two schools of thought on how to drive the Ring of Kerry, a famous scenic driving loop around the Iveraugh Peninsula. The most popular advice is to drive the ring clockwise, to avoid getting stuck behind the large tour buses that ply the route daily. The other point of view is to drive counter-clockwise, to avoid having to cross paths with the large tour buses.

Having driven here for a couple of weeks, and after going through vehicular disasters #1 and #2, Bob and I would put ourselves firmly in the second camp. The hardest part of driving here isn’t being on the wrong side, or shifting a manual transmission with your left hand, or dealing with the constant roundabouts. Those things, you get used to. The hardest part is unequivocally the narrowness of the roads combined with the disorientation of being seated on the wrong side of the car. We are constantly cringing and holding our breath when we come across oncoming vehicles of any kind, and large buses and trucks are a particular nightmare.

Following a bus, on the other hand, is great. We are in no rush, so we don’t mind the slower pace — and at least we’re not the ones causing the large backup by going slower than the rest of the traffic. Better yet, the bus serves as a kind of defensive line — other oncoming traffic moves well out of the way, and we figure if the cars can fit past the bus, then it should be no problem for us. Getting stuck behind a bus or a truck is our idea of a great stroke of luck.

Unfortunately, we already did the Killarney to Kenmare section of the Ring, so we were stuck with a clockwise strategy. Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be too many buses in evidence — I think we got out early enough that the buses leaving from Killarney hadn’t made their way all the way back around to us. Our big morning challenge was figuring out how to pack up all our damp clothing from the day before. The air must have been quite humid, because it didn’t seem that anything had dried at all overnight — my socks from the previous day were still completely soaking. We made good use of the hotel’s hair dryers to ensure that we at least had dry shoes to wear, but also ended up packing up bags of damp clothing to deal with later. (It was unlucky that this was the one time that we only had a one-night stay so had to pack everything up the morning after arrival.)

The drive was beautiful — winding along the coastline with expansive views of the sea and the mountains. We stopped at a few different viewpoints just to marvel at the scenery. Our first real stop was Derrynane Beach, which was also beautiful — but by this point it had started to drizzle again. Given that we were rapidly running out of dry clothing, we elected to cut our visit short rather than risk getting drenched.

Our innkeeper host in Kenmare had told us to make sure to drive the Skellig Ring, even though it added a bit of time to the trip. This is an optional add-on to the Ring of Kerry that takes you out a bit further on the southern peninsula. (If you have good weather and plan ahead you can even take a boat ride out to Skellig Michael, a dramatic and historic island that was used for filming multiple Star Wars movies. Since the weather was uncertain and the tour takes 4-6 hours, we decided to skip it.).

The main destination on the Skellig Ring is the Kerry Cliffs, which are actually higher than the Cliffs of Moher (and far less visited). I had actually thought about cutting the Skellig Ring from our itinerary, given our driving difficulties, but I was so glad that I didn’t. The cliffs were amazing and the site’s owners had set up a series of viewing areas, each one more breathtaking than the last. We spent a fair amount of time wandering around here, taking dozens of photos or each new vista.

We made one more stop before arriving in Dingle Town — Inch Beach. This was a huge, wide beach which must mostly disappear at high tide, given that almost all the sand was hard-packed and damp. There was a large area where cars were parking right on the beach itself, but our innkeeper had warned us against this. “People get excited about driving on the beach, then they get stuck in the sand,” he’d said darkly. The last thing we needed was to get stuck in the sand, so we didn’t even consider driving onto the beach. Fortunately we found a spot in the nice paved parking lot. We’re especially missing Zoe when we visit all these beaches, as she would have liked nothing better than to go for a swim in the chilly waters.

We arrived at our inn in good time and saw that it was set on a hillside across the street from the water, with expansive sea views. (Throughout the Dingle Peninsula, the land rises sharply from the sea up to the mountainous interior, so you have gorgeous views almost anywhere you go.). We then spent a little time exploring Dingle Town, which, like everywhere we’ve been, was quaint, bustling, and immaculately well kept up. We ate an outdoor dinner near the dock, sampling some of the local beer and whisky. (Like Iceland, people make the most of outdoor spaces here, despite the chill.)

We’d had an early dinner (having eaten a large breakfast at our B&B and basically skipped lunch), so afterwards Bob, Lanie and I set out for a walk along the water. It was extra beautiful in the evening light, and we were able to wander along the cliffs and beaches until we reached the ruin of an old watchtower. The lovely scenery triumphed over our sore feet.

This was another tour and travel day, and it followed a pattern that we’re slowly beginning to recognize. A little too slowly.

Brilliant morning sun convinced us that we were in for a dry spectacular day, and several of us decided to wear non-fast-drying clothes. You probably know where this is going, but we were still — even after a week here — optimistic, and perhaps a little naive.

We packed up all our stuff, including the garments that would hold up well to getting soaked, and we set off for a nearby waterfall just on the outskirts of Killarney. Is this a true account or is it dramatic foreshadowing? It’s possible for it to be both.

We continued on towards Kenmare with a song in our hearts and several roadside scenic views in our path. Of course, the skies darkened and it started to rain a little, but it was not near enough to affect the driving or really obscure the views.

Then, at one point, we made a mistake — not tragic, but unfortunate. At one roadside attraction that was located at an intersection of roads, we chose to park on the wrong street facing the wrong direction. Perhaps we were lured this way by the proximity of the grazing sheep. They are quite persuasive, those sheep.

The problem lies here: When it was time to route to our next waypoint, which, I think was Kenmare itself, the computer wayfindng device took the direction we were facing into account. Perhaps it knows how narrow the roads were and thought it best to avoid telling us to turn around. Instead, it thought it best to let us go straight and then turn onto a six-kilometer country lane that looked like a normal road on the screen.

Even when we saw it, with its lack of a shoulder and even grass growing down the middle, we chose to trust the system. We were naive this morning, remember. The first kilometer passed without us seeing another motorist. Then, two appeared in the distance coming the opposite direction in close formation. The first pulled driver into a pre-set pull-off area well in advance of our approach. Good lad. The second car tried to follow, maybe? I might be giving that rat bastard a little too much credit here, but it’s likely there was not enough room for both cars to fit in the pull off.

There was no room for us to get past the second car. The thing to do would have been for us to back up, possibly a half kilometer or so, we’d been taking note of the pull-off, and it was a while since we last passed one. Instead we tried to utilize the grassy verge on our left side to squeak past. Remember, this was a road that bleeding Google Maps though we should be able to navigate.

The grassy verge turned out to be some tall grass covering a ditch, and we got stuck in the ditch. Our beleaguered front passenger side was down in the trough and the driver side rear tire was slightly off the ground. Just as when we found the parking space immediately fighting our blowout, though, we were very fortunate here, too. A third vehicle came just as the dust was settling and it was driven by a local farmer who cheerfully back up and retrieved his tractor. With this, he pulled us out of the ditch and had us on our way within 20 minutes of foundering ourselves.

He was good at it, too. He said this was definitely not the first time he’d have to pull a car out of a ditch. We gave him all our cash —$ 7 — and hopefully this bought him a pint this evening. He claimed to have done many of these extractions, and did not act like it was a big deal. Still, he appreciated the pint.

Back on the road, we turned ourselves around at the next intersection and carfully retraced our steps. It wasn’t even that long before we got to Kenmare — if we had only parked facing the different direction at our last scenic view stop, we would have cruised right into town..

As it was, it wasn’t even late enough to check into our room yet. We had a quick lunch and then found an adventure to pursue. About 25 minutes away there was a place where we could take a short boat ride to an island of well manicured gardens. We’ve had good luck with both islands and gardens this trip, so it all made sense.

At Glengarrif Harbor, we found the Harbor Queen, and she took us to Garnish Island. It was only a 10-minute boat ride and it took us past a seal colony. The island has been owned by the Republic since the 1950s, and it has been well maintained for tourism purposes. The person who had the gardens made bought the island from the government in the mid-1800s — it had previously been used as a military installation and there is still a tower/fort in the one corner that is not landscaped for artistic purposes.

Another cool fact is that the island (and the harbor landing) are in County Cork. We’re really piling on the counties.

It is a beautiful island, and it rained heavily for almost the whole time we were there. This was really the only big downpour we’ve seen here. Sure, it’s raining all the time, but this was really raining. We were intrepid explorers, though, and we became very wet.

A day later, and many of our things are still wet. One unfortunate coincidence is that we got the most wet on this trip on the day where we’re only staying one night in this location. That means we couldn’t lay our wet things out for long enough to get dry before having to pack up again. It’s a little smelly in the car.

But that’s not Kenmare’s fault. The town has even provided us with a four-minute walking path to connect the city center with the neighborhood where our inn is. We made it into town for dinner and then for an Irish Cream dessert in a pub where a local music session was going on.

Then we got rained on again as we walked home, doubling our supply of wet clothes.

We heard that from a LOT of people today.

We awoke to gray skies and a steady drizzle, the kind that you know isn’t just a passing shower. Apparently Killarney has had six weeks of sunshine — which abruptly came to an end the day of our arrival. We would need to adjust our plans a bit.

But first, we had to say a sad goodbye to Zoe. The rest of us are here for five more days but she flew back today to get back to work. We had to drive her into town to catch a 7:30am bus. We should have had plenty of time, as the bus stop was only five minutes away, but Google Maps made the unaccountable decision to send us on a different, 15-minute route, so we pulled in with only two minutes to spare. Luckily the rest of Zoe’s airport travel (bus to Limerick, short walk to a different bus station, then another bus to Shannon) went smoothly and she made it home without incident.

As for her sisters, they showed no great inclination to get out of bed. Given the weather, we didn’t really rush them. (Things are very luxurious at this Airbnb — we have three bedrooms and three bathrooms! The girls definitely enjoyed having their own private space for a bit.) After a bit of research, we decided to book a two-hour “jaunting car” ride — a horse-drawn carriage that would allow us to see some of the local sights in comfort — and more importantly, under a rain cover.

This was a very popular excursion with the girls, who have stopped to bond with every horse they’ve passed. Bob and I enjoyed chatting with the driver, an older man who’s lived in Killarney all his life. He was an entertaining character, and clearly attached to his horse, Ruby. He told us that every night, Ruby (and apparently all 60 horses owned by the Killarney Jaunting Car company) gets a bottle of Guinness mixed in with her feed. “She loves it! Can’t get enough!” When Ruby wasn’t going as fast as he liked, he would threaten her with the loss of Guinness privileges, which was apparently the worst threat he could muster. He himself, he told us, visits Murphy’s Bar each evening for four pints of Guinness. “Never three, never five — always four. Never miss a night.” He seemed a pretty spry guy, so apparently this system is working out for him. (He assured us that neither he nor the horse ever enjoys their Guinness while on duty.)

After a short journey in the city center (where cars have to yield to horses), we headed into the carriage roads of Killarney National Park. It was very pleasant rolling through the woods and along the lake, warm under blankets and dry from the rain. Eventually we reached Muckross House, a beautiful 19th century mansion set on the shores of one of the park’s three lakes. We made a half hour stop here to explore the gardens and grounds, and in a stroke of rare luck, the rain stopped just as we arrived (and started up again once we got back in the cart).

On the way back, our driver treated us to another stop at Muckross Abbey, the ruins of a 15th century Franciscan friary. It was lovely and fascinating. A huge, ancient yew tree — presumably as old as the friary itself — rises up straight in the center of the cloister. Around the outside is a cemetery with a mixture of old and semi-modern graves. It was an excellent place to wander for a bit — and again, the rain abated just as we arrived.

In the afternoon the rain had retreated to the degree that we felt brave enough to take on a hike that I’d really been looking forward to — the Gap of Dunloe, a narrow road leading through a mountain pass. It’s a road rather than a trail, but most vehicles are restricted from entry, so it’s mostly pedestrians, jaunting cars, and the occasional bike. The whole thing is over 7 miles long (and there’s not really a way to get back without retracing your steps or booking a combo boat/bus trip), so we contented ourselves with walking just the first stretch.

It was well worth the trip. The scenery was breathtaking and there were lots of sheep, cows, and off-duty horses for the girls to bond with along the way. It was hard to turn around — the path forward looked so inviting and it kept tempting us to see what was beyond the next corner. But we had a deadline for our next activity — an escape room we’d booked for 6pm. (The two Killarney escape rooms were almost totally booked for the whole day, presumably because of the rain, so we were lucky to get a spot at all.)

We were able to succeed at Vampires Among Us in good time, despite missing one of our family members. Probably if Zoe was around, we wouldn’t have had to ask for that hint.

We had one last stop to squeeze in before dinner — a quick stop to explore Ross Castle, which sits right outside of town. It’s a 15th century tower house which, like everything else here, is in an absolutely gorgeous setting on the shores of Lough Leane, one of the Killarney’s three lakes. Ross Castle, Muckross House, and Killarney National Park are all stops along the Ring of Kerry, the rest of which we’ll be driving later in the week.

Like our driver, we were also planning to head to Murphy’s that night — it had been recommended by our Airbnb host, Owen. We were hoping for some live music but it turned out to not start until 9:30 pm, which was a bit later than we had the energy for. We still enjoyed some pints and an excellent dinner before heading back to Owen’s. (We were hoping to see our driver and confirm whether he really did have four pints of Guinness, but our timing must have been off.)

Yesterday’s return trip from the Aran Islands not only gave us a wonderful perspective of the Cliffs of Moher, the boat ride also give us a preview of the landscape we would soon be driving through, the unique rocky terrain of the Burren in County Clare. This section of the coast is where Ireland goes from green to gray. Its limestone hills remain largely uncovered by vegetation — it is as clearly visible from the ferry as the cliffs were. Up close, the landscape is supposed to be suggestive of walking on the moon.

But, we wouldn’t get to see it too closely. We would drive through the Burren, but not stop for any appreciable time. Today’s time has been doled out in such a way that there would be a fair bit of driving to get us to Killarney with little time for stops in Clare.

Economics factored into our planning: We selected our major stop of the day based on the fact that it would provide us with three separate and varied experiences. How separate and varied? Here’s what the Aillwee Burren Experience offered:

1. Cheese tasting (the cheese is made right there on site)
2. Bird/raptor education and entertainment show
3. Guided tour of the Aillwee Cave

That’s not a bad list of options, and none of them disappointed. Though, one might expect there to be a greater presence of sheep milk cheese in the line up of locally made cheeses. The farm shop here did sell sheep cheese, but it was not included in the tasting, and we played it safe by getting two of the standard cows’ milk cheeses, which were pleasant to eat with a Gouda-adjacent flavor. We had some with crackers for lunch.

The bird show was unexpectedly interactive, with kites flying inches above the audiences’ heads, and caracara birds hopping around in the stands browsing among our feet. Selected audience members got picked to put on a glove and hold the birds (the lineup also included a snow-white barn owl), but none of us got selected, even though someone else in our section of the stands go called on the hold birds twice.

The last part of the trinity was a standard caving tour experience, and as such was reminiscent of earlier family trips when we were going into caves practically every other day.

There was a chance for a fourth adventure here. Above the cave complex rose the rocky landscape of the Burren. The Aillwee cave is actually inside one of the rocky hills. A trail led off between the bushes of the lower level and onto the limestone striations above, but we knew we had a long drive and we didn’t feel like we had the time to wander around too much. Unfortunately, the Burren was not ours to explore.

One of the reasons we were eager to be on the road was because our inkeeper in Killarney seemed to be an interesting character. He texted Jen a few days ago to let her know that he was baking us a loaf of bread. This is fairly singular in our experience with inkeepers. We texted him this afternoon to ask about a restaurant that we might make a reservation at (we’ve recently had trouble getting into places amid the crush of the Galway Races crowds, so we wanted to be careful). Our man was on the job.

So we set off from three-pronged adventure park (I do consider cheese tasking an adventure — a culinary adventure), and drove through that mysterious landscape.

Until we couldn’t drive any more because we had developed a flat tire. This situation seemed somewhat dire — we were rather in the middle of nowhere (not a lot of cities, or even houses on the lunar Burren landscape), and there was not flat tire in our boot. Cars just don’t have them anymore.

There was a substantial good fortune involved as well, though. The blowout happened only a few meters from an expansive parking area for a section of the Burren National Park. Several people were parked there and offered us help — though none of them had a tire or even a spare to lend. Jen called the roadside assistance number that rental car company offered and we waited.

Hey, here was our chance to explore the Burren! It’s pretty rocky!

This episode ended up taking several hours to remedy (even though Jen told the assistance person on the phone that we had no spare and our current tire was likely unusable, they sent someone out in a van to confirm those two points — there’s two hours waiting right there), but we eventually got back on the road. We texted our inkeeper to let him know that we no longer needed the reservations, as there was no longer any chance that we would reach Killarney during dinner hours. We actually had to be quite direct in our driving to make it there at a reasonable hour at all. The innkeeper had noted that he would need to show us around the place when we got there, and we didn’t want to keep him awake any longer than necessary.

We ended up getting food for a snack/dinner at a convenience store, and we were surprisingly happy about it. We’ve been eating in a lot of restaurants lately; convenience store food was a rare treat. It was right around 11:15pm when we finally rolled into Killarney.

Note from Jen: Bob is being very kind here by not mentioning that the flat tire was likely caused by me hitting a rock or something while veering off onto the shoulder of the road, when an oncoming car came zipping around a hairpin turn very close to, or maybe over, the center line. The roads here are quite narrow and it’s hard to avoid the impulse to veer too far to the left, given that the bulk of the car is on the opposite side than what you’re used to.

Today we were up and at ‘em earlier than usual, as we had a boat to catch. After a 40-minute walk into the seaport area of Galway, we boarded the Aran Island Ferry to travel to Inis Mór, the largest of the Aran Islands off the coast. These are known for their ancient sites and more traditional Irish way of life. Gaelic is still the primary language here, and we overheard plenty of snippets of it when the locals were talking amongst themselves.

Once on the ferry, I had some moments of doubt about the wisdom of this plan. The ferry company’s website is rather cagey about how long the trip takes, and we discovered it was going to be 90 minutes out and up to three hours on the way back (because of a side trip to the Cliffs of Moher). Once we got out of the harbor, the ride got pretty choppy, and between the wind and the rain it was freezing cold. Despite this we were sitting outside on the top of the boat, because we felt that would be the best way to avoid seasickness. (This plan mostly succeeded, though Nadia was a little unhappy. Miraculously, I managed to avoid nausea despite normally being very susceptible. I think we made the right choice because when I went downstairs to the bathroom, the pitching of the boat seemed much worse from within the stuffy cabin, and I saw multiple people being sick. Those of us up on deck all managed to hold on to our breakfasts.)

So anyway, there we were, cold and damp and a little queasy, wondering what on earth we’d let ourselves in for. As we approached the island, we came into a cloud and it suddenly began to downpour. All those on deck raced for cover, but we didn’t really make it. Fortunately the downpour was short-lived, and as we docked on the island the rain abated and we even saw a little sun.

We picked up our rental bikes and set off down the road and immediately our troubles were forgotten. It was so lovely biking down the narrow road, blue sky now above us, old stone walls and rolling hills on all sides and the blue-green ocean sparkling below. There’s not a lot of car traffic on the roads here (though quite a lot of bikes and the occasional horse and buggy), so biking is the perfect way to get around. A stop for some hot drinks (and observing the nearby seal colony) completed the restoration of spirits.

Our eventual destination was Dún Aonghasa, an ancient fort (going back to 1100 BC) built in an absolutely stunning setting at the edge of the island’s 330 foot cliffs. We parked our bikes and walked the last section uphill, then couldn’t stop taking pictures of the beauty all around. I traveled here once before, when I studied abroad in 1993. My friend Julie and I took a weekend trip to Galway and visited this island, and I have a photo of myself standing at the edge of the tall cliff, which we attempted to replicate. I seem to remember (possibly inaccurately) that last time I was here it was raining and we were the only ones there. This time we were abundantly grateful for clear skies and have learned to soak up the sun whenever we can get it.

After some lunch and a little shopping — there is a little cluster of buildings near the entrance to the fort with food stands and an Aran sweater outlet, where Lanie bought herself one of the lovely sweaters she’d been eyeing — we got back on the bikes. A short way back we’d passed a beautiful beach, and we’d promised Zoe a stop on the way back. (She carries her bathing suit with her everywhere, and has yet to miss an opportunity to swim, regardless of the weather.) The water was an amazing shade of brilliant aquamarine that made us think we were in the Caribbean, but the water temperature most definitely did not. Nevertheless Zoe plunged in, and probably would have stayed much longer if we didn’t have to pull her out for fear of missing the boat back.

We were not really looking forward to the long boat ride back, but from the start, it somehow had a more pleasant feel (at least to me). It was probably something to do with the sunshine and somewhat warmer temperatures, but there also seemed to be more to look at. The trip back had us passing by the other two Aran Islands, which were lovely to view from the water. Better yet, as we were passing the smallest island, the boat captain announced that it was the setting for Craggy Island in the opening credits of the old Irish TV show “Father Ted”. I was introduced to Father Ted — a hilarious comedy about rogue priests exiled to a remote island — many years ago by my Aunt Kath, and Bob and I have long been big fans. Seeing Craggy Island in person was an unexpected treat.

A little while later we were starting to approach the other side, so Zoe and I got up to station ourselves at the starboard rail in preparation for the Cliffs of Moher siting. It took a while to get there but we enjoyed standing up in the fresh air and watching the rolling seas. Eventually Bob and Lanie joined us. (Nadia, most prone to motion sickness among us, was sticking with her seat.) We hadn’t really thought a great deal about this portion of the trip — it was just kind of a nice extra thrown in on the Aran Islands journey — but it was truly amazing. The boat traveled the whole length of the cliffs, fairly close to land, and the views were spectacular. (So spectacular, in fact, that we decided not to bother visiting from the land side, which we had previously planned to do the following day.). We saw the place where the cave scene was filmed in Harry Potter 6, and the site of the “Cliffs of Insanity” from The Princess Bride. Zoe said this might have been her favorite part of the entire trip. The remaining sail back to Galway was uneventful and we even arrived half an hour earlier than scheduled.

We’ve been having some trouble getting into restaurants here — everywhere we’ve been, there have been crowds of people and we’ve often gotten turned away. So, especially with this being a Friday night, we’ve learned our lesson and made a reservation (or as they call them here a “booking”), at a Persian restaurant. (We didn’t learn our lesson all that well, because we made the reservation rather late in the day and consequently had very few choices.) The restaurant was excellent, however, and we were glad we’d made the booking when we saw all the fancily-dressed young people out celebrating the Galway Races. Too tired for the pubs tonight, we made the long trek home after dinner. (It was not actually that early, but it felt like it was — it stays light here until 10pm or so.)

This would have been a good day to get an early start. Our fourth-floor balcony showed blue skies out above the aquarium (which is immediately beneath our balcony), Galway City (which is off to the left, a little in the distance), and Galway Bay (which makes up most of the rest of our view). I could study a lot about the lay of the land from the balcony, but we could not really get into it until we had a quorum of people who were awake and ready. And yesterday we did climb a huge mountain, so everyone feels like they have the right to sleep in today.

The early morning hours hint at a remarkably favorable weather day — it’s even hot on the balcony from the direct sunlight at 7:30 — but we cannot take this sort of thing for granted. Sure enough, by the time four of us are ready to go out and explore, clouds are slowly starting to gather.

Fortunately, we are steps away from the Salthill Promenade, which stretches for miles along the shore of the bay, and we are able to pick out some a few must-do activities as we explore. Here’s a truth about Galway, though, if you don’t plan your time wisely, you’re not going to be able to do all the things you want to.

And we’ve already gotten off to a late start!

Stop 1 (as soon as all five of us are ready). The aquarium, which is very few steps from the door of our building. It is also a nice way to spend an hour or so. Interesting fish and such.

Stop 2. The downtown, which is well-visible from our balcony and only a 20-minute walk from the aquarium. The downtown that we find is bigger than Westport and Sligo, more tourist friendly than Limerick. There is an intricate canal/river system that meets the bay right about where we enter the city. A multi-colored row of houses lines one edge. A very festive pedestrian way branches off in the opposite direction. Which way will we go? We’ll do both, of course. Walking around cities is one of the things we do best, and Galway is a great place to walk around. We even sat outside a pub with some snacks and drinks and watched as most of the city seemed to pass us by.

This happens to be the time of the Galway Races Summer Festival, which is a week-long event where the fun includes, but is not limited to, horse racing and betting. Today was “Most Stylish” Day, or perhaps “Ladies’ Day.” There were many well-dressed people walking around either on their way to or after having visited the race track. It was rather like prom night, but on a larger scale given that it was people of all ages dressed up.

Step 3. The mysterious island at the end of a long causeway into the bay. We could see the causeway this morning from our balcony. It might be the only slight disappointment that Galway had for us today. The mysterious island at the end of the causeway is a water treatment plant.

Stop 4. We’ve never done an escape room on a boat before. What’s that like? It’s pretty cool, though we can’t share too much about it because someone reading this might want to try it for themselves some day. I can say that there are a lot of cool props in this one, including an entire tank — on a boat! Is that giving away too much? I don’t think so. We got a certificate for finishing in such good time. I don’t think they give those to just anyone.

Stop 4. Dinner. We got Italian, and wasn’t the restaurant filled with dressed up people — mostly groups of young women in all styles of dresses. As the evening progresses, there is ever more style on the streets. We’re practically getting run over by style by the time we’re walking back to Salt Hill.

Step 5. Jump in the water off a large tower. We found the Blackrock Diving Tower during our morning walk, but Zoe and Lanie had to wait all day for the tide to come in. It did not look like a good idea at low tide. Of course, the sun was mostly a memory by the time we came back this evening, so it didn’t look like a good idea to jump now for a totally different reason. But this reason did not stop them.

This morning we set off from Westport into the wilds of Connemara, a region of western Ireland strewn liberally with mountains, lakes, waterfalls, and dramatic coastline. Our ultimate destination is Galway, but we’re taking the scenic route to get there. Prior to getting in the car, we had to fortify ourselves with a visit to the town’s tea house, which the girls had been eyeing the day before. It proved to be an excellent breakfast spot and a wonderful bakery (so that some members of the party purchased breakfast desserts for themselves).

Our first stop was Kylemore Abbey, a beautifully maintained manor house sitting on the edge of a lake in the most stunning setting imaginable. In addition to the house itself, there’s a 6-acre walled Victorian garden and lovely grounds surrounding it. We started our visit at the paddock, to meet the resident Connemara ponies during feeding time. (This may have been Nadia’s favorite part of the day.) Interestingly, the gardens were about 1.5 kilometers from the house, but it was a very pleasant walk through woodlands and along the lake. The ponies did not disappoint, and the gardens were amazing — a mixture of very manicured English garden, woodland walks featuring more natural landscapes like ferns, and kitchen gardens that grow produce for the complex.

The house itself was almost a mini-museum, covering the history of the place from its construction through to the present day. It began its life as an aristocratic home, but eventually transitioned to being a Benedictine abbey. Nuns still live here today. It also served as a school until remarkably recently — the doors closed in 2010. We were all trying to imagine what it would be like getting to live here. On our way out we had some snacks at the excellent cafeteria. (We’ve found that all the tourist attractions here actually seem to have good quality restaurants, unlike what you’d find at home.)

Our next stop was only 15 minute away — a welcome respite for Nadia, who has been getting motion sickness amidst all the winding narrow lanes. Connemara National Park isn’t on the scale that you’d see for a US national park — there’s just one parking lot and a few trails — but it gets no complaints from us. We hiked a 6.5 km loop up a mountain that we’d been able to see towering above the Abbey (they all it “Diamond Hill” here but having climbed it, I definitely feel that it is a mountain). The hike was a challenging one — the last couple kilometers, in particular, were extremely vertical — but the views throughout were amazing. There’s not a lot of forest here, so we were able to see the spectacular scenery throughout our ascent. When we eventually reached the top (after several false summits), we had 360 degree views around the landscape, from the rolling hills in one direction to the rugged coastline in the other. Those of us who are regular hikers immediately moved it into our top 5 lists.

It only remained for us to make our way down to Galway. I’d read about taking the “Sky Road” for its beautiful scenery, so we set off in that direction — which likely proved to be a mistake. The scenery was indeed striking, but the narrow two-way road required us to stressfully squeak by other cars with centimeters to spare, and occasionally back up down the lane in order to find a slightly wider area. Bob got stuck driving this leg and was in no mood to appreciate the scenery; nor was Nadia, with her motion sickness. Fortunately we soon emerged back on the main road.

We made one last stop at the seaside village of An Spidéal for dinner, close to Galway. I’d read about this as a worthwhile spot to visit, but we didn’t find a whole lot there. Zoe would have happily gone for another swim at the beach, but with the general mood we decided to stick with just dinner.

It was a good thing too, as our arrival in Galway was a bit stressful. We’re staying at a lovely apartment right on Galway Bay in the little town of Salthill. We had some struggles with finding the parking area (counterpoint: when we eventually did find it, it proved to be both very convenient and free), with locating the building (for some reason we were only provided with the street name, not a number — fortunately the photo of the outside saved us), and with getting into the apartment (with no instructions provided on where the key would be). But eventually we overcame these hurdles and settled in to appreciate our expansive ocean views.

Today, while most of County Mayo slept off its second day of championship hangovers, we set out to maximize our remaining time here in this lovely and inviting section of the country. Our itinerary took us to the island of Achill, whose windy roads constitute some of the best views along all of the Wild Atlantic Way, particularly when it’s not raining and fogged in.

It did rain today, though, so we had to settle for more dramatic mist and speculation for much of the drive. During periodic breaks in the weather, though, we could see quite well, and we made several stops at pull-offs to explore seaside fields, peer over cliffs, and converse with roadside sheep.

This is all leading up to two big Achill Island finales.

The first, rather breathtaking one was the beach at Keem, declared by some to be the most beautiful in the world. We didn’t even catch it on its best day — the lifeguard hut’s whiteboard posted the water temperature at 14 degrees C — and it was still a stunning place to visit. The approach, via a cliff-hugging access road that seemed to be an engineering marvel in the same way that bungee jumping seems to be a good way to see the underside of a bridge, definitely added a sense of adventure.

The fact that sheep were grazing mere feet from the beach reminded us it was Ireland, but the stretch of sand leading to teal-colored water in a protected cove suggested more tropical climes. There was also the advertised prospect of seeing a basking shark, a species that frequents the waters here, or some dolphins. Of course, there was the mist and the water temperature reminding us where we actually were. How cold is 14 degrees C? Google translates it to 57 degrees F. Zoe, who decided this was another good swimming opportunity, said, “It’s very cold.” For reasons unexplained, she decided not to use the sauna located in the parking lot to recover from her dip.

She recovered in her own way, and was back in her regular clothes for the trip back up the cliffside as we back-tracked to Achill Island finale number two, Gielty’s Pub, the westernmost bar in Europe. If we missed this and just kept driving, we wouldn’t have found a bar until Greenland. How can one beat that for adventure and excitement? Before you answer, I’ll tell you that their cod and chips, with the cod fried in a seaweed tempura and possibly scooped out of the waters across the street minutes before we arrived, was the best meal I’ve had in Ireland so far.

We were wet and maybe a little cold — even those of us who had not gone swimming, but we were also pretty happy with the trip. Plus, after the pub adventure, there was one more post-finale stop. A few miles back towards civilization is Slievemore, or at least the remains of it. Slievemore had been a sizable village a few centuries ago, but it was ravaged by in the mid-1800s by the Great Famine, and it was deserted completely by the early 1900s. Many walls still exist and sheep keeps pathways nibbled clear. We spent a good 45 minutes there and might have lasted longer had the rain let up. (The village was on a hillside and small streams seem to have taken over many of the walkways, so our feet were pretty wet by the time we had hiked up to the site.)

This constituted a full day for us, and, anyway, after lunch we were not even interested in taking a meal in any establishment wasn’t superlative in some manner or form. So Jen and Zoe ran out for a few pizzas and they came back with an array of ciders to sample. We hooked into the tv’s streaming menu, and were happy to find we could watch The Sheep Detectives using our amazon passwords.

Today it was time to say farewell to Sligo and start heading back south. Our next stop is Westport, an extremely charming city near the coast in County Mayo. We got out of our hotel at the semi-reasonable time of 9:45, and were pleased to discover that our luggage fitted marginally better into our marginally larger rental car. Alas, the weather was still cool and rainy.

Our Airbnb in Westport is in the heart of the city, amidst picture book Irish pubs, shops, and restaurants. Also amidst much traffic. Bob did a valiant job steering us through the narrow one-way streets until we found the parking lot near our apartment and snagged the last possible space. (People park creatively here. There were cars in every possible place, including up on the stones surrounding a central statue. In order to get into our space, Bob had to ease past another car parked on the curb just in front of it.)

We set out to explore the town a bit, enjoying the abundant petunia displays and the quaint shops. Plan A for today was to rent bikes and set out along the Great Western Greenway, a renowned bike path running along the coast and part of Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Way. Plan B was to climb nearby Croagh Patrick. Plan C was to rent kayaks on the bay. Unfortunately, the cold and rain made all of these somewhat unappealing. We went with Plan D, which was visiting nearby Westport House. This is a historic estate originally owned by the Grace O’Malley, the Pirate Queen of Connacht. It was only a 1 km walk away, mostly through a park that surrounds it. Unfortunately upon arrival we found that the house is closed for renovations, so Plan D was also thwarted. But we were still able to take a long walk around the estate, through lovely woodlands and along the lake and rivers, so it was still a worthwhile trip.

Plan E (which would have been Plan A for Nadia all along) never fails us — we found a local escape room. The rain finally relented so we were able to stay dry during the half hour walk. (Once our car is safely parked, especially in a place like busy downtown Westport, we are very reluctant to move it again.). The room was very fun and the proprietor Karolina was so kind and welcoming (like many people we’ve met here). We managed to escape in 31 minutes, thus earning our family a spot on the 2026 leaderboard. And astonishingly, since we escaped in roughly half the time, Karolina only charged us half price! Never had that happen before.

For dinner Nadia had her eye on a Thai place in town, and it did not disappoint. Despite Ireland’s not exactly having a reputation as a food mecca, we’ve had excellent meals here all along — both more traditional (fish and chips, Irish beef, etc.) and non (Korean and Thai). The restaurants have been packed, too — for this one, we had to leave our names at 6:30 and return at 7:30.

One thing we learned when we arrived in Ireland was that the Gaelic football finals were being held on that Sunday, Mayo vs. Kerry. And Mayo emerged victorious, for the first time in 75 years. As we drove to Westport (in the heart of Mayo), there were green and red flags and signs everywhere, and about 50% of the populace were wearing green and red jerseys. Even though it was now Monday, the following day, the celebrations weren’t over. As we had dinner and walked around the town, fans were streaming in. We’d planned to go to a pub for some Irish music, but it took us a while to find one that had any space at all. Eventually we were able to squeeze in and have some pints at a place that was playing the Saw Doctors on the stereo, which made Bob very happy.

The fans outside set up an impromptu parade ,with cars driving by bearing Mayo flags and hanging out the windows to cheer. By the time we left the pub, the streets were filled with revelers, drinking and singing. It was quite a scene. Our apartment is set a bit removed from the main street (in an interesting warren of apartments called The Kiln), so luckily it wasn’t too noisy — but Bob and I did hear occasional snatches of chants and songs well into the night. It was reminiscent of the time when we coincidentally ended up in Paris on the night that France won the World Cup.