Visiting Dingle: Return o’ the Rains

“Ah, how a new storm foils me fondly.” – Old Sean

A Cycling Journey

After spending a couple of days exploring Killarney and the very edge of the Ring of Kerry, I made plans to push onwards to another location.

My next plan was to rent a bike and pedal west, visiting Dingle and viewing the Dingle Peninsula along the way.

While Dingle is several towns over, Ireland is tiny. The trip, according to maps, would only take around four hours or so.

Additionally, since Ireland had been rainless and locked in a heat wave since my arrival, this was a good time to make the attempt. The skies had been filled with puffy white clouds and little else.

So I picked up my rental bike, shouldered my backpack and began to ride. And naturally, as I went, the rain of the wet, green isle returned. I peddled into a steady, heckling drizzle.

A First Day Pedaling

At first, the rain was only a minors hinderance. I had my poncho on and my backpack was waterproofed. I knew that my extra weight would be slowing me down considerably, so I found a steady, comfortable pace and maintained it. The majority of the ride to Dingle from Killarney is downhill, making things easier.

Ireland doesn’t have any bike lane and the roads are fairly narrow, so I spent most of my time following back-country roads since the idea of highways made me nervous.

I stopped for lunch at a restaurant called The Phoenix in Shanahill East. This turned out to be an excellent little eatery with a fairy garden and shiny platters filled with teas and coffee. I made good friends with a dog named Rufus while I was there, who snoozed on my feet while I ate.

After lunch, however, I needed to slow down somewhat. Rain was coming down a bit more forcefully, and my speed floundered. Despite this, my ride was beautiful.

I chatted with motorcyclists along Inch Beach, watching the waves nestling into the sands. I listened to the thundering songs of tides over cliffs around the Castlemaine Harbour Nature Reserve. When steering close to the rocky foothills, I cheered on sheepdogs during their tryouts. I mooed at cows I passed and bleated at sheep. When pedaling uphill slopes, I hummed fortifying tunes and laughed madly when flying downhill. On the rare occassions where the ground was level, I made (mentally healthy) train noises.

A Countryside Pause

As the rain continued to intensify, I decided to rest for the day, stopping at a hostel called Paddy’s Palace in the small town of Annascaul. The night was rather calm, with only a few other guests around. We watched the rain while I left my clothes out to dry, chatting calmly about the usual interesting meandering nonsense strangers are good at listening to.

By the following morning, the rain hadn’t abated. I readied myself again and pushed on to Dingle.

For the rest of the entire route, there was water. I smacked into it, half-formed in low, mountain-kissing clouds. I breathed in flecks of liquid on uphill slopes. And I pressed against sturdy, moss-covered walls during the worst of the torrents. 

By the time I finally rolled into Dingle in the morning on my second day, I was dripping and bedraggled. The heat wave had broken and Ireland’s rains had returned with a vengance.

Visiting Dingle

Despite my sogginess, I my time spent visiting Dingle was extremely pleasant. Heading into town, I veered off the main road to visit the Ardamore Standing Stone, where enormous rocks towered over a low, rugged patch of grass. I stopped again to see the white walls of the Dingle Lighthouse, though the clouds over the bay prevented me from seeing any panoramic views.

In town itself, I passed by tiny, brightly colored buildings following the shoreline with a pair of long, cement piers wandering out into the Dingle Harbour. Shaking off water, I warmed up with soup and hot chocolate at My Boy Blue. I then ruined the mildly healthy effect by eating Murphy’s Ice Cream (but regretting nothing, of course). 

A Soggy Step Back

My original plan had been to push on to Tralee by bike. The idea was sound, since the route only would have taken a day or so. Even accounting for hills, the trip from Killarney to Dingle is only four hours or so. Tralee is only another four hours away, following the northern portion of the peninsula.

However, I was decidedly sodden enough. The rain had forced me to stop several times, and my four hour journeys were slowing into seven hours of pedaling, sheltering, drying and resting. I decided to forgo pedaling to Tralee.

Instead, I caught a bus to Tralee, where I dropped off my rental bike. I settled into the bus seat for the next hour, timing how long it took for my wrinkled, pruney fingers to return to vaguely human textures. (Twenty three minutes).

Onward to Ennis

Sadly, after I dropped off my bike rental, I didn’t see the point in staying in Tralee. I was still tired and I didn’t feel like exploring. I decided instead to push onwards to Ennis.

For now, I’m on a bus, grateful my laptop and other gear avoided any water damage. I’m entering my final lap in the Republic of Ireland, with only Ennis and Galway left.

So until then,

Best regards and excellent trails,

Old Sean

Written July 15th, 2018

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