The Ups and Downs of Dingle to West Cork
Good afternoon all! Hope this finds you well and not too battered by whatever storm or hurricane might be around you. I'm at a bus stop in Bandon, West Cork, waiting for a connection so now seems a good moment to update. I'm shattered, and it's very grey, and I don't feel like walking around, even though I've never been here before, but I'm not tired of Ireland. It always struck me as a little bit trite that quote, 'If you're tired of London, you're tired of life' If you're tired of somewhere or something you like, very often you're actually just tired, and you need a rest.
So my last post left off on my arrival in Dingle, energised by the sea air. And it didn't disappoint, quite the opposite. I had a lovely campsite attached to Rainbow Hostel, which I couldn't recommend highly enough...lovely people and a very sheltered place to camp, which was just as well, as that night the remnants of Hurricane Helena arrived, and it was rather wild. It still felt such a luxury to be staying in the same place two nights in a row and very relaxing. In a small tent, it can be a bit exhausting packing and repacking all the time.
The hostel has a really big kitchen with seating, and I sat and got on with some crochet in the evening, and the next morning a woman came and asked me about it, being a keen yarnworker herself. Realising I was on foot, she asked if I'd like to come for a spin that afternoon around the Dingle peninsula, which I never would have seen otherwise so I definitely wasn't going to decline such a kind offer. We arranged to meet a bit later in the knitting shop, Commodum, in the village, a short walk away down a beautiful country lane. The shop itself is maybe more for tourists to get yarn than for enthusiasts, but I still found a nice array of colours of mohair and Donegal yarn, so I didn't leave empty handed. And Dingle itself is lovely, super friendly, and attracts tourists rather than traps them. It's just a really nice place to be.
And then ensued a wonderful day... after the previous night's winds it was wonderfully sunny, warm even. One of the first spots we stopped at was a gorgeous beach by Slea Head. Ger said she couldn't really resist a swim, having brought her costume 'just in case' I had also brought my bathers 'just in case' as well so we were in full agreement, and the water was lovely, not at all cold. A good few tourists stopping at the clifftop gazed in amazement....I think we might have made a few holiday slideshows and videos that will be commented on all over the States in the coming weeks....'look at those mad people in the water, while everyone else is wearing hats and scarves!'
We went onwards; this is such an incredibly beautiful part of the world. It was a bit of a homecoming for Ger, as she had come there for Irish homestay classes as a child- this is another Gaeltacht area. We had some great chats and reminiscinces, some personal, some factual and I learned an awful lot about Ireland both past and present. In this country, if you join the library, you can use any of them, take out a book and return it anywhere else in the Republic; I think it is amazing that education and reading for pleasure is so highly valued here. And also the fact that libraries are becoming more and more special; as how many other public spaces are there nowadays where you can spend time without the expectation that you will also spend money. In North West Europe, where the summers are short, that matters. We saw the beehive houses where monks used to meditate and the ruins of houses in what was once, before the Famine, a far more populated area. This catastrophe halved the population, through emigration and through death, and there are still far fewer people than there were 200 years ago on this whole island. When you consider the enormous growth of the entire human population explosion since then, it's very thought provoking. We also saw hedgrows of beautiful red fuschia and orange crocosmia growing wild everywhere....just beautiful. The light, the colours, the changes in scenery were breathtaking, however we still managed to chat away the whole time, finishing in a pub for an early dinner, and were treated to an impromptu few songs by a man with his guitar, on a long pub crawl with the mission to play two songs in every pub along the route.
It was a great day, followed by another wild and windy night, a lot of which I spent rejigging routes and maps to try and adapt my trip to the winter timetables, which is more complex than it sounds being as Bus Eireann's website doesn't want to accept that summer is over, but its buses that actually run are definitely in Autumn now. I relaise that embroidering my map before I left was basically stitching commitment....it doesn't come naturally to me to stick so rigidly to a schedule....but my time is limited, and my route researched, and my character stubborn. If I've stitched a place name, I know I'll disappoint myself if I don't get there. It's not really how I like to live day to day, but this trip isn't day to day; it's something I've invested so much in, in so many ways.
And yet, the next day, so was sad to leave Dingle. I did feel very at home. Ger kindly offered to drive me into Killarney, and it was great to spend more time with her...she suggested the scenic route, and after one of those backwards and forwards 'I don't minds' we all to do to make doubly aure we're not imposing, so we did. And what majestic scenery- the Connor pass isn't like anything I've ever seen before. And this scenic route also meant I got to Kerry Woollen Mills- one of the last surviving working mills in the country (the other two being in Kilkenny and Donegal). It's a special place with so much beautiful yarn, and so much skilled yarn work as well. The lovely, kind Yvonne showed so much enthusiasm for what I was doing....very flattering as I find what she does incredibly inspiring....it's a struggle to keep something like this alive, and they're doing so, independently due to their superb quality. It's heartbreaking that the odds are so stacked against individuals and groups of people that work hard and with passion. The world didn't have to develop this way....and that means hope; it doesn't have to stay this way. If you ever get to this part of the world, please do visit this place, it's really very special.
I felt sad to say goodbye to Ger, and as soon as I got to my campsite in Killarney (functional for a night but a bit soulless) it started really raining and didn't stop much until I left the next morning. Killarney is quite charming but very busy. It's a hub after all, and close to the beautiful scenery around, but it wasn't the weather, and not not did I have the energy for a wander.
The next day was the long journey to Bantry- not actually that far but a two hour bus ride into Cork and then two hours out again. I caught up on my crochet, and was in good spirits when I got off in Ballylickey for my campsite. The plan was to stay there by the sea, walk the three miles in to Bantry in the morning for the wool shop, and then get the daily bus in the afternoon to the next stop. But you know what happens with plans.
So here is a point where I have to name and shame. Eagle Point campsite in Ballylickey is not a place to visit. It's beautiful but staffed (owned? The fingernails of those I met were not those of cleaners) by the unhinged, and downright unkind. I got to the door of reception which said closed, but there were two women inside. I explained that I had made a booking before. 'No, you didn't' came the abrupt reply. 'Well yes, I did actually'. 'No, you didn't, because we closed for the winter on saturday and we never make mistakes. Besides, we don't take bookings anyway' This speech of Papal infallability was delivered with one of those smug smiles beloved of Tory politicians. I could see that I wasn't dealing with reasonable people...and I was feeling more than disappointment, but quite a rational anxiety. I've got off the last bus, there is nothing around here, what am I going to do? Despite the assertion that this was an impossibility, they had made a mistake. I know, I make them all the time, it's really not such a terrible thing to do sometimes. What's more, there were also severe orange storm warnings for that night, so I started to explain 'well do you have any suggestions as to what I can do, I've just got off the bus...' only to be interrupted with 'No you haven't'. Right, so as well as being infallible, they are also the all-seeing eye? 'Errr....I have' 'No, there aren't any buses here' I can see that they are infidels to the existence of buses so there wasn't much point. Plus, I had no video footage as for some reason, it has never occurred to me that I might have to provide evidence of my getting off a bus, still less of the existence of a bus. I'm struggling to remain calm here, and struggling even harder not to be sarcastic. They have all the cards. I explained about the weather warnings; they agreed that they knew about them, and I asked what they would suggest I do. They both stared at me, shrugged and smirked. It was the smirks that made me lose the battle with my temper, called them a pair of fucking bitches and stormed out. Not very nice of me I know, but....honest. If anything I'm underplaying rather than exaggerating their attitude. And I realise that my impression of Ireland as a plan of wonderfully friendly, kind people had been absolutely confirmed. I'd met the exceptions that proved the rule.
I walked away, in a bit of a panic now, the wind was getting up. I briefly considered dying of exposure to prove a point, but even I'm not that stubborn, and then I remembered my habit of never deleting emails, a habit I've been told off about, but will definitely be keeping. I went back to them holding my phone. I told them I'd found the booking. 'Show me. We don't believe you. We would never ever make a mistake like that, would we?' 'No, definitely not. We don't believe you'. So I gave them the phone. With a quick glance she said triumphantly, 'here look, it says the 11th of August, it's your mistake' and turned away. ' That. Is. The. Date. Of. The. Email.' I replied. Two women in an office with a laptop and two computers really couldn't. 'I'll check on the system and show you've got it wrong', said the slightly less nasty one...and then her face changed at the computer, she turned to her colleague-not to me- and said, 'ah it's you, you did take the booking and you did reply that it was fine.' Then she said to me 'well anybody can make a mistake, I'll drive you to another campsite. I was gonna do that anyway, but you were so rude.' We all look at each other and we all know that's not true, and I have to bite my lip as we all also know where the rudeness began. 'You can't.', her colleague said, ' you might miss your conference call' People do business with these women?????? 'oh, I'll be quick' she said. And that I can't fault her on. She drove at breakneck speed halfway up the mountain, and was actually quite pleasant in the car, and so by the time I got out I was feeling a little bad for having insulted her. I pitched up, it's very windy and the guy at the camosite is quite pleasant. And then I check the weather again...The warnings have strengthened to extremely severe, and it dawns on me that she's driven me up an exposed mountainside, before the first severe storm of the year, knowing I am in a small tent with no transport. I can get a bus a couple of miles away the next day to Bantry, but it's the only bus, the same bus I need to get out of it so I'm gonna miss that shop. There are a couple of campervans there, so I think I'll have to make the best of things and at least i'm not totally alone. I need a drink and walk down into the village of Glengariff, which is stunning scenery. I think this may be a silver lining....but then I talk to a couple of people there who tell me I might be in quite bad danger up there in storm Ali. And I was in danger. This was no sensationalised weather panic. I know now that at least two people have died in this storm, one in this area from a falling tree, and another further north, right where I camped my first night here, blown off a cliff. In her caravan...it's just awful.
This lift hadn't been a favour at all, it was just getting me out of the picture, and into danger. And then I get messages and calls from home asking if i'm ok....and have I seen what's coming my way...and it was a horrid night...I couldn't sleep, kept checking the weather whenever the phone come into signal to see the warnings go from Orange to Red, and watching the trees to see if they're going to fall. One other tent has arrived at the site. It didn't survive the night intact and its occupants are in their car. It's still wildly windy at daylight, but dry so I pack up. And then came mutiple silver linings all at once!
I hitched into town with the loveliest pair of guys. They were only going as far as the nearby village but after cheerily chatting about London, they insisted on taking me all the we into Bantry...15 miles. And Bantry is beautiful, and full of friendly, lovely people. Bantry Yarns is a gem of a shop and Mary there a true diamond. Faith in humanity is really restored. I'm tired, but not tired of Ireland, and even less of the Irish. Eagle Point, despite your best efforts, you lost.
Love and light to the rest of you, Billy xxx
So my last post left off on my arrival in Dingle, energised by the sea air. And it didn't disappoint, quite the opposite. I had a lovely campsite attached to Rainbow Hostel, which I couldn't recommend highly enough...lovely people and a very sheltered place to camp, which was just as well, as that night the remnants of Hurricane Helena arrived, and it was rather wild. It still felt such a luxury to be staying in the same place two nights in a row and very relaxing. In a small tent, it can be a bit exhausting packing and repacking all the time.
The hostel has a really big kitchen with seating, and I sat and got on with some crochet in the evening, and the next morning a woman came and asked me about it, being a keen yarnworker herself. Realising I was on foot, she asked if I'd like to come for a spin that afternoon around the Dingle peninsula, which I never would have seen otherwise so I definitely wasn't going to decline such a kind offer. We arranged to meet a bit later in the knitting shop, Commodum, in the village, a short walk away down a beautiful country lane. The shop itself is maybe more for tourists to get yarn than for enthusiasts, but I still found a nice array of colours of mohair and Donegal yarn, so I didn't leave empty handed. And Dingle itself is lovely, super friendly, and attracts tourists rather than traps them. It's just a really nice place to be.
And then ensued a wonderful day... after the previous night's winds it was wonderfully sunny, warm even. One of the first spots we stopped at was a gorgeous beach by Slea Head. Ger said she couldn't really resist a swim, having brought her costume 'just in case' I had also brought my bathers 'just in case' as well so we were in full agreement, and the water was lovely, not at all cold. A good few tourists stopping at the clifftop gazed in amazement....I think we might have made a few holiday slideshows and videos that will be commented on all over the States in the coming weeks....'look at those mad people in the water, while everyone else is wearing hats and scarves!'
We went onwards; this is such an incredibly beautiful part of the world. It was a bit of a homecoming for Ger, as she had come there for Irish homestay classes as a child- this is another Gaeltacht area. We had some great chats and reminiscinces, some personal, some factual and I learned an awful lot about Ireland both past and present. In this country, if you join the library, you can use any of them, take out a book and return it anywhere else in the Republic; I think it is amazing that education and reading for pleasure is so highly valued here. And also the fact that libraries are becoming more and more special; as how many other public spaces are there nowadays where you can spend time without the expectation that you will also spend money. In North West Europe, where the summers are short, that matters. We saw the beehive houses where monks used to meditate and the ruins of houses in what was once, before the Famine, a far more populated area. This catastrophe halved the population, through emigration and through death, and there are still far fewer people than there were 200 years ago on this whole island. When you consider the enormous growth of the entire human population explosion since then, it's very thought provoking. We also saw hedgrows of beautiful red fuschia and orange crocosmia growing wild everywhere....just beautiful. The light, the colours, the changes in scenery were breathtaking, however we still managed to chat away the whole time, finishing in a pub for an early dinner, and were treated to an impromptu few songs by a man with his guitar, on a long pub crawl with the mission to play two songs in every pub along the route.
It was a great day, followed by another wild and windy night, a lot of which I spent rejigging routes and maps to try and adapt my trip to the winter timetables, which is more complex than it sounds being as Bus Eireann's website doesn't want to accept that summer is over, but its buses that actually run are definitely in Autumn now. I relaise that embroidering my map before I left was basically stitching commitment....it doesn't come naturally to me to stick so rigidly to a schedule....but my time is limited, and my route researched, and my character stubborn. If I've stitched a place name, I know I'll disappoint myself if I don't get there. It's not really how I like to live day to day, but this trip isn't day to day; it's something I've invested so much in, in so many ways.
And yet, the next day, so was sad to leave Dingle. I did feel very at home. Ger kindly offered to drive me into Killarney, and it was great to spend more time with her...she suggested the scenic route, and after one of those backwards and forwards 'I don't minds' we all to do to make doubly aure we're not imposing, so we did. And what majestic scenery- the Connor pass isn't like anything I've ever seen before. And this scenic route also meant I got to Kerry Woollen Mills- one of the last surviving working mills in the country (the other two being in Kilkenny and Donegal). It's a special place with so much beautiful yarn, and so much skilled yarn work as well. The lovely, kind Yvonne showed so much enthusiasm for what I was doing....very flattering as I find what she does incredibly inspiring....it's a struggle to keep something like this alive, and they're doing so, independently due to their superb quality. It's heartbreaking that the odds are so stacked against individuals and groups of people that work hard and with passion. The world didn't have to develop this way....and that means hope; it doesn't have to stay this way. If you ever get to this part of the world, please do visit this place, it's really very special.
I felt sad to say goodbye to Ger, and as soon as I got to my campsite in Killarney (functional for a night but a bit soulless) it started really raining and didn't stop much until I left the next morning. Killarney is quite charming but very busy. It's a hub after all, and close to the beautiful scenery around, but it wasn't the weather, and not not did I have the energy for a wander.
The next day was the long journey to Bantry- not actually that far but a two hour bus ride into Cork and then two hours out again. I caught up on my crochet, and was in good spirits when I got off in Ballylickey for my campsite. The plan was to stay there by the sea, walk the three miles in to Bantry in the morning for the wool shop, and then get the daily bus in the afternoon to the next stop. But you know what happens with plans.
So here is a point where I have to name and shame. Eagle Point campsite in Ballylickey is not a place to visit. It's beautiful but staffed (owned? The fingernails of those I met were not those of cleaners) by the unhinged, and downright unkind. I got to the door of reception which said closed, but there were two women inside. I explained that I had made a booking before. 'No, you didn't' came the abrupt reply. 'Well yes, I did actually'. 'No, you didn't, because we closed for the winter on saturday and we never make mistakes. Besides, we don't take bookings anyway' This speech of Papal infallability was delivered with one of those smug smiles beloved of Tory politicians. I could see that I wasn't dealing with reasonable people...and I was feeling more than disappointment, but quite a rational anxiety. I've got off the last bus, there is nothing around here, what am I going to do? Despite the assertion that this was an impossibility, they had made a mistake. I know, I make them all the time, it's really not such a terrible thing to do sometimes. What's more, there were also severe orange storm warnings for that night, so I started to explain 'well do you have any suggestions as to what I can do, I've just got off the bus...' only to be interrupted with 'No you haven't'. Right, so as well as being infallible, they are also the all-seeing eye? 'Errr....I have' 'No, there aren't any buses here' I can see that they are infidels to the existence of buses so there wasn't much point. Plus, I had no video footage as for some reason, it has never occurred to me that I might have to provide evidence of my getting off a bus, still less of the existence of a bus. I'm struggling to remain calm here, and struggling even harder not to be sarcastic. They have all the cards. I explained about the weather warnings; they agreed that they knew about them, and I asked what they would suggest I do. They both stared at me, shrugged and smirked. It was the smirks that made me lose the battle with my temper, called them a pair of fucking bitches and stormed out. Not very nice of me I know, but....honest. If anything I'm underplaying rather than exaggerating their attitude. And I realise that my impression of Ireland as a plan of wonderfully friendly, kind people had been absolutely confirmed. I'd met the exceptions that proved the rule.
I walked away, in a bit of a panic now, the wind was getting up. I briefly considered dying of exposure to prove a point, but even I'm not that stubborn, and then I remembered my habit of never deleting emails, a habit I've been told off about, but will definitely be keeping. I went back to them holding my phone. I told them I'd found the booking. 'Show me. We don't believe you. We would never ever make a mistake like that, would we?' 'No, definitely not. We don't believe you'. So I gave them the phone. With a quick glance she said triumphantly, 'here look, it says the 11th of August, it's your mistake' and turned away. ' That. Is. The. Date. Of. The. Email.' I replied. Two women in an office with a laptop and two computers really couldn't. 'I'll check on the system and show you've got it wrong', said the slightly less nasty one...and then her face changed at the computer, she turned to her colleague-not to me- and said, 'ah it's you, you did take the booking and you did reply that it was fine.' Then she said to me 'well anybody can make a mistake, I'll drive you to another campsite. I was gonna do that anyway, but you were so rude.' We all look at each other and we all know that's not true, and I have to bite my lip as we all also know where the rudeness began. 'You can't.', her colleague said, ' you might miss your conference call' People do business with these women?????? 'oh, I'll be quick' she said. And that I can't fault her on. She drove at breakneck speed halfway up the mountain, and was actually quite pleasant in the car, and so by the time I got out I was feeling a little bad for having insulted her. I pitched up, it's very windy and the guy at the camosite is quite pleasant. And then I check the weather again...The warnings have strengthened to extremely severe, and it dawns on me that she's driven me up an exposed mountainside, before the first severe storm of the year, knowing I am in a small tent with no transport. I can get a bus a couple of miles away the next day to Bantry, but it's the only bus, the same bus I need to get out of it so I'm gonna miss that shop. There are a couple of campervans there, so I think I'll have to make the best of things and at least i'm not totally alone. I need a drink and walk down into the village of Glengariff, which is stunning scenery. I think this may be a silver lining....but then I talk to a couple of people there who tell me I might be in quite bad danger up there in storm Ali. And I was in danger. This was no sensationalised weather panic. I know now that at least two people have died in this storm, one in this area from a falling tree, and another further north, right where I camped my first night here, blown off a cliff. In her caravan...it's just awful.
This lift hadn't been a favour at all, it was just getting me out of the picture, and into danger. And then I get messages and calls from home asking if i'm ok....and have I seen what's coming my way...and it was a horrid night...I couldn't sleep, kept checking the weather whenever the phone come into signal to see the warnings go from Orange to Red, and watching the trees to see if they're going to fall. One other tent has arrived at the site. It didn't survive the night intact and its occupants are in their car. It's still wildly windy at daylight, but dry so I pack up. And then came mutiple silver linings all at once!
I hitched into town with the loveliest pair of guys. They were only going as far as the nearby village but after cheerily chatting about London, they insisted on taking me all the we into Bantry...15 miles. And Bantry is beautiful, and full of friendly, lovely people. Bantry Yarns is a gem of a shop and Mary there a true diamond. Faith in humanity is really restored. I'm tired, but not tired of Ireland, and even less of the Irish. Eagle Point, despite your best efforts, you lost.
Love and light to the rest of you, Billy xxx
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