The Ring Continues

I’m getting better at this driving thing. Heck, I’d even venture to say I’m getting pretty good at it. I can even hit 100 kilometers like the locals, leaning with each (and many) turn—sort of like Indie 500. I’ve gotten to the point that when I get behind a slow, cautious car, I’m muttering, “tourists” under my breath, like I’m sure all of Ireland was doing yesterday with me.

The Ring continued today a bit early (after having a bit too much Guinness that evening with fellow soccer fans), but I set out under the first rain I’ve seen in Ireland. For a “rainy” country, it doesn’t seem to rain often. As fate would have it, any time I got in the car, it would rain. As soon as I got out, it would stop. I feel the Irish gods are on my side on this trip.

The first town I hit was Caherdaniel, home of Daniel O’Connell—Ireland’s “Great Liberator” in the 1800s. His summer home is well preserved and set up as a museum, and while enjoyable, I found his back yard far more to my taste. Again I ended up on the beach, shoes in hand as I walked across the sand and water. There were very few other people out, or at least not as early as I was, and I could enjoy the dark rocks, clear blue water, and diving seagulls mostly to myself. I put on some Irish music on my iPod (because it seemed suited for the scenery), and walked from the house all the way to the ruins of an old abbey on the sea. O’Connell’s beloved wife was buried there, and her death hit him hard, as well as hitting his political career. Apparently, without her guidance, he didn’t make the wisest choices—which really makes me wonder if the old saying is true: “Behind every great man is an even greater woman” (or at least I think that’s how the saying goes).

Under clear skies (which of course turned cloudy the second I hit the driving seat), I headed up to a tiny town called Castle Cove. I set out for Castle Cove with the distinct ambition of finding Staigus Fort—an ancient structure still standing for over a thousand years. Built pre-Christianity, it was probably the fortress of a major chieftain, and, the most interesting part, is that the still-standing walls are built without a piece of mortar of any kind. The ancient mind certainly boggles the modern one at times—I can’t help but wonder what intellect was employed to built a wall far outlasting its people or even its name, all without technology we find so essential today.

Finding Staigus Fort was a bit of a challenge, although Ireland is delightfully well marked as far as signs go. But the road was tiny—as in very tiny, and when I was met with an oncoming car, we did a bit of a very slow magic act, our cars practically brushing, and at one point my mirror just a hair’s length from his rear light. Amazingly (mostly thanks to the fact that I’m not worried about the paint job on my Kia), I squeezed past and was bouncing down the road again. I thoroughly enjoyed Staigus Fort—it was high up on the hill and filled with a small handful of other tourists (Chinese, French, and German). Tourists like each other, I think. We have something in common. So we talked, some took a picture of me so that I can actually be IN all the photos I took, and then we parted ways.

From Staigus Fort I headed out to Sneem—a delightful little town that had so much character, it was busting at the seams. Every house was not only a different color, but a different build, which made the streets bright and unique. In the center of the town is something of a green (albeit a small one), and a stone bridge connecting the two centers of the town. The locals call this “the knot in the Ring of Kerry.” It was very quaint, and the perfect place for a late lunch/early diner.

Afterwards, far too tired to do much more, I went back from the way I came (seeing the beautiful coast all over again), until I hit the port town of Portmagee. Here I’m staying at the bridge to the Valentia Islands, which I may stay an extra day to explore after tomorrow. I find myself too tired to go in search for food, so I’ll probably call it an early night at my beautiful bed & breakfast hotel (with large windows, lush white blankets and green scenery).

Tomorrow, if the weather permits, I’ll take on the huge endeavor of Skellig Michael—a tiny island just off Portmagee, home to a 6th Century monastery. Wish me luck!

PHOTOS (all photos on this blog can be seen even for those who don’t have a Facebook account by using these links):

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=442428&id=794430163&l=6841b6633d