Dingle All the Way

 Yesterday was unbelievable. On the advice of a fellow hostel traveler, I decided to rent a bike from a local shop and make a trip around the Dingle Peninsula, about a 40km trek. The Dingle Peninsula juts out into the Atlantic Ocean off the west coast of Ireland, and was called "the most beautiful place in the world" by National Geographic magazine. Hard to argue.

I started off from Dingle town on my rickety rental and was blessed with a sunny crisp and chilly day. The type of chilly that invigorates you. I was really excited because the coast was pretty awesome, the water meeting with the land made for a great contrast in color and scenery. As I continued on,

 this became more dramatic as cliffs began to emerge...I could hardly contain myself and was mumbling to myself to an idiot about how beautiful it was over and over again.

Can you believe that some people see this everyday? There are houses on the hills overlooking all of these areas.

As I continued on, the road got more narrow and much more windy, which made for interesting traffic. Everyone that passed gave me a wave, maybe to sympathize with me for carrying my pack and riding a bike fit for a 90 year old woman.

 

I really wanted to get to a small town called Dun Chaoin (Dunquin) because the Blasket Islands were only two miles off the coast of that small town. A couple years ago I read a book called Twenty Years A'Growin by Maurice O'Sullivan and it really got me interested about the islands. These islands supported a small civilization of about 15 families the eked a living from fishing, herding sheep, and trading with the mainlanders. A very difficult life but a spry and upbeat culture at the same time. In 1953 the last Islander left for the mainland, leaving the Blaskets deserted of people (some sheep left over, they would tend to them periodically), the main reason being consecutive years of poor fishing harvests. There is likely more to that story, which I hope to research later.

My biggest goal in coming to Ireland was to get a glimpse of the Blaskets. If I did nothing else, I wanted to see them. Finally after riding for about two hours, I got to them in real life. I was awestruck and it was a surreal feeling, but I saw them. In Dunquin there was an old old road that went down to a small beach, the traditional landing spot when the Islanders and Mainlanders came and went with their curraughs (canoes). I had lunch there yesterday. Sitting on a big flat rock, sun in my face, and looking at some of the most beautiful scenery on Earth awash in history and tradition. How was your lunch?

My lunch spot

More coast past Dunquin