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A Family Holiday on the Beara Peninsula

Storm Dave leapt across the windscreen wipers as we left Labasheeda on Easter Saturday, heading to Allihies, West Cork. At Killimer, the Estuary bobbed about, tossing grey splashes of water high into the sky, while we queued to get on the Ferry to Tarbet. Roisin, Jack, Aine and Aoibhin joined us three cars behind. I waved through the window…not wanting to get out and blown into the sea. The boat pulled in, we drove on and we were away, off on our holiyers for a week. On the other side, we agreed to stop in Kenmare. Wow, what a pretty town, colourful shop fronts, hanging baskets, picket fences. Even Storm Dave couldn’t cloak its charm. We dived into a very crowded restaurant and having shovelled burgers and chips in as holiday nourishment, we got back into the cars and set off in convoy around the Beara peninsula.

Peaked mountains of a golden green hue rose around us, jagged rocks, and hair pin bends rose into the dark skies. The clutch on our car is not in best shape, and our lovely Avensis shuddered her way up and down through the Kerry squalls. Then as we crossed into Cork, a glorious blue blossomed out of the grey watery sky. Sunshine filtered through behind the clouds and a turquoise ocean spread itself before us, glinting and winking in the sun. Just like that.

Our Airbnb was large with, when the weather allowed, lovely views of the jagged points of the Skelligs. There was great space for us and the dogs (Poppins and Alfie) and that evening, we cooked a big shepherds pie, took turns to try and feed some to Aoibhin who actually prefers a slurp from the boob, read Aine books, enjoyed a bottle of wine and retired to sleep.

The next day, Roisin, the girls, the dogs and I headed down the lamb laden road (aahhh) to the beach to fly the kite. For the first time, I was successful at kite flying (the wind helped – it whipped the kite out of my hands and tore it into the sky). Unfortunately, my excited squeals led Poppins to believe that she needed to protect me from this accursed enemy. She started jumping up, tearing lumps out of my coat to try and get the kite. The wind took advantage of the distraction and swept the kite back down to attack my head from every squally direction. Roisin watched with great glee and amusement.

On our return, we decided to repare to O’Neils bar and restaurant…which is where we found ourselves often during the holiday because…well, because they have great music and  they do a great Sri Lankan chicken curry. As Joe said, when he joined us there later, ‘it’s great going on rainy holidays with small kids as we seem to spend a lot of time in the pub!’

Actually, we did get some lovely weather and Joe had to pay penance for his smart comment by playing with Aine on the beach, chasing waves and filling buckets full of sea water while Roisin and Jack were in Sunset Sauna and I was watching the dogs and Aoibhin. At the end, Aine’s tights, dress and jumper were dripping wet as were his trousers up to his knees! I think its called Uncle Care.

On the Wednesday we took the cable car across  blue skies and seas to Dursey Island where we meandered through the village.  Joe and I abandoned the family ship and headed into the mountain top for a proper walk and picnic. The next day, we all got a fabulous afternoon walk with the kids when we went to visit Dunboy Castle. What an amazing place. Aine and I loved playing among the castle ruins. We also had a fascinating wander around the Buddhist Temple perched on the edge of the mountain, and had tea in their lovely garden outside, soaking up the rays. One rainy day, we visited the tin mine museum in Allihies and climbed up to the tin mine in a big, heavy damp moist cloud which in itself was rather beautiful and everywhere we went, rain or sun, we had lovely chowder, mussels, fish and chips, (particularly in Castletownbere) but always, we repaired back to the lovely Sri Lankan chicken curry in O’Neils!

It was a fab holiday: great scenery, good games, and interesting chat…particularly about the fuel blockades. And it was nice too to come back (just had enough petrol) to the peace and quiet of Labasheeda, and of course, the crows who welcomed us with a lovely loud chorus of caws.

Buddhist Temple
Joe and Me on Dursey
Waiting for Chicken Curry
family train
Dunmore Castle
Dunmore Castle
Joe at the top of the mountain
Poppa and Aine on Cable car
Tin mine
Waiting for food…again
Turquoise sea

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New Friends and Relations in Labasheeda

We have moved into Labasheeda, West Clare and already made friends: Milly, Molly, Mandy, and Maisie. These are the names I have given the murder of crows that guard our local dominion. Ciaran, Connor, and Cian live across the road in the trees lining the Estuary. In the morning, I stand on my bedroom balcony and sing my good mornings to them. There is much too-ing and fro-ing, cackles, and caws, which makes the garden seem a busy place though in the afternoons, they seem to enjoy siestas and it is very peaceful.

The folk in Labasheeda are also very friendly and we have been heartily welcomed by everyone we meet. (I’m not sure the cat next door feels the same about us as she has been already chased up one of those crow trees twice by Poppins). On Sunday afternoon, we popped into the local with Roisin, Jack, Joe and Aine after unpacking a few hundred boxes, and Fergal warmly shook hands when I introduced myself and said if I tell him my favourite wine, he would get it in! If only I had one favourite!!!

Of course, there are also relations. It turns out Fergal is the partner of the daughter of Jack’s (my son in law to be) uncle by marriage. And when the Eir engineer came to install Sky, it turned out that he is the son in law of Jack’s Aunt. (Sadly, it didn’t help him install Sky as it seems the Crows rule the roost and more poles need to be erected). Patricia, Jack’s mum, comes from Killimer which is only up the road, and it seems she has five or six siblings so I think we’re going to find ourselves lots of new friends and relations. Liam, who was with Mike, putting boxes of flowers on our garden wall, asked to be remembered to Patricia because he was at teacher training college with her in Dublin.

Anyway, more about our new home. It was an old forge back in the day and in the nineties was redesigned by a creative architect, Graham Jones. It is open plan, aside from two bedrooms, has a galley kitchen, a mezzanine and is painted red, green and white throughout. There are interesting features, and a lovely use of wood. The wooden floor downstairs is beautiful and the living area at the back is very cosy. There are two stoves to keep us warm and a fabulous garden to enjoy during this sunny weather. Our boundary is a stream (which I had to wade across this morning to rescue the cat which Poppins had chased up a tree). The mezzanine is ‘drenched’ (the auctioneer’s term) in light and we have fantastic and beautiful views of the estuary. Also, Labasheeda Quay is only a three minute walk and at high tide it is lovely to swim there. The future looks rosy. (I can hear my mother from wherever she is warning me not to invoke the law of Sod).

Our first nights have been wonderful. I have lain awake in my bed, gazing up through the open velux window, the black sky awash with stars.  I watched two stars speed across the sky in a straight line, avoiding other stars, as if each had a destination in mind, and a desire to get there on time. Time seems immense as the night hours pass. I can almost feel the earth rotate as I watch Castor and Pollux move South.

After the rainfall today, the stream is gushing again and there is a hint of salt from the midnight incoming tide of the Shannon Estuary. It is hard to believe that this is going to be home.

Anyway, I’ll leave it there for the minute. Tomorrow, we need to get the fence sorted and there are a few more boxes to unpack, heating systems to work out, and at some point I have to start on knitting seven woolly hats for the bridesmaids (don’t ask).

Tout a l’heure!

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The Stormy Last Five Days of UK Election Campaign

We spent the last five days of the UK election campaign in Kerry. On arrival in Cahersiveen, we went straight to Ferdha’s pub and had chowder for lunch:  light, creamy, stuffed with prawn, cod, potato with a hint of sauvignon blanc. I had a pint of smithwick’s shandy and sized up the blackboard specials with an eye on the future, it was to be either curried monkfish or crab. There was not a hint of a politician anywhere, not even Sir Ed Davey bungee jumping.

After returning to the very nice Airbnb, we unpacked and went out to check the lay of the land. That afternoon, we found two ancient stone forts snuggled among a scrabble of coves, a number of smuggling piers, a stretch of beaches, and green cliffs that rose, momentous, into grey cloud, crammed with earth, soil, and craggy rock. When the kids were little, we used to build stone or wood forts…but our skills never extended to the wonders of Cahergal. Meandering the country lanes, we sniffed at the strands of salty air which hung like large luminous diamanté drops on yellow primrose, ragged robin, herb robert.

The next day began with drizzle and lemon tart, fresh baguette, and cappuccinos from Petit Delice. On the way back, I popped into Corkery’s and bought sink strainers, plastic bowls and Epsom salts. I just love those types of shops.

Given the drizzling rain, we decided to investigate what was once the barracks in the town. It stood tall, white, narrow, three stories high, staring over the River Fertha but it looked like a turreted fairy castle. However, do not be fooled. In we went and I was instantly turned into a miserable, haggard, old age pensioner! Having turned sixty-five, I was charged the concessionary price while Joe had to pay the adult price! This was definitely an age pivoting moment for me. Anyway, fortunately, I was able to still climb all three stories. The barracks was all about Daniel O’Connell, the Catholic Emancipator. Did you know he inspired Ghandi? I was impressed! Later in the week, we visited O’Connell’s enormous, lovely house and gardens (with plants imported from South America) in Derrynane…and let me tell you, he could afford to be lavish in sentiment!

On day two, Valentia Island beckoned us across a narrow concrete bridge. We decide to explore the island in clockwise direction so our first stop was Bray Head. (Obviously, we are still in Kerry, not Wicklow). Up we climbed to visit a clump of cows, poised precariously, at the tip of the cliff. I don’t think they have cattle on Bray Head in Wicklow. When occasionally a ray of sunshine was able to pinpoint them in the sea mist, the views of Skellig islands were fantastic. Next, we meandered around to the Light House perched on the cliff. During our explorations, we went up to the top of the lighthouse and tapped out our names in dots and dashes. It was very windy, and I had to cling to the side to avoid being blown off. After much needed carrot cake in the café, we went on to check out the Tetrapod prints. These are the footprints of the first fish ever to emerge from the sea and walk on the earth. It happened here…in Kerry! We wondered how the geologists knew. I bet the Healy Raes told them. Later, watching the footy, I thought about how impressive it is that, after a million years, those fishes evolved to become these two teams of grown men kicking a ball around a field, and men shouting at each other over a podium.

On day three, we climbed to the high of the Castlequinn Loop, trying to avoid stepping on the buttons and black swirls of poop that come from arses of the horny sheep that stood on the rocks, bleating for all their worth. It was beautiful…for an hour. There was blue sky, rays of sun, emerald seas and a glorious vista of Horse and Puffin islands. Sated with such incidental glory, we headed down for lunch in Cahersiveen. Unfortunately, I chomped on an olive which was in my Greek Salad and it broke my tooth! I can now feel a jagged hole and it hurts when I breath in air. I did know my dentist was also in Kerry (bodyboarding with his kids) but I don’t know where. So, instead, I go buy Ibu Profen, which does the trick. That evening, by way of consolation, Joe took us out to The Oratory, a converted church, for pizza and wine. (You see, the roles are definitely reversing). Anyway, old or not, it was a lot better than communion!

On our last day we head to Catherdaniel. The weather storms around between wind, sun and rain but these are elements with which we’re now at home. In Waterville, coaches of tourists clamber out of coaches to mill and snap the fabulous views. We pass by. The road rises. The sky is blue. We come to a bend and drive through a mountain pass, gasp with delight at the stunning view: glistening gems and sparkling jewels are all aglitter in the sea. We laugh with glee, and descend down through a glorious avenue of trees and fragmented rays of sun, to reach Derrynane beach. It is practically empty and beautiful. The tide is out. Joe and I canter across the sand, over rocks and pools, in the dunes. The wind is fresh, the stone is warm, the sea is blue,  black, grey or green. The air is filled with sun and rain. Glorious.

On Thursday 4 July, we have to wend our way home, away from glistening seas, and back up to Cavan via Limerick where we drop Joe off. At five o’clock, we pick up Poppins from Precious Pets, and come home. I make leek soup, lay out cheese and crackers, ready to watch the British election results. Last time we watched the British elections, my friends Kevin Higgins and Susan Millar du Mars were with us and it was a wipe out for Labour. Thank God, this time, the Tories are wiped out. Kevin would have enjoyed it. I truly hope that Labour is able to tackle the poverty and Tory destruction in a more comprehensive manner than Keir Starmer suggested on his campaign. I am also pleased by the increased Lib Dem vote. I found myself in agreement with more of their policies before I went to Kerry than Labour’s. The increase in the Reform vote is very alarming and scary but, at least, there is now a salty glimmer of hope in the air in the UK, though I’m pretty sure it will be stormy weather ahead!

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