OnTheRoad: THE DINGLE PENINSULA

DI NGLE
February 6,7,8

We left for Dingle on February 6th. We missed our connection in Cork which caused us to miss our connection on Tralee which resulted in a 2 hour layover in Tralee. A situation which, on first glance, we were not happy about. However, for the brief time we spent there, we both felt that Tralee was charming. The bus company, over come by guilt, stored our luggage while we strolled through town on a cloudy, dry afternoon.

We visited a beautiful church, St. John’s, old and ornate with the highest spire in Ireland.

In the center of the town there is a large park filled with over 1000 rose bushes of different varieties.

In August, there is the Rose of Tralee beauty pageant. Participants have to be of Irish decent and, in the past, an American has won. The locals say they try to stay clear of A marble holy water fonttown for those 3 days due to women .…women…

This winner is from Boston, both parents from Ireland and her grandmother a store owner on the Aran Islands

We had lunch at the Imperial Hotel (recommended by the Tourist Office) and Ann said it was the best roast lamb plate she’s ever had (she’s repeated that statement but in other restaurants). The dinner menus all come with the same sides: Puréed turnip & carrots, mashed and roasted potatoes and cabbage. Turnips are growing on us.

The road to Dingle is spectacular with mountains on both sides of Dingle Bay. The sun has come out as we arrive in town and our hotel. Gerard gets a break as the bellman some how manages to get our luggage up to the 4th floor and repeatedly refuses a tip – turns out he is the assistant manager.

We hook up with Denis Ryan, our guide for the peninsula: 55 years old, blue eyes, dishelved long hair with an easily understandable brogue. He’s a musician with love for Sean-Nos – traditional Irish songs sung a cappella. He’s jammed with Macy Grey’s band in Dublin and decided to do tours and share his knowledge of this untouched area for work and save his music for enjoyment.

Ann can' t believe she took this road

The other picture is how it looked from our vantage point

Two movies were filmed on the Dingle Peninsula: Ryan’s Daughter and Far and Away. Ryan’s Daughter, around the 60s, was a boon for the local residents. It took 3 years to film. The cast and crew fit in well with the locals as there were no hotels and they stayed in local homes – the beginning of the B & B movement we were told. If you owned a home here at that time, you would be “wealthy” now. On the other hand, the locals do not have fond memories for the cast (Tom Cruise & Kidman) and crew of “Far and Away” Dennis says, “….the further the better”. Apparently, Cruise was especially inflicted with jerkitis, throwing a party where he and his guests trashed the rented house and subsequently were evicted….Dennis added that this info was suppressed. The cast and crew were in and out of the area in a couple weeks with no monetary benefit to the locals…the new Hollywood.

Around 7 PM we went across the street to a pub with an Irish (Gallic) name. We met a young (25) bartendress who recently got married to another bartender there. She was from Olympia, Washington. – her husband was Irish. They’re having a destination wedding in an old abbey church in Dingle and her family and friends are coming from the States. In October she’s moving back to Washington because they cannot afford to live in Dingle “A comparable 500K Euro home ($650K American) would cost $350,000 in Washington”. It leads me to believe that we may have cheap land in California. Dublin, and all of the rest of Ireland, London, Paris – all very expensive land. I’m no economist though and the doom sayers say otherwise.

We met Bill at 8:30 PM and took a cab to hear Denis’ event. We arrived before showtime and went next door. Ann had lamb stew before showtime and once and for all proclaimed this “the best lamb stew in Ireland”.

We shared the one bowl and it was great....accompanied by Guinness and brown bread. I was surprised at how soupy it was but Ann assured me that this was the real thing.

We returned to the bar next door. We met Pat Lawless, an 80 year old, neatly dressed man with a trimmed beard, ready smile and engaging personality.

He now lives in Limerick but came to Ballyferriter for a funeral. He was with his sons. He reminded Ann of Uncle Art. In 1963 or so, he taught himself how to sail. A year or so after, he told his wife he was going on a trip and then solo sailed to Newport , Rhode Island in 58 days in a 25.9 foot fiberglass boat. He was now divorced – he gave his wife everything but stated, “I have everything I need” Here are excerpts from articles on him:

"The Limerick sailor Pat Lawless, who was attempting to circumnavigate the world single-handled, spoke briefly about his experience during which he had to abandon his trip. He suffered rudder damage to his boat (i.e. almost impossible to steer the boat) during the storm which the Whitbread race encountered on the first few days of the event. He signaled a passing Nigerian owned boat for help and is now safe in Cape town. He hopes to return to Ireland shortly.
What is unique about Pat is that less than five years ago he couldn't sail, yet had the ambition to sail the Atlantic alone. He learned to navigate, bought a boat, sailed it up and down the Shannon a few times, and then off to America. He duly arrived safe and sound, much to the relief of his family, and the city in general (who thought he was certifiable). As far as I can remember, upon his arrival he found that he couldn't get the boat transported home and he couldn't sell it there, so he turned the boat around to complete the return leg."

And at an environmental meeting in Ireland:

"Pat Lawless, the Limerick man [349] who sailed from Limerick to the United States, recalled at an environmental conference in Clare over the weekend, the sea of plastic on which he was floating as he fought his lone battle across the major trade routes of the Atlantic. "

He also commented to Ann that “the worse storm was the tail end of a hurricane.” Ann thought about some of her crossings to Catalina and was in awe. We told him we would forward this on to his son so he could read about himself….hi Pat!

The show started in another room. The lights were turned off, candles dimly illuminating the room. An “emcee” of sorts started talking in Irish (Gallic) and then a 75 year old man with a red baseball cap began singing. It was beautiful and haunting. Others followed. The style is called Sean Nos. Everyone was silent except the singer – many with their heads bowed…occasionally someone would join in on the last few lines of the song. It was like being on the plains in the early 1800s with Guinness replacing peace pipe fodder. Ann said listening to the music reminded her of American Indian chanting. A student, Katie, who was studying with the group from Sacred Heart College, then chimed in with an old Irish song in English. Her voice was soulful and the expressions on her face sucked you in deeper. It was a mystical experience, out on a unspoiled peninsula nearest to America.

Denis sang 2 songs…both comedic. “Dublin songs with suspense, intrigue and murder.” Very entertaining.

I took a break and went to the bar. I met David, a 55ish gray bearded, overweight local reading a book while devouring pints of Guinness. He asked about our trip, I mentioned Yeats…he disparaged him. We exchange some barbs. I order 2 glasses of Harp and as I’m leaving, he says, “is the beer for your daughters.” Well, I should have said….

I returned to the tepee and its mystical aura until the show ended. We hugged Denis. Denis later told me th