Three Days on Ireland’s Dingle Way

The Dingle Way is a 110 mile foot path circling Ireland’s Dingle Peninsula. Jutting out into the Atlantic, its beauty is often compromised by the climate and whims generated by the ocean’s moods, as we will soon find out. Being somewhat short on time, we have chosen a three-day portion of the path that otherwise takes 8 to 9 days to complete. The 40-mile portion we have chosen is supposed to be the wildest and most remote segment.

Dingle to Dunquin

The path follows the road and is easy out of Dingle.  After gently rising, it descends into the town of Ventry. The road is lined with tall hedge rows. Most are full of black raspberry plants that we happily gorge on. Our fingers are soon purple from their sweet juices.

We stop in a small store to pick up a few things. We ask if there are any other stores along our three-day route. The young lady didn't know. In fact, she didn't know much about the Dingle Way itself, and the path went right by her store! She had to ask her mom where the Way went and if there were any stores we could stop at (two days away by foot, by the way).

She wasn't the first person we have talked to without any knowledge of the trail. We were surprised at how many people were unaware of its existence and many of these people were those that lived in the area.

After leaving the store, the trail turns and we find ourselves on the beach. The sand is firm making for a softer walk than that out on the tarmac. This is a nice alternative to the jarring of pavement walking that wasn't doing MK's knees and joints any favors.

We are alone. There are no other walkers in sight. 

This again surprises me thinking the trail to be more popular than it apparently is. I see only two other pairs of boot prints in the sand. We will end up seeing some others in the coming days, but even so, there are nowhere near the number of people I was expecting.

Off of the beach, the trail takes us back into the hedgerows. It is muddy. The slop is made mostly of cow and sheep shit, a good amount of piss, and the runoff from the adjacent fields. We are hemmed in by the tall, impenetrable hedge rows, so there is no escape. The only alternative is to slog on through the slop.

After a brief respite of road walking, we are now up onto the slopes overlooking the cliffs that fall precipitously down into the Atlantic Ocean. We are at the farthest western reaches of the trail, also the farthest western reaches of the whole of Europe.

We parallel, and sometimes climb over, old, ancient stone walls as we gain elevation. Circular stone enclosures, called chlocains, are frequently seen along the slopes. Ancient stone buildings of other types are also nearby. Sheep are grazing everywhere. We frequently have to shout or bang our walking sticks to startle them and have them move off of the trail.

After twelve miles and seven hours, we find ourselves in Dunquin and our B&B. It is here that parts of the movies  "Far and Away," with Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman, and "Ryan's Daughter" were filmed.

Dunquin to Feohanagh

Heavy mist and low clouds dominate the skies. We are soon damp from these conditions as we press on for today's 14 miles.

The trail does not have much elevation differences for today's portion allowing us to make good progress. But progress is sometimes slowed as we stop to pick the ripe berries from the roadside hedges.

We soon find ourselves on the beach with its crashing waves and wind driven sands. MK's legs are exposed and she feels the brunt of the stinging sands. Natural exfoliation. Despite this, the raw remoteness of the beach has its own unique beauty.

Off of the beach, we are back on the tarmac of the one lane rural road. Damned berries!  We can't help ourselves and frequently stop to savor their juiciness.

We turn off of the trail to find a grocery store we were told about. We buy picnic supplies for tomorrow's lunch since there will be no other opportunities to do so for the remainder of our trek.

The mist turns to a heavy, wind driven rain just as we arrive at our night's lodging. Sometimes luck is on our side.

Feohanagh to Cloghane

As I sit down for breakfast, I am still full from last night's gourmet meal that our B&B hosts expertly prepared. And for breakfast, it is more top notch food; grilled salmon, mushrooms and potatoes for me, a cheese and mushroom omelet for MK.

Fortified, we set off on our 12 to14 mile day which is to take us up and over a pass next to Mount Brandon. The mountain itself is shrouded in clouds while the adjacent pass we are to climb over is clear, located just below the ceiling formed by the dark grey cloud mass hiding Mount Brandon.

The village dog comes out from his barn to greet us as we make our way down the narrow road. She will walk with us for the next several miles as we make our way to the base of the mountain. I don't know if her presence and insistence in walking with us is a good omen or a portend of tough times ahead.

At the base, the road ends and the trail begins. There are no switchbacks, just a straight as an arrow climb up to the pass, 2,000 feet above us and 2-1/2 miles away. The path is wet and boggy making our boots waterlogged too soon into the day's walk.

Behind us, the valley and the distant shoreline cliffs are in full sunlight. Ahead and above us, the mountain and the pass are dark and gloomy from the low level clouds.

We press on and are soon at the pass. The winds are strong, perhaps 50-60 miles per hours. I stand into the wind at a 45-degree angle and still, I do not fall forward. We take photos so that we can memorialize our accomplishment.

As we descend, the wind continues its gale force strength when it begins to sleet and hail. The downhill is treacherous enough, but made more so due to the falling rain and ice.

The muddy trail is mired in bog, surrounded by wet grasses and puddles. To keep our feet somewhat dry, we hop from rock to rock, tussock to tussock - goat-like, as we continue our descent. The skies open up again and soak us with its icy rain. We've had all four seasons of weather in just the past 1-2 hours: sun, clouds, fog then clearing, wind, cold, warmth, dry skies and then rainy, icy skies.

Near the bottom of the pass, a shepherd's shack mercifully appears in the mist. We take shelter there and have lunch made from supplies bought yesterday back on the trail. It energizes us as we continue the last remaining windy and rainy miles of our trek.

Foot sore, we wearily walk into the small village of Cloghane. After checking into our hostel for the night, we have a dinner at a nearby pub where we chat with some of the other trekkers we have met on the trail over the past several days. I drink one too many Guinness with a German couple while we exchange travel stories and advice.

After a full meal and a hot shower (and many beers for me), we sleep deeply, reveling in the accomplishment of the past three days of hard miles we have walked.