Thus Far: Beyond Killarney Part I

To be quite honest with you I barely know where to begin. Last week seems like forever ago. I have been to so many places, experienced so many things, and met so many people since my last blog that it has all become one fantastic always interesting, and often heartfelt blur.  But let's see if I can pick up where I left off.

Leaving Killarney was certainly difficult. As I recall; 

there was a gentle mist falling across the village my last evening there so I pulled up the hood of my jacket, hunched my shoulders against the cold, and strolled around town one last time. Eventually, I made my way down into the forest that sits quietly next to the town. I walked along the river listening to the sound of the water as it gently flowed across the rocks, as I am sure it has done since who knows when. I wandered down the path and soon found myself slowly making my way out into an immense, green, open pasture where the full glory of Magillycuddy’s Reeks looked down over the valley, across the glen, and seemingly, down to where I stood. 

I have to admit I definitely got emotional as I stood there looking across the prairie and up into the face of that distant purple mountain. I could feel the tears well up in my eyes and a lump grow uncontrollably in my throat. Those mountains had looked down over me during some of the most grueling moments in my life. It now sat stonily, watching over me, as if to say; finally, you are a part of this place, a part of this planet, and now a part of you will forever remain in Ireland. Moving forward was hard, looking back a must, as so many memories were made underneath that still mountain.

Annascaul: I decide to actually move from one place to the other the way normal people do…I caught the bus. I left Killarney for a town called Annascaul just northeast of my next favorite town and future destination, Dingle. I stopped in Annascaul for one reason and one reason only; the strand at Inch. I had wanted to see the beach at Inch for years and I was certainly not disappointed. I stashed my gear at the Randy Leprechaun, who by the way was one shady character, (more on that later), and headed the 5 miles over the mountain pass (yes another freakin’ mountain), and down into Inch. I will have to say the view from the top of the pass was spectacular, the beach amazing, and the water cold as shit. 
   

Item number 3 was crossed off the old bucket list. Now, on my way back over the pass and back to the Shady Leprechaun, as it came to be called, a little old lady named Mary stopped and offered me a lift back to town. Once again I found myself in a car literally rocketing down a small, narrow, gravel lane. I tried to make pleasant conversation with Mary, which was difficult to do whilst shitting one’s self. Mary, I found out, and from what I could understand through my terror-stricken brain, was on her way to church and was I’m guessing from my years of experience and quick wit, running late. As I left the confines of the car, she told me she would pray for me and I do believe she actually smiled as she spun the tires, spitting rocks and gravel back at me as she left me standing on the side of the road with crap in my pants. Swear to goodness, true story; including the crap.

Now the hostel I was staying at in Annascaul had a very odd feel to it. When I awoke the next morning I met the only three other house guests in the hostel that night which happened to be three girls from Missouri; must be my week for Missourians, as two of my friends from Killarney were from there. Anyway, as we spoke, we all began to share our thoughts about this fine establishment. We were all equally creeped out by the front desk dude and when they offered to let us stay again that night but for free, get one night for ten bucks get the next night free, we all looked at each other wondering what the deal was and all of us trying not to bolt for the door right then and there. It wasn't long before my new friends had packed and were off with me hot on their trail. I opted to stand at the bus station in the pouring rain for an hour rather than stay one more second at the Shady Leprechaun. It’s pretty bad when you can’t even give away a free night's stay. Now that I think back on it; I remember wondering to myself while I was showering why there were like twenty bottles of shampoo left behind on the shelf in the bathroom? Hmmmm…

Thus Far: the Killarney Crew Part IV

Original date 5/31/12

The Killarney Crew

Sunday was one of those days I will look back on for the rest of my life. I would later refer to it thusly: 

That day it was as if some giant hand was putting together a puzzle, and as each member of the Crew came into play another piece of the puzzle was put into place. It was Ian and Sam whom I met as I stepped back into Neptune’s that evening, where Ian suggested that later we should go for a pint, Sam agreed and the puzzle pieces began being placed. Over the next hour or so I met Lauren and Kellie two girls from Missouri and who in my mind were the salt of the earth; two more pieces of the puzzle in place. Then I met Ben. Ben was from Australia. No doubt, we made an instant connection and Ben became what I would have to say was my best mate while I was in Killarney. Sarah from Texas with her innocent smile was next to be placed and, last but not least, Hannah was added to the mix, and with that, the universe made an audible click. The Perfect Storm, as Ben would call it, had been created. Ben nicknamed me mum, as I was the oldest of the Crew, the rest of the kids soon followed suit and together we headed for the pub not knowing that night at the Grand in Killarney would be one of a kind. I don't think I could put into words the evening, the bond of friendship, or the craziness that ensued, but it was a night that could never be duplicated, nor would any of us want to. 

Breakfast Club that morning was quite loud and a great deal of fun but unfortunately, most had to leave that day. They filtered out one by one with hugs and handshakes and wishes for safe travels. And although over the next day or so Ben and I met new friends it wasn't quite the same. He and I slowly said goodbye to them all until he and I were the last two remaining. Ben eventually had to leave on the bus Tuesday morning. We gave each other a gigantic hug and said goodbye, knowing that the universe had pulled us all together. 

The puzzle had been but for one day, but the perfect storm would stay with each of us forever. 

Me and Ben

                  

Thus Far: The Players Part III

The Players: I just want to give a shout-out to some of the people who have helped to make this journey so incredible.

Karen and Steve; I met Karen and Steve my first morning on the Way and we spent the next two nights in the hostels together. We lost each other along the trail but reconnected yesterday in Killarney. We had breakfast together one last time while we spoke fondly of our journey. It was nice to see them once again as we had started out together what seemed like so very long ago.

Brian; I met Brian at the Sleepy Camel on my third day out. He came into the hostel the day Steve and Karen left and I had decided to stay an extra day. Now Brian was a card. He was 75 years old and sewn together with leather and nails. We sat together that evening in the sitting room of the Sleepy Camel, where he drank Jameson and regaled me with stories of his past. As the Jameson in his bottle got shorter his tales got bigger, his somewhat prominent nose got redder, and my laughter grew louder. I met and/or traveled with Brian for the next two days until we lost track of each other in Waterville. He caught up with me again in Killarney two days ago where we reminisced and said a final goodbye as he left on the bus yesterday morning for New Castle.

Glen and Molly: Now this had to be one of my favorite evenings thus far. I met Glen and Molly in a little town called Carsiveen. They were working at a Hostel called the Sive in exchange for room and board. They were disenchanted with the expectations and confines of life in the real world and decided to make and create their own path in life and good for them. We spent the evening sitting by a fire that Glen had built in the hearth of the sitting room, talking about the earth, about kids these days, about expectations of society, and about dreams that were meant to be chased. Loved those kids and I hope they follow their dreams to their fruition. 

The folks at Neptune’s in Killarney; All total I spent four nights at Neptune’s in Killarney. So I have to give props to; Kinga, Juliet, Michael, and Peter, who was the nicest guy I have ever met. Side Note: thanks for the chocolate Peter! To the rest of the people who worked at Neptune’s Thank you for all the love and warmth and laughter. That hostel became like a second home to me. Love you guys.

Ian; I met Ian as I was walking through Caherdaniel and as he was sitting on a stone wall having just come off the trail and was, as was I, tired of hiking. I was doing a day hike at the time so I crossed the street to speak with him and find out what he was up to, to if he was hiking the Way, and if so to see what I had missed on that particular section. He was trying to hitch a ride into Sneem as I would do several days later. We spoke for a few moments and eventually parted ways. I was heading south into the park and he was hopeful to catch a ride north, to Sneem. When I arrived back at Neptune’s a few days later the first one to greet me was Ian who just happened to be sitting on the couch in the lobby when I arrived. It was great to see him and unknown to us at the time that would be the beginning of what my friend Ben would later refer to as “the perfect storm.”

Thus Far:Camping Part II

Original date 5/31/12

                                                                   Camping

Ah, the great outdoors! Ya gotta love it, especially in Ireland. Now, if you thought hiking over a mountain all alone was dangerous, you obviously have never been camping with me. After finding a magnificent camping spot with an incredible view, I managed to, in just a matter of an hour or so, bash my thumb with a rock (aka hammer), cut myself with my pocket knife, and step barefoot on what amounts to Ireland’s version of a stinging nettle. Geez, where is a nice safe precipice for me to almost fall off when I need one? I will have to say that the view was spectacular at both campsites but for a couple of things. After my accident-filled evening, I snuggled down into my tent with a view, which I had pitched along a sandy cove, and watched the sun fade ever so slowly into the mountains. I awoke the next morning to the wind shaking my tent quite vigorously. When I unzipped the door I immediately got to eat a hardy, yet tasty, sand sandwich. I then proceeded to get a taste of that sandwich for the next hour or so while I packed my things and headed to my next campsite just a few miles down the road. Later that day I was still eating, brushing, picking, and rubbing sand out of every crack and crevasse of myself and my stuff. But, did I tell you about how amazing the views were? I moved my pitch and discovered that the view from my new campsite was even better. A beautiful spot along the open cliffs. Unfortunately, after the sun beat down on me for the entire day and the wind howled through me and my tent incessantly (I actually got a sunburn and/or windburn from those two days) I decided it might be prudent to move my tent to somewhere more, let’s say…sheltered. So I got situated in a nice little cove at the top of the campground with no view mind you, but at least I didn't need to hold on to a tree to stand up and I didn't have to weigh my tent down with boulders to keep it on the side of the cliff. Score one for the Gipper! Again, I climbed in and settled in for a nice, warm evening slumber. at dawn, I awoke to a quiet and still morning. The wind had died completely. I crawled out of my tent to stretch I realized something was amiss. Now, I have been in Ireland for almost ten days, but on that beautiful and

glorious morning, I met my first Midge. Oh, and his 50,000 cousins. If you have never met a midge you really must indulge yourself in their loving and welcoming embrace. Midges my friends are basically flying teeth. Not just any teeth, flying piranha teeth. Not just any flying piranha teeth, but ravenous, flying piranha teeth, and not just…well you get my drift. I have never dropped a tent and packed my stuff so fast in all my life. I limped my sorry self up out of that place, thumb throbbing, hand bleeding, sore feet aching, being followed hungrily by a family of midges and looking as if I hadn't slept in days. I was surprised anyone stopped to give me a lift at all. But did I tell you how spectacular the views were? To be honest, it was one of the best times I have ever had in my life even despite the comedy of errors. Life is like that sometimes; you have to learn to take the good with the bad, And, when things don’t go as planned, just put your head down, smile, laugh it off, and make the best of it. Deep thoughts with Kristine, complete.

Thus Far: Hitchhiking Part I

Original date 5/31/12

Thus far I have discovered that hiking over mountains is hard, meeting new friends is easy, and Ireland is magical. Thus, my journey continues. By now I have finished my adventure along Kerry Way having covered over 100 miles of the 120 originally planned. I have written about the difficulties of hiking across the bog, about the people I have met along the way, and about the amazing beauty of this place. Over the past week, I have experienced an array of wondrous things. I met characters from across the globe, hitchhiked, camped, and laughed my way across County Kerry all the way back to where this particular journey began, in one of my new favorite towns in Ireland, Killarney.

Hitchhiking:

I found that I was not the only hiker who eventually became overwhelmed by the tough trail known as Kerry Way. Almost every person I met who was attempting to hike the Way hitchhiked for a least a part of their journey. It made me feel pretty good that I was not the only person to fall victim to the trail, with an assortment of sore shoulders, spent legs, knees that no longer wanted to work, and a lack of willingness to put myself through another day scrambling over some mountaintop somewhere. We all eventually felt the need for a reprieve. I don’t remember what day I left, as the hours and days seem to be running together for me now, but at some point, I departed Carsiveen on foot heading for the edge of town hopeful that I would be fortunate in my pursuit of a ride to Caherdaniel. It was there I was going to camp for a few days and hike out along Kerry Way to the Strand (aka Beach) at Darrynane.

It was a tough crowd that morning and I began to wonder if hitchhiking was a complete and utter waste of time. However, I finally got a ride from an Irishman named Danny (go figure) who was on his way to work in Port Magee. Danny was eating a sandwich as he pulled over. He ushered me into the passenger seat with a randy smile and I spent the next ten minutes feeling the need to wipe the dollop of mayonnaise off of Danny's cheek. Side Note: Said mayo rested on the left side of his face the entire time we spoke. Although he wasn't going far at least it was a start. He dropped me off at the turn to the port where he worked, smiled, waved goodbye, and wished me a safe journey. I can only assume that the mayonnaise has since been removed. At least one can hope.

That was the beginning of my hitchhiking experience which continued with some fairly good results, As I stood on the road waiting for my next lucky break, I was blessed with a spectacular view and again a rare glimpse of Irish sunshine. Kay was the next person to pick me up. After what I can only describe as a hair-raising lift around the cliffs of County Kerry, she delivered me unscathed, but weak in the knees, right down into the center of town in Caherdaniel. I then made my way along the roadside to the campground where I stayed for two days until the midges drove me back to the confines of a hostel (more on them later). To get to my next destination, I stood in front of the campground with a sign that simply read, Sneem. It wasn't long before I was motioned over into a van by two Germans who happened to be heading in my direction.

Now, I have spoken about going with one's gut on more than one occasion; I really need to start listening to my own advice. My traveling companions were heading into Killarney which would be my ultimate destination. However, I really wanted to go to Sneem and Kenmare to hike part of  Kerry Way and discover the beauty of those towns. Instinct told me to stay in the van and just go to Killarney, instead, I forged ahead, I got out at Sneem, and waved goodbye to my travel companions, only to discover, there was no hostel. Okay…forward march. My thumb was already warmed up, so flexing it like a fighter about to do battle, I forged ahead yet again. Off I eventually went with Ian, a lumberjack who waxed poetic about the beauty of the earth, soul searching, and sustainability; my kinda guy. Ian dropped me off in Kenmare where I was assured there would be ample accommodations. Ummm…yeah, no go. Kenmare was beautiful, but the one and only hostel was dinky and overpriced. So being the hard-headed person that I am, I briefly looked around town and then decided to hitchhike, right then there, back to Killarney. In this I learned a life lesson; when hitchhiking to a specific town, it always helps to be on the correct road. I stood on the wrong road for about three hours trying to get out of that god-forsaken town (my pet name for Kenmare). Finally, a nice woman who lived there told me I would have more luck if I stood on the main road into Killarney, not the scenic route that only the tourist took. Duh. She was kind enough to give me a lift to the right road where within a matter of minutes I was tucked into a small beat-up ole car with Michael and his daughter who were seemingly headed in the correct direction. Michael, I found out after the fact, wasn't actually going to Killarney, he was going to

Cork. I was somewhat shocked when he dropped me off at a T-junction in the middle of freakin’ nowhere Ireland, I was like "wholly shit Batman you…are screwed." The sign indicated that I was 20 miles outside of Killarney and the day was drawing to a close. I just stood there with my sign which read, well, "Killarney" looking like what I can only assume was either pathetic or terrified. Luckily, it took even less time than the last to get a ride. Within the first three cars turning for town a nice family, who obviously saw the look on my face, picked me up and took me all the way to the hostel. Whew. Hitchhiking was almost as crazy as hiking over a mountain alone and every bit as challenging. I want to thank all the folks who made that part of my adventure, although often hair-raising, a safe and memorable experience. And to the Germans who made it to Killarney hours before I did, next time…I’m stickin’ with you.

The Magic of the Seffin and Windy Gap: The Bog Part III

Original Date 5/24/12

                     Glencar to Glenbeigh

The Seefin and Windy Gap. Nuff said. The hike up and over Windy Gap was, to say the least, the easiest day on the Way. Leaving the hostel bright and early I got a good lead on Karen and Steve. I figured that way if I ran into trouble I would have them pulling up the rear and they could come and save me. This part of Kerry Way was only eight miles and was mostly road walking so it was a fine uneventful day. Oh except for the magic of the Seefin and getting lost in the clouds in Windy Gap. Now if you have been waiting for me to wax poetic here I go. I am not sure what “Seefin” actually is; whether it is the name of the area I was in or the sink that I walked through, but it was all amazing. At one point  I was coming up a stairway cut into the mountainside and I unwittingly scared a whole herd of wild goats. I’m not sure who was more surprised them or me, but they scattered across the glen way faster than I did that’s for sure. I continued my journey forward and found myself going down another set of stairs that had been carved into the rock outcroppings and then down deeper into what we call in F.L.A. a natural sink. In Ireland, this is the stuff of fairy tales and leprechauns. It was so serene and so tranquil there. I found myself standing alone. I could feel my heart beat ever so gently in my chest, my own breathing the only thing I could hear, and feeling as if I was the only person on earth. You almost felt as if this, this place, was hallowed ground. Not from something religious or man-made, but because

of something spiritual that was being given to you from the earth itself. And as I paused I could feel the presence of something, something special, of what I can only presume was…the aura of the earth. It...was...magical. It was difficult to leave that place behind me and I did so reluctantly. I will always cherish those few moments in time and I will always remember the intensity of that place. Without a doubt, I felt a peace there that I had never felt before. So with those memories made, I continued my way out of the Seefin and headed towards the top of Windy Gap and very soon I again found myself in a place where the earth itself spoke to me. As I was making my way across the dell I could see the clouds drifting across the top of the mountains. At times it was so thick the peaks disappeared only to reappear moments later still looking strong, ancient…invincible. I journeyed up into the high pass where I could scan the valley below and where I could still make out the little country roads, the quaint country church, and the yellow flowers that dotted the valley floor. And then, I was suddenly and quietly engulfed by a soft gentle mist. It surrounded me; I could hear the birds trilling below, I could taste the moisture on my lips, and feel the cloud on my skin as it drifted over me. But all I could see was…the grey. You want me to wax poetic about inter-connectedness, about being one with your surrounding and at one with this earth, about being a part of this planet, not just being on it. Well, there you have it. It was a defining moment in my life. This was the most amazing day thus far and I will delight in it, revel in it, and remember it forever. Poetic waxing complete.

Black Valley: The Bog Part II

Original date 5/24/12                                                             

        Black Valley to Glen Car

After an exhausting first day hiking the Kerry Way, I awoke the next morning and could actually walk, much to my surprise. When collapsing into my bed that evening I thought there was no way I would even be able to move tomorrow let alone hike for 12 miles. I guess I was wrong. That morning I met Karen and Steve who were from England and were also hiking Kerry Way. Although we did not hike the trail together, as I wanted my solitude and they wanted theirs, we did spend the next two nights together at the same hostels where we drank a few cold ones and told stories from the day’s travels. Mine just happened to be the story of the day. (Center of attention anyone?) I had a good start to the morning making my way past the Gearhanour Stream and past the Lough making the decision to veer off the trail and hike along a road that ran parallel to the Way and which rejoined it later. It was beautiful sunny day,  Broaghnabinna Mountain and Cummeenduff Lough were shining brightly in the rare sunlight and I was making good time across the valley. My spirits were high and my aim was true. I easily regained the “Way” and traversed down into Commeenduff Glen. I then followed the posted signs making my way up out of the Glen. I stopped to refill my water bottles at a mountain stream.After surveying my surroundings, I instinctively told myself that south through the low pass was the way out of the valley. But the trail book indicated to first head up a steeply graded road. I hesitated; it just felt like something was amiss. When in doubt people, go with your gut. I ended up taking the wrong path all the while Karen and Steve, who did not miss that particular marker, were across the mountain waving at me frantically and watching helplessly as I veered up the mountain and out of sight. Now when the trail ended smack dab into a lake, I knew I was not where I needed to be. Decision time. Forge ahead or retrace my steps. Since I am the type of person who always errs on the side of caution, I forged ahead. I continued telling myself all the while that I could regain the trail if I could cross the Infant Caragh River and make my way to the top of the near peak, or thereabouts, and look down into the pass to see if I could spot the trail. So, that is what I did. I climbed as near as I could to the top of the bluff, and saw the Caragh Valley, which is what I had been searching for and was supposed

to be heading into, checked my bearing with my compass, decided it was correct, and made my way down onto the valley floor below finally finding the “Way” markers and breathing a sigh of relief. I remember falling in the mud a lot coming down off that mountain; luckily it wasn't over a precipice. So, with my pride intact, my ass covered in mud, and my sound sense of direction back on course, I traversed across the Caragh Valley where I found a gravel road and where I was lucky enough after two hours of walking, to hitch a ride with the one car that came by. It was occupied by two teenagers’ joy riding and who I considered to be my guardian angels. They took me the last 6 km and dropped me off at the front door of the hostel. Steve and Karen were shocked to say the least when I was at the bar awaiting their arrival. I let them think on that a bit before I told them I cheated by hitching a ride. We all had a good laugh, a cold beer and a good night rest before we headed out again the next morning in the hopes of making it to Glenbeigh that afternoon.