OUR FIRST INN TO INN HIKING / WALKING HOLIDAY
Our first walking holiday was an 8-day inn to inn hiking trip around the Dingle Peninsula of Ireland. We booked our trip through Sherpa Expeditions because our friend Mary recommended them, but the trip was actually run by Ireland Walk Hike Bike. We had zero knowledge of walking holidays and it was our first time visiting Europe, but I trusted Mary. She was a seasoned world traveler who had completed several walking holidays. Mary is also 30 years older than me, so I figured “if Mary can do it, so can I!”
Looking back on that trip, all I can do is laugh at my naivety. But if I knew beforehand how hard it would be, my fear would have prevented me from one of the most REWARDING experiences of my life!
The trip began auspiciously with rain, a missed flight and re-route to London Heathrow (instead of a direct flight to the small Shannon Airport we had purposefully chosen for our first international flight). A jolly Irishman named Mike Malone was waiting for us at Shannon Airport and while we tried to stay awake he pointed out castles and explained Irish driving. Just as Eric would nod off, Mike would yelp “Jesus!” when people cut him off.
TRALEE TO CAMP
23km/15.5mi
Our first night in Tralee introduced us to the European preference for “bring your own washcloth” – something our trip packet hadn’t mentioned (most likely because they assumed we already knew). We dined at Cassidy’s, enjoying our seafood chowder while listening to a well-dressed older woman drop the “f” bomb every few minutes in polite conversation. The next morning our innkeeper (who reminded me of Mrs. Weasley from Harry Potter) called a local football player a pussy, at which point I almost spit out my coffee.
Lord love the Irish and their lack of prudishness.
Through wind and rain and rocky terrain we prevailed on our first day of walking. A wrong turn early on added an hour to our hike, but it was a beautiful mistake. Our morning began with a traditional Irish breakfast and heated debate about soccer football. The walk that day was our most difficult of the trip, due to weather and distance, but the scenery was ever-changing from farm to coastal to forest so we never really noticed our aches and pains until we ended our day at Seaview House Bed and Breakfast. Our innkeeper met us with hot tea and fresh baked fruit bread. That night we ate mushy peas for the first time at Ashes Pub, one of many memorable pubs from that trip.
At one point the rain was so heavy that we couldn’t see and some locals in a VW bug stopped to ask if we needed a ride — to which I thoughtlessly responded “no thanks, we paid to do this!” The couple drove off looking at us like we were nuts. Eric still retains some resentment for this, as he was ready to hop in that car.
CAMP TO ANNASCAUL
17km/11.5mi
Day 2 began with more rain but it didn’t last and it made for beautiful photos. The walk downhill into Annascaul was hell on my ankles and Eric’s knees, but our pub experience that night more than made up for it. We took an afternoon snooze and missed the dinner hour (which ended at 8:30). Bedraggled and starving, we walked into Hanafin’s Bar hoping for peanuts and the bartender immediately welcomed us to sit at the bar. Eric had a lively chat with the Old Anchor Inn owner while I got caught in a bizarre conversation with the town drunk who alternated between Gaelic and slurred mush. While sipping my Dingle Gin, I finally worked up the courage to ask John (the bartender) if he had any food and without hesitation he replied “how ’bout I toss up a ham sandwich for ya?” He then proceeded to leave his bar unattended while he ran upstairs to his personal kitchen to make us the best ham and tomato sandwich I will ever have.
Have I mentioned how much I love Ireland and the Irish people?
Our fellow pub mates said in 20 years they’d never seen John serve anyone “grub” so we must have looked pretty pathetic. We fell asleep that night feeling like we’d come home, lulled to the sound of live Irish music from the pub below
ANNASCAUL TO DINGLE
20km/13.5mi
It was at this point that Eric claims I began muttering to myself and castigating the local livestock. He swears he heard “these damn sheep, all they do is sit around all day and not move. They don’t know how good they’ve got it!”
DINGLE TO DUNQUIN
17km/11.5mi
This coastal walk was our favorite of the trip. It was also the day we met Sean Moran, the 79 year old owner of Moran Transportation and expert of all things Irish. During our ride with Sean, we learned:
- Where the Star Wars film locations were
- In his youth, Sean drove Robert Mitchum around when he lived there for Ryan’s Daughter
- Where the lookout spots for German u-boats during WWII were
- How the “bloody Irish government” was selling coastal fishing rights to Spain and how over the years he’d seen 24 local family Dingle boats dwindle to 3
- Sean’s business transported older students in Dingle so we received a thorough schooling on Irish education
The rain and wind made photographs difficult that morning, but it was so quiet and wildly beautiful that I didn’t care. We had lunch at a cafe near Dunbeg Fort, saw the “Sleeping Giant” (Ceann Sibeal), and ended our walk at the Blasket Interpretive Center. That night, we were regaled with stories of German plane crashes and the survivors who fell in love with local girls and stayed. The loquacious Michael O’Connor, 4th generation owner of O’Connor’s Guesthouse, was worth a trip to the tiny hamlet of Cloghane.
CLOGHANE
6km/4mi
When the cat wasn’t caterwauling and sending hateful vibes at me through the cone wrapped around his head, I could hear Sherry telling Eric about how her father told her never to marry a man she met in a bar. Imagine her father’s dismay when she met an Irishman in a Boston pub and followed him across an ocean.
REFLECTIONS ON OUR FIRST INN TO INN HIKING TRIP
We were only on the Dingle Peninsula for 8 days, but when we took the bus back to Shannon Airport it felt like we were leaving roots behind. At the Boston Airport we were immediately barraged by news coverage of the 2016 presidential campaign (and all the drama that entailed). Our instincts were screaming at us to “go back!” By the time our vacations are over we’re usually ready to be home, but this trip was different. During the trip we had very little exposure to the outside world as the bulk of our trip was spent outdoors in remote locations. The people of Dingle ran the gamut of jolly, content and cantankerous — but they all seemed to have a peace about them, a sense that they were happy with their place in life.
Transitioning from this to our busy, grasping American life was like stepping out of a paradise directly into a war zone. I was shell-shocked.
But by far the most life-changing part of the trip was the TYPE of travel. Relying solely on our feet to take us from destination to destination was such a wonderful way to experience another place. The routes designed by Ireland Walk Hike Bike showcased the best landscapes and town life, and the inns were all unique and charming. We felt like pilgrims, not tourists, and there is a BIG difference between the two.
A pilgrim concerns themselves with the journey, while the tourist concerns themselves with the sights and experiences.
I’ve always known I didn’t like high tourist destinations, but I never knew how much I could enjoy entire days of seeing absolutely nothing that would be covered in a travel guide. I mean come on, no one would buy copies of Travel & Leisure if their top suggestions were walking through pastures with sheep and small towns with limited dining and toilet options. Yet when you remove the touristy sights, you’re left with the “normal” and that’s when you feel like a local. And THAT kind of travel is my drug of choice — I simply can’t get enough!
