Dingle, Ireland

Dingle is a small town of about 1900 people and 40 bars. Those kind of ratios reminded me of my roots in rural Wisconsin; lots of bars, churches, and a small population. We had called ahead to reserve a room at a local B&B and were instructed to give a ring when we arrived in town because the proprietor would be at the pub watching the big football (soccer) match.

Our check in was expedited as we arrived a bit earlier than expected and the match was about to begin. Our host made a few recommendations as he attempted to catch his breath from the short jog from the pub and then he was off to catch the game.

We set out for a drive around the Dingle Peninsula to take in the epic beauty of the Irish coast. Winding our way around the coves and cliffs proved to be a test of faith as many of the corners are blind and much of the roadway is only wide enough for a single vehicle. The narrow roadways proved to also be a blessing as it is impossible for tour buses to navigate the tight quarters.

The Dingle Peninsula was an area that suffered greatly during the famine between 1845-1849 due to its remote location. Evidence of the famine still exists in the stone cottages that dot the rocky hillsides. For a small fee we were permitted to explore a few of these cottages.

It was a short hike up a gravel walkway that was occupied by some of my favorite farm animals: goats! I attempted to play with the goats but they didn't think I was nearly as rad as I thought they were. Having been snubbed by the goats (apparently the famous Irish friendliness doesn't extend to farm animals) we rounded the corner to be greeted by a ghostly child, feet wrapped in straw and burlap, with hands extended in a plea for food or help, or both. My heart skipped a beat and then I realized that wasn't a ghost haunting the house, it was a mannequin added to capture the struggle and despair of the famine. I have to say it was VERY effective. I had goosebumps as we wandered through the cottages reading the plaques that told a tale of hardship, loss, and despair. It was eerie to know that the events we were reading about happened within those walls and the tears shed fell on the dirt underfoot.

Famished (no pun intended) after a day of adventuring, we finished our evening with a meal of local smoked salmon, broccoli soup, and dark Irish stout. For dessert we enjoyed more Irish stout and some traditional Irish music.