DINGLE WAY, IRELAND – a walk with character

They're supposed to be 'drystone' walls, but when it rains, they get wet too.

The newspaper which has first publication rights on my articles has just published the piece I wrote about our lovely walk on the Dingle Way, in County Kerry, Ireland. That means I can now release the full story on this blog…

‘Nobody does rain like the Irish,’ our walking guide John Ahern assures us. ‘Other places have rain too, but our Irish rain has character.’

A likely story, I think, as I pour myself a third cup of coffee to wash down my Full Irish Breakfast of soda bread, eggs, bacon and black pudding. Outside, character-filled rain is drenching the streets of Tralee and thick mist shrouds the Slieve Mish Mountains above the town.

‘It’s a holiday, not a route march,’ John reminds us, ‘so you can decide how much walking you want to do during the week. Any time you’ve had enough, I’ll arrange for the leprechauns to come and pick us up.’

That’s sounding better. Though most of our group – Canadian, German, American, Swiss, Dutch and Australian – are experienced hikers, we’re also the wrong side of fifty and not looking for athletic achievements to notch up on our trekking poles. Four or five hours walking each day will be plenty, especially in this weather.

When the shower eases, John drives us in his little van to our starting point on the Dingle Way. The name ‘Dingle Way’ suggests a gentle amble rather than a vicious trek, and indeed, although there is some mud, some rocky terrain and a couple of respectable climbs to negotiate, we find it’s a walk we can all comfortably manage.

We slosh through fields and clamber over stiles, watched by wary black-faced sheep, and soon we have to agree with John that a little Irish rain adds to the experience. The countryside is lovely when the sun breaks through, but it’s the cloud clinging to the peaks, the showers drifting across from rugged islands in the bay below and the moisture glistening on stone that give it its unique quality.

That man with the beard would be a colourful local character, except for the fact that he's Canadian.

Walkers come to Ireland’s west coast for its gentle beauty, the appeal lying less in spectacular vistas than in the colours at eye-level. Bright fuchsias and orange monbretias line winding country roads. Heather- and gorse-covered slopes are broken by ancient stone walls. Russet red sphagnum moss is slowly turning into peat bogs, and the locals are still cutting the black stuff and stacking it for drying.

Visitors come here for the history and the stories too. This is land where for centuries people struggled for survival, battling poverty and oppression. Drystone walls mark age-old farm boundaries and offer us a sheltered lunch spot, and we explore what is left of the oratories – tiny chapels from the early days of Christianity.

John points out the remains of the beehive huts used by travelling preachers and storytellers through the centuries.
The walking pace is leisurely and we love it when John calls a halt to fill us in on some history, share a joke, or moan about Irish farming practices (‘propped up by your European subsidies.’)

Beehive huts. Even in the days when they had roofs, they weren't five star accommodation.

Colourful characters pepper his stories. St Brendan the Navigator set sail from the Dingle Peninsula in the 6th century for Iceland, Greenland and, according to some, America.

More recent adventurer Tim Severin recreated Brendan’s voyage and proved that crossing the Atlantic in a leather vessel was possible, though not for the faint-hearted.

Sir Roger Casement, human rights activist and Irish patriot, was captured at Tralee Bay and executed by the British for alleged collaboration with the Germans during WWI.

At the end of the day, tired but satisfied and with very wet boots, we squelch back to civilization in the Railway Junction Bar. Mick the bearded barman pours us hot toddies and we join local Kerrymen watching a hurling match on TV.

Then John drives us back to Tralee for hot showers and then dinner. Excellent meals are part of the package, and we enjoy the local salmon before slumping into our comfortable beds.

Next morning leprechauns arrive to ferry our luggage to a hotel by Smerwick Harbour, while we make a solid climb up the mountain above lovely Lake Annascaul. Along the way we hear John’s rendition of the legend of the giant Cú Chulainn’s battle on the towering cliffs, and we learn that the rough circle on the hilltop is the ruin of a Celtic fort, thousands of years old.

That afternoon we have time to wander round Dingle village, buzzing with an influx of visitors. It’s playing up its Irish charm to attract them, with brightly painted cafés and shops selling knitwear and pottery. Our traditional pub dinner in John Benny Moriaty’s is followed by a fine session of the traditional Irish music for which Dingle is famous.

A Dingle street. The houses were all white until the tourists started coming.

‘Australian, are yeh?’ someone asks me, ‘D’ye know Tadgh Kennelly?’ I’m happy to say that although we’re not close mates, I’ve watched him play some decent AFL games for the Sydney Swans. That’s a good answer, apparently. I can bask in the reflected glory of a local Kerry hero.

We give our legs a mid-week break and spend a day poking around the schoolhouse left over from the filming of Ryan’s Daughter, and visiting the Great Blasket Centre, a museum dedicated to Gaelic language and art.

It looks out on Great Blasket Island, from which the last few residents of Ireland’s most westerly point were evacuated in 1953. Most had already left for Springfield, Massachusetts. ‘Ireland was never a place people came to; it was a place people left,’ we’re told.

They’re trickling back now. Dingle hillsides are dotted with holiday homes but it’s still far from crowded, and not much is going on in little Clohane where we spend our final evening. John tells us the Clohane policeman once made the Guinness Book of Records for going 30 years without bringing a single miscreant to court.

There’s an out-of-tune piano in the corner of the pub, so we hikers make our own fun, singing Irish and German songs, and dusting off our party piece recitations. Accompanying impromptu dancing and my new Canadian friend David’s tin whistle, even my scratchy fiddle playing is accepted.

We may be disturbing the peace, but the policeman leaves us alone. Dingle Peninsula welcomes colourful characters.


1. Visit the Skellig Islands. Since there is only limited access by boat, the ruins of the 6th century monastery on world heritage Skellig Michael are exceptionally well preserved. EUR27.50 See skelligexperience.com

2. Kerry County Museum, Tralee, gives a good overview of the history of the Dingle Peninsula. EUR8. See kerrymuseum.ie

3. Take an ecotour of the Blasket Islands. Seabird and seals, with the chance of finding whales and dolphins too. 2.5 hour tour costs EUR25. See marinetours.ie

Getting there: Qantas flies from Sydney to Cork via London from $1825.
Buses run hourly between Cork and Tralee. EUR30 ($42) return.

Walking there: Utracks offers 8-day walks on Dingle Peninsula including accommodation, meals and luggage transport from $1790(guided) and $1190 (self-guided). See utracks.com or phone (in Australia) 1300 303 368.
Further information: On the Dingle Way, see dingleway.net
On things to do in County Kerry, see discoverireland.com/au

The writer was the guest of Utracks.

First published, Sun-Herald, Sydney.


Filed under Hiking, Ireland

8 responses to “DINGLE WAY, IRELAND – a walk with character

  1. Rachel

    Ah, Dingle. I went there hoping to walk the Pilgrim Way, but the hoof and mouth disease scare had caused all but the seaside walks to be off limits. It was early May at a B & B near Ballyferriter. I was enchanted on my the seaside walks, including Smerwick, by the rocks, the nearby cliffs, the spring flowers, the sheep, and the beehive iron age huts. And it didn’t rain on me at all.

  2. Lovely post! I spent three weeks touring Ireland, sometime ago, and fell in love with Dingle. Why though did the town paint the houses when the tourists started to arrive? I remember the colourful town and friendly people, we even had dinner in the same pub! How could you not, Dingle is a small place. Great post and pics.

    • Thanks Jennifer. I think it’s true of most Irish villages that house paint used to come in any colour as long as it was white. Check out some old photos.

      Why it changed, I don’t know – it may be worth an investigation (and a blog post!).

      Nice that you’ve been to Dingle and John Benny Moriaty’s.

  3. Angela Highstead

    Did Kerry, Dingle and Beara peninsula’s in 2005. The memories of the trip and the poetry of the Irish pen still gives me goosebumps.
    ‘ – though the air is so soft it smudges the words.’ Louis MacNeice – Northen Irish poet. “Oh for some soft Irish air here in Perth this summer”.
    Love all your columns.

  4. Yes I would like to walk in late April or early May

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