Ireland adventure Day 4 – Baltimore to Mizen Head to Killarney

Please note: During our trip to Ireland, our priorities were hiking, the most beautiful scenery, pubs and live music. We also rented a car. You won’t find much in these posts about fine dining, shopping or the public transportation, though I’m confident there are great resources for these topics elsewhere online. I have also included some resources at the bottom if you’re planning a similar trip.

I had another great night of sleep in our cozy second floor room at Rolf’s. It’s interesting, there aren’t any screens in the windows in Ireland, but I never saw any bugs. We had a perfect breeze, and everything was so comfortable. This was probably my favorite of all the places we stayed. We woke up, enjoyed another great breakfast in the restaurant and packed up to head to our next stop on the trip: Killarney.  

On our way, we decided to go see Mizen Head Signal Station (pronounced by locals with a short “i,” or with a ridiculous long “i” if you’re a silly American), the most southwesterly point in Ireland. We passed through cute towns like Skibbereen, with charming brightly colored buildings, and drove by land and seascapes that took my breath away. Particularly as you get closer to the point, the oceanfront scenes are exceptional. Of course, you endure a matrix of insanely narrow roads to get there, so as I’d say, “Oh my God, just look at that!” Hank would just smile out of the side of his mouth, his hands gripping at 10 and 2.

Our afternoon at Mizen Head is one I’ll never forget. People told us it was like the Cliffs of Moher on a smaller scale, and I would agree with that, but I would also say that the entire experience was closer … more humbling.

There are so many ramps and steps, that you can walk as much or as little as you like. We started by going out over the bridge toward the station. Suspended over water, Hank looked down and spotted a seal living his best life in the small inlet under the bridge, a long, playful body moving in a natural teal pool.

There were look out points pointing you toward jagged peninsulas, with the Wild Atlantic as far as the eye could see. I suppose some lucky folks have spotted whales off the shoreline. The wind pounded against my ears and lifted my hat as I put my life in the hands of an iron fence and ventured down the planks hovering in the air.

As we went the other way, down by the main cliffs, I was amazed at all of the intricacies layered into these shale and sandstone faces. Within the profiles of the cliffs, there are inlets and coves and caves for exploring. I stood at the closest point, with the sun riding the tops of the ocean’s ripples and tried to commit the scene to memory. A magnificent marbled silhouette, limbs outstretched into the diamond-studded water, trimmed in the lace of the waves connecting with ragtag earth. We were observing a poem in motion.

There is a café and nice gift shop on site. As we were leaving, a family was passing around a teapot at a picnic table overlooking the cliffs and it made me smile. We drove by a group of cows on the way out and Hank asked if I thought they knew what a great setup they had.

As we made our way back down the narrow roads that took us to the cliffs, Hank had a better view of the beaches. “We’re going down there,” he said. “We’re going to figure out how to get there and we’re getting in that water.”

And so, we did. We took a right over a one-lane bridge and parked at Barleycove. A short stroll down a boardwalk and over a floating bridge of plastic blocks, and our naked toes were pressing into the Ireland sand. 

I will tell you that there, on that beach with our pant legs rolled up and our shoes dangling from the crooks of our fingers, I felt parts of my spirit wake up. I felt more present, more connected, more in touch with this world than I have in years. I let myself get lost in the intoxicating spontaneity of it all and it felt like heaven soaked in salt water. I saw it in Hank, too. There were people bundled up, in wet suits, in bikinis … all grasping at the final feathers on the tails of Ireland’s warm season. The water was chilly and sensational, and if I could have bottled it all up, I would have.

We looked for a little pub in Goleen, but nothing was quite open yet. We grabbed lunch at Along the Way Café Goleen, two yummy pastrami sandwiches, and coffees and a piece of s’mores fudge to go. On our way to our car, we stopped into the visitor’s center, where a lovely woman told us the most scenic route to take to Killarney.  

I would be lying if I didn’t tell you there were moments when we, as a couple, doubted the instructions we were given, both by our friend in Goleen and the Polo’s GPS. We ended up on a less-than-one-car-wide lane through a nature preserve, kicking up rocks and dust. And then … without any warning at all, the route spit us out onto the top of the most beautiful valley I’d ever seen. The sun was shining down in streaks over the verdant green scene beside us. A sheep, escaped from the grass below, could have kissed our car as we passed. It was like coming out of the dark into a perfect panoramic portrait painted just for us, and we had no idea it was coming. I suppose no one can really prepare for beauty like that anyway.

We drove through three tunnels, came around a curve and pulled off at Molly Gallivans Cottage and Traditional Farm. This place was like stepping back in time. The second you get out of your car, under the watchful eye of a towering carved druid, you hear traditional Irish music echoing out over a rolling calendar-worthy hillscape.

The cottage is more than 200 years old. At one point, as a widowed woman with many mouths to feed, Molly turned it into an illegal pub. Eventually, she toned it down and started offering tired travelers tea and home cooking to make ends meet. According to the website, “Jeremiah Gallivan was the last of Molly’s descendants to live in the cottage. Jeremiah, a bachelor, farmed the land using the same traditional methods as his ancestors” until his death in 1997. If you saw the living quarters in this place, you would understand why I wanted to start that last sentence with, “Shockingly, …” Let’s just say I doubt Jeremiah was catching the latest Seinfeld when the rest of us were.

Molly’s has a surprisingly large shopping area, bathrooms and the most wonderful, sweet smoky smell. It’s worth the stop to catch your breath and soak up a little Neolithic vibe. If you are planning a visit, their website has more details about hikes, dining and shopping at the visitor’s center, so be sure to check it out.

We were riding a high as we drove into Killarney. Day 4 had been a feast for the eyes and the soul, Ireland was everything we could have dreamed it would be, the world was all pots of gold and rainbows and then … Bam! We almost died. I’m not even joking. Two older women turned right in front of us. Hank had to swerve and slam on the brakes and you guys, I’m telling you, that little VW Polo came through for us in a big way. Between his reaction time and that little car’s insane ability to stop on a dime, I lived to type these words. I needed new underwear, but I lived.

We were still a little shaken when we pulled into Loch Lein Country House after 5. Of all the places we stayed, this was probably one of the only ones I wouldn’t necessarily stay at if we went back. It was lovely, but if you like to walk, it’s just not convenient. Well, I guess that’s not really a good way to put it. It’s kind of perfect if you like to walk … far.

We cleaned up and did what we’d done in the other cities we’d been to, we decided to head out for dinner on foot. There was a place just up the road, but when we got there (after a roadside sheep spotting) it didn’t look very promising. “Let’s just keep walking toward town,” I said. Hank pulled out his phone to see what I was getting us into. While he had his face in the screen, my ankle rolled and Wham-o! I went down onto the gravel on the side of the road, cars driving by. I got up and clapped the dust off my hands. My husband didn’t miss a beat. (I’m a very graceful creature.)

The pads of my palms throbbing and peppered with pebble dents, we soldiered on. It was a not-so-brief 4km walk into town. Thankfully, Hank spotted a nature path across the street, and it made for a nice commute. We saw so many stags and an older couple told us they are all over the park. The wildlife certainly made the brisk walk go faster.

By the time we made it to the main strip in Killarney, our feet were screaming. We saw a cute place down an alley and went with it. Stonechat was yummy. Hank had Irish stew and I had fish and chips, of course, and an awesome strawberry lime cider. The host told us to go to Paddy Sheehan the Grand Bar and Niteclub for traditional Irish music, which is where I think they send everybody after the dinner hour.

There was a group playing traditional instruments and singing toward the front when we got there, so we sat at the modest ledge and small stools along the outside of the room. One thing you should know when you go to Ireland is that much like any venue in any town in any country, getting a table is a sport. A congenial sport, but still a sport. A table opened up and I moved in fast. A couple next to us leaned over and struck up a conversation, eventually joining us in our corner booth. They were from D.C. and going around Ireland for a few days before they headed to Scotland for a wedding and then wrapped up their trip in London. (They were actually there when the queen passed.)

A cover band came on at 11. I forgot how much I love a good cover band and a late night. There was a group of college-age students next to us, playing drinking games and dancing. Time is a funny thing. I can remember being that girl, clumsily moving toward the dance floor like a pinball on its way up to the top bumper. Stepping on strangers’ toes and flashing a drunken, crooked smile to imply it was all in good fun. Screaming every word to every song, which was my favorite song, every song. Dancing at the front, with new friends whose names I never quite got. It was both yesterday and a million years ago. We stayed until about 1 a.m. and caught a cab home, ears buzzing.

Quick reference details for those planning a trip to Ireland

Travel agent – We worked with Maria Lieb at Discovering Ireland. We were given her name by an acquaintance who took a very similar trip to ours. Maria helped us narrow down locations, the duration of our stay in each town, selected and booked all of our hotel and inn rooms, reserved our car and insurance, and provided travel guides. You can reach her by emailing maria@discoveringireland.com. 

Transportation – We opted to rent a car so we had flexibility each day. We did the full insurance, including tires, and rented the GPS navigation. In Ireland, compared to the United States, the steering wheel is on the other side of the car, and they drive on the other side of the road, which can be confusing, but you catch on. Also, be prepared … some of the roads are very narrow.

Dates of our trip – While most people go to Ireland in June, July and early August, we were there August 26 – September 5, in an effort to still get decent weather but avoid some of the crowds.

Weather – We were spoiled with the weather while we were there! Temperatures were typically mid- to low-70s during the day and the 60s at night. We only had rain two days.

Money – We primarily used our credit card, which was very easy. They will often ask you if you want to pay in euros or dollars. It’s best to select euros. We also used local ATM machines to get cash, which came in handy for cabs and snacks. In our experience, ATMs were better than exchanging currency at the airport.

Things I packed and didn’t need –

• Hair straightener (couldn’t use in any of the outlets)
• Jewelry (wore a necklace one night)
• Jeans (heavy and unnecessary)
• Big suitcase (I’ll pack smarter next time)
• Makeup (nobody cared, and I barely used it)

Things I didn’t pack that I wish I had –

• More of these functional pants from REI – (I also liked these)
• My TEVA sandals (loving these right now)
• Hiking poles

Things I was so glad I packed –

• Versatile weatherproof pants (linked above)
• Hats (I rarely did my hair)
• A buff for my neck or wrist
• Good hiking boots and trail shoes (I took these and loved them)
• A light backpack for hiking
• Crossbody purse (or hip bag) for evenings and days out
• Sunglasses
• Raincoat
• Umbrella
• Moisture-wicking layers (tanks, ts and long-sleeve)
• Small bottles of hand sanitizer
• Hair ties (my hair was in a pony or braided most days)
• Good socks
• Dramamine (If you get motion sickness, this is life in Ireland)
• Notes app or a journal
• Fitbit charger (we averaged 22k steps a day)
• Phone charger
• A mobile hotspot (we rented a wifi candy and picked ours up at the Dublin airport)
• GPS

The flight – We flew out of Chicago, which is about two hours from our home. The hardest part was finding a place to park at O’Hare! We got there about three hours early and had plenty of time. The flight was direct to Dublin and took around seven hours – give or take – both ways. I thought Aer Lingus did a tremendous job of keeping everyone fed, comfortable and happy. Take a little something to help you sleep and you’ll be there before you know it! Our experience at the Dublin airport was incredibly positive. Quick and painless!