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 sites for these topics elsewhere online. I have also included some resources at the bottom if you’re planning a similar trip.
I slept so well that first night in Galway. I attribute a lot of that to the cool, familiar whisper of air conditioning streaming from the heavenly box above our bed. But before I fell asleep, I got sucked into the most amazing show. I had to research it once we got home, because I never caught the title, but for a closeted reality TV lover like myself, “Our Shirley Valentine Summer” was a true international treat.
I won’t go down the rabbit hole too far because, I know, Ireland, but the premise was this: Eight middle-aged British female celebrities were taken to Greece to live in a home together and find love. It was inspired by the film “Shirley Valentine,” which I’ve never seen, but is apparently about self-discovery and as far as I can tell, the reality series only got one season in 2018. Cuddled up with a slight buzz watching 40-, 50- and 60-somethings use dating apps and flirt with young locals against the turquoise Mediterranean backdrop was dessert without the crumbs.
We woke up and had breakfast at the hotel. Over a so-so continental spread, we decided the weather looked promising enough to tackle Diamond Hill, located an hour and a half drive away in Connemara National Park.
Ironically, the whole of Ireland is about the size of our home state, Indiana. In many ways, this took some pressure off, because we knew that we were a reasonable drive away from anything we wanted to see on any given day. And, motion sickness aside, some of the drives were the most memorable parts of the trip. I would say this was the case for our day in Connemara.
Just outside of Galway, we decided to pull over and get gas and snacks. There are very few things I would change about our trip, but the convenience store goodies were a huge missed opportunity for two trash pandas like us. Why did we wait so long to sample the Irish inventory? We really tried to make up for lost time. We grabbed crisps (potato chips) and drinks and a handful of candy bars. “Throw a Boost in there,” the cashier said, realizing what she had in front of her. And you know what, not to spoil the ending, but the Boost turned out to be my favorite.
Driving into the park was like entering a portrait. Towering, tiered peaks that would typically reflect back in glassy pools of water below them, on that day mingled with cotton ball clouds in various shades of porcelain, pearl and peppercorn. The road bent to the water’s perimeter and we followed its contours, finding something new to awe over after every curve.
We came to a small inlet with a service building down below and there were sheep grazing everywhere! Hank pulled over. He knew I had my traveler’s heart set on touching the wild wool coat of one of these cuties. I followed the dotted lines along the side of the road – one boot on the grass, one on the asphalt – and inched cautiously toward his (I assume it was a him) fleecy frame. Just as I got within arm’s reach, he trotted away, crying out a forceful baa to warn his buddies another crazy blonde American with a phone and an Instagram-influenced dream was in their midst. Mama still managed to snap a pretty sweet new profile pic though.
We pulled into the parking lot and got our bearings. The trails were very clearly marked and easy to find. We FaceTimed the kids back home so they could see the donkeys, horses, cows and sheep hanging out at the foothill. Of course, I tried to pet another fluff ball, but he, too, evaded my fingertips.
When combined, the lower and upper Diamond Trails equal a 4.7-mile loop that reaches 1,348 feet in elevation and should take approximately 2 ½ hours. Simple enough, right?
Inviting stone steps take you up to the lower Diamond Trail at a clip that’s entirely manageable. I must have taken a hundred pictures of the horizon in the first half mile. A shelf of clouds was perched right at the peak of the tallest mountain in the distance, with gorgeous grassy valley interrupted only by lagoon blue pools.
The larger stones gave way to a path filled with small pebbles and then back to large patchy rocks. The entire hillside was punctuated by the chummy lavender petals we’d come to appreciate on these adventures. After climbing for some time, we stopped on a particularly soft patch of sod to grab a drink and get out of the wind. “Looks like there’s some weather moving in,” Hank said.
And while he isn’t a meteorologist by trade, the man was right on the money with this report.
When the first few drops of rain fell, for a split second, we thought about turning around and going back down the way we came. But we were so close to the summit. We thought. So, like the true wilderness idiots we are, we made the joint decision to push on. What an adventure this will be!
The first thing I noticed was the fog. (I should mention that I don’t have great vision on the clearest of days.) It was smokier than a college house party up there, and rolling in thicker and heavier with each gust of wind. And there were a lot of gusts to speak of. My cheeks were a magenta receipt of the unforgiving, aggressive bursts of dewy air thrashing against the only skin I had exposed.
Then the rain picked up.
Then the rocks got slippery.
A German couple caught up to us, scampering up the Jenga stones like third-round finalists on American Ninja Warrior. The woman was wearing jeans, old Sketchers and carrying her leather purse (a handbag, not a crossbody). I was practically crawling on my hands and knees in full hiking apparel. I let them pass me just below the summit.
I imagine that the view from the top of Diamond Hill is majestic on a cloudless afternoon. For us, it was more of a triumph. We had made it! Alive! There were still views that moved me to pull out my phone, even at the very real risk of drowning the electrical innards, but the things that truly made that day so memorable were the adversity and the company. Even though I was chilled to my bones, I will always recall that afternoon with my guy with warmth and nostalgia. When I look at the photos I see a woman with the biggest smile on her face because she is awake and alive. And the adversity … I mean, that’s why you hike. It always seems impossible until you do it and then, after a few beers, a plate of nachos and a good sleep, you’re crazy ass wants to do it again.
And I can’t forget the pure comedy that comes with that degree of saturation. When I tell you, friend, that we were wet, you can’t even begin to imagine. I could have jumped into the ocean, fully clothed, and wouldn’t have been as completely drenched as I was walking down from Diamond Hill. My toes had a pool party in inches of rain water at the tip of my boot, and I got to hear them celebrating with an unmistakable Squish! every single step I took. My pants, which were not technically waterproof, were suctioned so tightly to my skin I might as well have gone streaking.
My hair wet and curling, a steady stream pouring off the brim of my hat, we soldiered on until we reached the front of the park and I managed the hardest thing I had to do the entire 10 days we were away. I wrestled those suctioned non-hiking hiking pants down my blushing, frozen thighs so that I could go to the restroom. Talk about strenuous! It was time to wring out our shirts, dump out our boots and go get more snacks.
If you thought I was kidding, I wasn’t. Same gas station. More crisps. More chocolate. We went back to our hotel and had room beers, Ireland convenience store refreshments and a seat on the floor so I could use the hair dryer on my base layers.
An hour later, we popped our umbrellas and headed toward the main drag in Galway. We put our names in at The Quay Street Kitchen. It was a 25-minute wait so we wandered over to The Dew Drop Inn and ordered a few beers. One sip down, the restaurant called and had our table ready. I tried to chug, but didn’t make a dent. That pilsner was pushing back.
Quay Street Kitchen was so cute and cozy. They had blankets and pillows available for guests and the tables were close together. Initially we were sitting next to an older couple visiting from Connecticut. Then they finished and two physicians, from Florida and New Jersey, respectively, took the table. We had a nice time visiting with both, which I can honestly say never happens in the United States. I got fish ‘n chips and a goat cheese and beetroot salad. It was all good, but that salad sent me on a 10-day-straight warm goat cheese streak after we got home. It was dreamy and creamy and rich.
The main streets of Galway on a Friday night are … we’ll go with frisky. As two newly appointed quadragenarians, teetering the fine line between Millennials and Gen X, with three young girls, two full-time jobs and a C-Pap in tow, it’s safe to say we hung up our clubbin’ clothes many moons ago. Our party playlists are frozen somewhere around Usher’s “Yeah” and O.A.R. “Crazy Game of Poker” if that helps paint the picture. So when we came out of our lovely late dinner into the full weekend vibe of this lively Irish town, it was a tad jarring. Like time traveling back to spring break but with the bodies and mindset of PTA parents.
First, we found a back table at Tig Coili. Supposedly someone was playing trad music toward the front but we couldn’t hear a thing. A super friendly local couple leaned over and asked us about our plans. Turned out, the gentleman worked for an orthopedic device company headquartered 45 minutes from our front door. The world is enormous and tiny all at once.
Wanting to hear music, we stopped into a few other places but they were so crowded you couldn’t even get to the bar. Eventually, we ended up back at Kings Head, the same place we’d been the night before, and found a little two-seater table tucked in next to the bar. The cover band was playing greatest hits from the last few decades … you know, songs you’d find on our party playlist.
Now, I realize that this next part is going to make me sound 87 years old, but walking back to the hotel was like being in Times Square at 12:02 a.m. on January 1. The youths were out in force, with material as thick as single-ply toilet paper covering just the very bottom of their buttcheeks. In Ireland, you can drink at 18, but I’m guessing the ID checking is fairly lax. Kids were lined up to get into clubs, glass breaking everywhere, pulling down their pants trying to pee in the street, falling onto the pavement. A girl was passed out in a doorway, while her girlfriend waved the ambulance over. It was sloppy. And the mother in me had a very hard time just walking by, but you got the sense that was the best thing to do. It wasn’t scary necessarily, but it was a mega hot mess on a chilly, drizzly evening, topped off by a couple … um … getting to know each other better in a shallow doorway on the street just down from our hotel. All signs pointed to time to take our old asses to bed.
Just outside the elevator, a vending machine with a Chunky KitKat beckoned. We put our change in, pushed the buttons, the coil turned and the bar got stuck. I moaned. The concierge came around the corner, “What’s the trouble?” he asked, the charming Irish accent dripping off every syllable. I pointed to the cliff hanging candybar. He put one hand on each side of the machine. “Ya know whatcha gotta do here, is ya just gotta shake the fuck out of it.” And that’s exactly what he did. And wouldn’t ya know, two Chunky KitKats fell to the bin below. I doublefisted the sweet confections up to the third floor, put on the warmest jammies I had and turned in, that sweet, familiar whisper of air conditioning soothing my wind-worn cheeks.
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!
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