Tag Archives: Killarney

Stopping at the Gap

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the Gap of Dunloe

It took three tries, but I finally got there—the Gap of Dunloe, a remote pass through MacGillycuddy’s Reeks. The Reeks, Ireland’s highest mountain range, lie just to the west of Killarney National Park. I first read about the Gap months ago, and I knew I had to go. The isolation was calling me. (Plus, the name of the mountains is just so cool!)

I wanted to hike the Gap the first time we entered the park, but we spent too much time in Killarney town after our wild and crazy drive through the lakes of Killarney. Which is not a bad thing. Killarney is a good-sized town with plenty to enthrall, but after a filling lunch, it was too late in the day to start a four-mile hike.

Our second foray into the park was closer to the Gap, but I didn’t have it in me to start another hike after our eight-mile trek around Muckross Lake.

Our time was running out in Kenmare, and I was beginning to think I’d have to give up on the Gap until I realized that the trailhead lies only seven miles off our path from Kenmare to our next home-from-home on the Dingle Peninsula. Stopping to do a little jaunt on our drive would be a good opportunity to stretch our legs.

As we drove into the valley, a man waved us over to the side of the road. The proud owner of a jaunting car, he gave us the hard sell on why we should allow him to escort us into the gap with his horse and cart. Wary of why he was flagging us down outside the normal confines of the attraction, and in urgent need of finding a place to dispose of some used coffee, we begged off and continued down the road. After taking advantage of the facilities at a gift shop, Marcus politely asked a woman behind the counter if the guy we encountered was legit. Oh, yes! she assured him. All the cart drivers live in the community, know each other, and work together. Their rates should all be the same, and you can trust any of them. We drove back to Sean and his horse, Seamus. Why not? We can walk anywhere, but how often do we get to ride in a jaunting car? Sean was very happy—albeit, surprised—to see us again.

  • our jaunting car
  • onward, Seamus
  • our tour guide, Sean
  • a Chilean pine tree
  • a house, once upon a time
  • Purple Mountain
  • feral goats

An hour, and several Dunloe legends, later Sean dropped us at the end of our chosen tour—four miles into the Gap—and we walked back down the hill to our car.

Everyone was happy: I got to ride in something called a jaunting car, Marcus got to re-take all those out-of-focus shots he took in the jostling jaunting car, we got to stretch our legs a bit, and Sean got to put down another healthy deposit toward his next Disney World vacation. And Seamus? He just lost his 270-pound load, and the walk back to his feedbag was all downhill.

Killarney National Park, Part II

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on the shores of Muckross Lake

The north end of Killarney National Park is distinguishable from the town of Killarney only by the wrought iron fence that surrounds it. Its open pedestrian gates and unrestricted entry give it more the feel of a town park than the sprawling 25,000-acre national park that it is. The park is comprised of two formerly privately owned 19th-century estates. The 11,000-acre Muckross estate was donated to the Free State of Ireland (the Republic, in its infancy) in 1932, creating the first national park in Ireland. A large portion of the almost-adjacent Killarney House estate was sold to the Republic in 1978 under the condition that it would be incorporated into the national park.

the rhodies are just starting to bloom

Today the park is dedicated to the conservation of several distinctive ecosystems: bogs, lakes, moors, mountains, rivers, woodlands, parks, and gardens. Of primary interest are the oak and yew woodlands. Two-thirds of the oak woodlands have been consumed by rhododendrons brought in from the Near East in the early 19th century to provide protective shelter for wild game. One flower can produce 3000-7000 seeds, and the branches take root wherever they touch soil. They absolutely thrive in the acid soil and mild, Gulf Stream climate of the park. The yews are being threatened by over-grazing.

The park has the most extensive covering of native (old growth) forest remaining in Ireland, and it’s home to the only red deer herd on the mainland.

Today we captured it all (minus the red deer) on one eight-mile hike around Muckross Lake, the middle of the three lakes of Killarney. Here’s a selection of what we saw.

  • Muckross Lake with Lough Leane and Killarney town beyond
  • hardwood hammock
  • the bog
  • gorse
  • brown trout & salmon abound
  • saucer magnolia, my old friend!
  • climbing Torc Mountain
  • a fairy pool?
  • leafy trail up Torc
  • Torc Waterfall
  • the verge of Muckross Gardens
  • a popular way to get around…jaunting car!
  • the back of Muckross House

Killarney National Park, Part I

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southern entrance to Killarney National Park

Killarney National Park, more than 25,000 acres of lakes, woodlands, and mountains…. What’s not to love? There was so much I wanted to do in this park, I had to give it two days. 

First priority: Get out in it. The southern approach, from where we’re staying in Kenmare, took us through an incredible glacier-cut valley filled to the brim with spectacular scenery. And, as you can imagine, rollercoaster roads throughout as we rose and fell, dipped and swerved through the terrain.

the three lakes of Killarney

The primary attraction in this neck of the woods is the three lakes of Killarney. From Ladies View (so named because Queen Victoria’s ladies-in-waiting swooned as they took in the view on a visit with Her Majesty in 1861) you can see all three interconnected lakes as they stretch from south to north: Upper Lake, the smallest but highest in altitude; Muckross Lake, the deepest of the three; and way in the distance Lough Leane, by far the largest and the one that graces Killarney town. These three lakes comprise one quarter of the national park by area, and they are definitely swoon-worthy.

MacGillycuddy’s Reeks, Ireland’s tallest mountains, flank the west side of the park

Blown away

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We were having lunch in a pub on our first day exploring Killarney when I overheard snatches of a weather report on TV:  Storm Hannah…drenching rains…hurricane-force winds. “Here?” I asked Marcus. I know it rains a lot on the Wild Atlantic Coast, but hurricane-force winds? We checked it out online when we got back to our cottage in Kenmare. Sure enough, the next day was going to be a good one to be indoors. Sounds like a day off.

the unspoiled Beara hills

When you travel for three months, you need to take a day off from sightseeing at least once a week. Laundry needs to be done, bills need to be paid, yoga needs to be practiced, and, if we’re going to continue to enjoy our travels, downtime needs to be savored. Every now and again, you just need a break.

the Wild Atlantic Coast of Beara

One of my tasks for the day was to map out the weather for the next few days. I had three day-trips in mind, so I checked the forecast for each location. Two of the three were going to be ugly the following day, so by default the Beara Peninsula was our next destination.

Eyeries

There are three fingerling peninsulas that jut out into the Atlantic on the southwest Irish coast. From south to north, they are the Beara; the Iveragh, where the ever popular Ring of Kerry is; and the Dingle, which is growing rapidly in popularity with tourists looking for a little less traffic than Iveragh offers. There wasn’t much in the guidebook to recommend Beara, but it started popping up in conversation with the locals we’ve talked to about our itinerary. “Are you going to visit Beara then? Ah, it’s grand. Very unspoiled and quiet.” I began to sense that it’s where the Irish travel to get away from the tourists. After spending Easter Week in the resort town of Cobh, Beara sounded refreshing. But most importantly, on the day after the storm it was the only place on the west coast where the sun was expected to shine.

as the Greeks would say, many sheep upon the water today

Hannah ushered in a cold front, and the day after her visit the temperature as we left Kenmare was 40 degrees. No sweat (literally), as long as it’s not raining. We drove down the north side of the Beara peninsula, along the Kenmare River—a collection of cute little fishing villages linked by the longest, windiest road in Europe, so they say. The river is more like a long bay between two peninsulas. We could see the Iveragh Peninsula across the way. I could imagine all the Ring of Kerry tourists, climbing down off their tour buses and gazing back at us from the other side. I waved into the haze.

the southwestern tip of the Beara Peninsula

But the most amazing views of the entire drive were at the far end of the peninsula. We rounded a bend in the road and descended a steep hill toward the village of Allihies. Nothing but mountains, farms, and the Wild Atlantic. We were blown away.

Beara farm