Tag Archives: Killarney National Park

Connemara

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view of Ballynakill Harbour and Barnaderg Bay from Diamond Hill

Connemara, the wild, remote wilderness of Irish-speaking Galway. Just the name conjures images of The Quiet Man, which was filmed not far away in east Galway. We looked forward to seeing what glories Connemara National Park had to offer. Reading up on it before we got there, we didn’t see anything mentioned other than a walk up Diamond Hill. Well, there had to be more than that. It’s a national park, for Pete’s sake, and one of only six in the country. We’d just go and see what else they’ve got.

Diamond Hill surrounded by typical Irish grassland

We asked at the visitor center and found that the hike up Diamond Hill really is all they have to offer. No exhibits in the visitors center. No informational plaques outside. Just a walk. 

An interesting note: No matter how taxing the hike, the Irish (and Brits too, we observed when we were in the UK) called them walks, as in a walk in the park. You can ascend 1200 feet over two hours (e.g. Diamond Hill) and it’s still called a walk, although they do acknowledge it’s a “strenuous” walk. That’s one difference between Americans and the Irish. In the US we’d be plastering bumper stickers on our cars saying “I climbed Diamond Hill.” In Ireland they tell their friends “I went on the loveliest walk this afternoon. It was grand.” I just love their understatement!

We opted out of the strenuous part of the walk, but hiked up far enough to get great views of Ballynakill Harbour and Barnaderg Bay, and it was still a good stretch in the fresh country air.

We started to encounter marshy wetlands.

And as we walked, we gradually began to realize something about the park that we hadn’t seen mentioned. The area surrounding Diamond Hill is all bogland. We noticed the reed-filled ponds and the lumpy tufts of grass that we had seen in Killarney National Park’s bog. After gaining a bit of altitude, we saw fields below us where peat was being harvested—the telltale plateaus of turf where vertical slices of peat were being removed like slivers of dark chocolate cake, one layer at a time. The water running in the streams was brown from the tannins leaching out of the peat. And much of the walk was on boardwalk to prevent people from walking on the bog and destroying the fragile habitat.

The color of the landscape changed from vibrant green to rusty brown.
multiple layers of turf in peat fields
peat, or turf, on the banks of this tannin-brown stream

The walk was a series of “aha” moments as we put it all together. Why hadn’t they said something about the bog, talked it up, showcased it for unenlightened visitors, used this beautiful park as an educational opportunity? Perhaps it was another case of Irish understatement. Just get out there and walk in it, and you’ll see what you see. Isn’t it grand?

Connemara ponies

This Connemara pony and her foal grazed amid the midges, annoying flying insects that will suck the blood out of your flesh and the wits out of your head. The mom’s tail was moving non-stop to keep them at bay, and her foal took refuge under her fan. Smart little lad!

Even Connemara lambs have horns. This one can’t be more than a few months old and already has quite a bit of growth.

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