Day 4: Dingle to Dunquin (25km)

According to our numerous guide books, today’s walk was meant to be 21km. While we noted the ‘strenuous’ rating, we thought ‘strenuous’ would be in terms of the muddy terrain, the long winding inclines and declines, the crossings of streams, the beach walk and staying upright in a brisk wind on a rocky headland, but one ‘strenuous’ factor we didn’t take into account was that we expected to walk 21km not 25km. This distance was confirmed by not one, not two, but three of our party with GPS watches. Not that we’re complaining (too much) because every kilometre was worth the effort, but those last few kilometres were on the taxing side (particularly as not one, not two, but three of our party continued to compare (every few steps) their GPS watch totals.

Today’s ups and downs and things that we found interesting might be shorter than usual because Mr Darcy, with an extraordinarly long suffering harrumph, has switched off the light, but I’ll give it a go.

The Good:

Basic meals are delicious when you are desperate for a break. How fresh! (two days old). How appetising! (a lump of cheese and a cracker). How filling! (two liquorice all-sorts, a jelly-baby and a brazil nut). There is also gratitude when the weather isn’t as abysmal as it was on day three. “If it were any warmer (Kitty pulls her hood over her head before shoving her hands in her pockets and stamping her feet)," I’d be unattractively flushed when I climbed the next mountain.” “If it weren’t so cold (Mr Wickham drops to the ground and performs a series of push-ups) I wouldn’t be so buff.” “Pass the smelling salts, the sun is out and my complexion will be ruined” (Mrs Bennet).

The Bad:

I once asked a tradesman to remove wood panelling in a hallway, which I thought made it look cramped and dark. He stared at me in horror because he loved the wood panelling. But when I insisted it be taken away he said: ‘One man’s meat is another man’s poison.’ This was annoying at the time on various bases, but the phrase stayed with me. Why is it relevant here?

Being a woman relatively short of leg, I have mountain goat tendencies. Send me up a semi-vertical slope, intersected by giant granite boulders, occasional bogs and clumps of fern, and I am in my element. But send the even tempered Mr Bingley up there (let alone Mr Collins), and he will complain about the slippery mud, the unevenness of the surface, the unpredictability of the path and the length of the journey.

In other words, today’s walk was more suited to some than to others. But one thing we agreed on was that the views coming into Great Blasket Island were wonderful, and could only be truely appreciated from our vantage point, just below the clouds.

The Adventure:

Ruins

There are no pubs (or shops or anything much else except for exceptional views) in Dunquin. But there are pretty painted cottages, and the occasional B&B. There are also structures (pictured) that go back to approximately 500 BC which is quite remarkable. Also remarkable is their accessibility - not that we disturbed any stones, but sheep happily grazed amongst the ruins.

A lament

We came across a sheep lying prostate on the track. The poor animal had lost an eye (big black crows - say no more) which became additionally unsettling because Mary was certain the sheep was still breathing. When finally convinced this was simply the movement of the sheep’s wool in the wind, Mary was keen to perform a burial but alas we had no resources. A recitation of the Irish blessing and we were on our way again.

May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
The rains fall soft upon your fields.

Accomodation

Tonight’s accomodation is very pleasant, but our shower is a pre-fabricated rectangular prism roughly the size of a modest upright coffin with (once you are inside said coffin) an inward opening shower screen. Leave the screen open to adjust the heat or cold before you get in? Uh uh. After walking 25km (including a bonus 4km), it’s an effort to bend one’s knee let alone perform the double half pike flip required to adjust the temperature until you’re well and truly under the gushing stream.

Dinner

Fortunately, there is a solitary pub which we were very grateful for. But when each piece of fish in the fish and chip offering is the exact same size, one wonders if renowned Irishman John West was involved in the preparation of said fish. Happily though, the lager was chilled, as was the chardy, and there was a very friendly crowd at the public house.

Black pudding, white pudding, mushy peas and apples

Black pudding has blood in it (nothing more need be said). White pudding doesn’t have blood in it. Mushy peas are like an Australian avocado dip (with a very similar consistency). On the bright side, apples are sometimes left at the side of the road and passersby are told to help themselves - the apples are crisp and delicious!

Finally, another coastal walk on Day 5. After a good night’s sleep, we’ll be on the road again.