Days 30-32

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Day 30: Doolin-Glencar

Off to the cliffs of Moher, which were truly high and with many buses – the tourist season is not far away. The roads wind around and are as usual not sign-posted all that well. It took most of the day to reach Glencar, and the further we went the wilder the country. Glencar House Hotel originated as a hunting lodge built in 1620 and added to in the nineteenth century. Situated in the middle of extensive woodlands, it is a one a half star establishment, according to Liam the manager (in joking mode), and it is a very homely, friendly place. Besides us there were twelve English people, a group (possibly on a Tory party branch outing) from the same village in Worcestershire who were there for a week of fishing and walking. They had very plummy accents and appeared to be all retired and comfortably off, according to the conversation. They were very friendly and great company, and when they found out I wanted to ride they asked if I would like to come with a group of them the next day.

The English group had been away before, to Patagonia on a horse riding trip some seven years ago, which sounded rather jolly. The men this time tried their hand at fishing, to catch two fish, each of about 9 lbs. One poor bloke, who we found was a squilllionaire, tried so hard but didn’t catch anything. They had come across on the ferry and brought equipment for all activities: walking boots, gaiters, sticks, rods, riding gear. And, of course, Wellington, a little Jack Russell but a bigger version than in Australia, and a black Lab, Tamar. Both travelled on the ferry and wandered all day around the hotel in the restaurant and especially loved the open peat fire.

Liam self-deprecatingly described his guest house as a bit like Fawlty Towers and once or twice that was our impression: lukewarm water the first day, bed not made the second, a dinner order mixed up and some real local characters, frequently named Paddy, on staff and in the bar at night. Paddy I (the handyman) had spent 35 years in England yet his speech was still very difficult to understand. Paddy II appeared each night in the bar and engaged all and sundry in conversation. We think he gave a lot of useful local advice, but his combination of broad accent, protruding teeth and head-down delivery made Paddy I sound like John Gielgud.

Liam and Eilis, partners who have run Glencar for the last 12 months, are great: the Cork and Kerry accents are very strong and Liam’s voice and manner of speaking are a bit reminiscent of Dylan Moran. Eilis, an absolute delight, among other tasks plays the piano by ear and puts in with the cooking and cleaning. Both were once estate agents, but this seems to be their calling. The food is homely, absolutely fresh and you can request mains – I asked for fish and next day had the most delicious fresh Atlantic salmon. Twice at dinner and once at breakfast, deer pranced past, maybe twenty metres from the dining-room window.

After dinner, a lovely sing-song around the fire, with Eilis at the piano, was great fun.


Day 31 Glencar

Off for a walk around Lough Acoose. We took Liam’s clear directions with us and off we went, fully prepared with waterproofs and hats. We started on the track through farmland greeted by an elderly lady living in a very isolated farm. The track across farmland became a sheep track and then a barely perceptible scatter of rocks. The direction to “follow the path” started to seem a little optimistic. The ground, thanks to rain over the last few days, was wet, and we found out what bogs are, sinking down to our ankles in parts. Eventually we had to turn back, but the views we had reached were gorgeous: the wild country to which sheep cling is very reminiscent of the Scottish highlands and just as cold. The whole walk around the Lough was supposed to take 1½ hours, and we turned back after 2½ having made it about half way around.

On discussion with the English people we decided there is something wrong with the length of walks in the Glencar booklet. They had started on a three-hour walk which ended up 6 hours, with a dog having to be carried in a backpack. Most of them were older than us, yet so very fit! They think nothing of walking all day and are prepared for it. Bill, who told me he was 73 and hunts with his new horse, had returned from a month in France and Spain doing a 500-mile pilgrim walk by himself!

The after-dinner drink of poteen was another experience – Liam gave us a sample taste of this locally distilled stuff which was absolutely lethal – just a sip was plenty.


Day 32 Glencar

While Andrew set off on various errands in Killorglin, including a visit to the library to check on Collingwood v. Geelong (Glencar is online only via a dial-up in the office), we went off for our trail ride at Glenbeigh, a little village down the road near the coast. The horses were mostly gypsy cobs and very sturdy. Jeannie had already explained to Gerard that I needed the quietest horse because of my knee. I got Tom, a lovely horse but he wanted to always be behind Gerard, leaving me feeling not very much in control. I would not like to be a raw beginner, as Gerard often has riding these horses – they were not exactly the plodders I had in mind. We moved along at a great walk but did a considerable amount of trotting which was OK till I got off! Poor old knee went well but there are other muscles that need to be stretched more as well. We rode up through a forest and then down a VERY STEEP two-way road beside the Bay of Dingle: the view was magnificent as we watched the gannets dive and fish, but this was the steepest I have ever ridden, with a sheer drop on the other side of a wire fence. Tom, thankfully, seemed to understand, and chose to walk as near the inside as possible. Then cars would pass us with at least three inches to spare behind each horse’s rump. Gerard thought nothing of it and enthusiastically waved the cars through.

We reached the beach, where Gerard had planned a loo and knee stop for me, then a ride along the beach where Ryan’s Daughter was filmed, a splash through the estuary and back along the road to the end of the ride. Off to the pub for lunch with all the English crowd and back for a hot bath and a bit of a snooze.

After dinner was (again) a rather late and festive night. We learned a little of Worcestershire village life (which seems a little under threat – they have recently had to form a voluntary co-op to keep their local store alive), and our English comrades a little of ours.

- Helen

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Comments

[D MJ Binkley]

Cliffs of Moher
I've enjoyed reading your blog and checking out your photos! Not sure I would have wanted to walk across that foot bridge over the stream.