A Tingle for Your Dingle

MMC :: in August 28, 2015 :: in Ireland :: 1 comment

We’re trying to find a day that’s neither windy nor promises to rain in the afternoon. In the mean time, we have other activities that aren’t so weather-dependent, including more driving about—including, as I mentioned yesterday, down the Dingle peninsula. 

Inch Strand

Let me attempt to convey it with pictures and panoramas. 

Downnn…into the ditch!

The sea and the surf

More tablecloths

The lower depths

And the tiny roads we took to reach them

That road there is your typical two-way, 80km/h road in Ireland. Daddy thanked me for all the driving that I’ve been doing, and I told him that it’s fun—hopefully not at his expense. I said I tried for one time each day to get his adrenaline going and make sure he’s still paying attention, and he agreed. 

As we drove, I saw something…

This most certainly must be climbed

Quite

Rocky heather

So worth it

It was so windy up here that I literally had to hold on with one hand in order to take this picture. But I didn’t care. I was standing on top of the highest point around, and whenever that’s the case it’s hard not to be glad. 

What I failed to realise in my excitement and my running across the way in order to scramble up these rocks was that there’s a side entrance. 

Mick champion

No hands!

Wind whipping everything

The path was pretty on the way down, too. 

Atlantic way

Dingle-dangle

Daddy descending

We stopped for a sheep, who really couldn’t be bothered to move, so I eventually just inched (ha!) around. 

Baa-ad move

Our eventual destination was a pub recommended by Gwen as the best place to get a Guinness out here (thanks, Gwen!). 

Foxy John’s. Most important is that top word there: bar

The bar

The less popular counter, on the hardware store half

Yep. It’s half bar, half hardware store. What more could you need?

Daddy was crying laughing trying to disentangle the unintelligible speech of the locals as the town drunk wandered in (in dapper hat, I might add), commenced to complain and swear profusely at the barkeep, and wandered back out in a bit, allowing us all to stop holding in our laughter. The gent sitting next to me asked if anyone could get away swearing like that at the keep where I come from, and I answered probably not. 

Hopefully the weather holds tomorrow, but if not, then we’ll make do. Off now to find some dinner, and potentially some pints after.