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Thursday, Nov 21,
2002
The
rugged Dingle coastline.
The west of Ireland, so marked by cliffs like the ones above,
seems to be proclaiming,
"Ireland ends here, not in a submissive slope, but
in a defiant and sharp precipice."
Nov. 21, 2002
From Dun Beg our
next stop was the clochans. Scattered all round Dingle,
clochans were little stone dwellings that looked like igloos,
round and tapered on the outside and square on the inside,
that served as houses for inhabitants of the peninsula, from
the Celts to the Christian monks who found in Dingle a
remote-enough place to live.
This particular
group consisted of five clochans, including a double one, in
various states of preservation. Two still had their roofs, and
we were able to test their effectiveness as rain started to
fall and we ran into one of them. While the wind blew outside,
inside the clochan only the hint of a breeze was felt, water
did not seep in except whatever blew in through the door
(which would have been covered with a skin or something,
and the temperature was noticeably warmer than outside; a cap
stone and a small fire, and this clochan could go on the
market as a "rustic" dwelling.
Yvette
inside a clochan. Yvette is in the back room of
the clochan,
while Danny took the picture from the front room.
Nov. 21, 2002
Danny
inside a clochan (note the mud
stain on the left leg from when
he fell back in Dun Beg).
Nov. 21, 2002
We continued with
our trip, headed towards Slea Head, but we had to stop for
this shot. Dingle, and the area of Kerry in general, was one
of the hardest hit areas during the famine. Dozens of ruined
"famine" cottages dot the fields, mute witnesses to
a horrible time in the history of this beautiful land. Note in
the picture below the small size of the windows (mostly
boarded) for the house; families during this time were taxed
based on the size of their windows, so that families reduced
them to the smallest possible size in order to conserve what
little money they had. The ruins provide yet one more piece to
the tapestry of great highs and great lows that is
Ireland.
The ruins
of a famine house. The barren hill behind has
been like that
since the potato crop failed and the famine began;
up close one can
see the rows of rotted potatoes still in the ground.
Nov. 21, 2002
We finally arrived
at Slea Head, an observation point marked by a pullout, a
giant crucifix (right behind us in the picture below) and a
great view of the coast and Blasket Islands. Not quite the
westernmost point in Dingle, it is nonetheless impressive. The
waves were pounding in with amazing force, leaving a white
foam that lingered, solidified, like a welcoming carpet. The
mist shoots up like from a volcano, giving the whole area a
hazy quality that makes you not doubt any story of faeries or
selkies you may hear.
Yvette at
the observation point at Slea Head
(yes, it was that cold and
windy!).
The Great Blasket Island looms in the
back.
Nov. 21, 2002
The Blasket Islands
are the last refuge of a traditional way of life virtually
unknown in Ireland today. While the inhabitants were expelled
from the island in the early part of the 20th century, some
have returned and currently seek to go back to their
traditional way of life. While in Dingle, be sure to pick up
some of the books on stories from the Blasket Islands; it is
Irish storytelling at its finest (see the Links
section for more info).
A
reflected rainbow at Dunquin Harbor.
Nov. 21, 2002
From Slea Head we
continued on our tour, passing by Dunquin Harbor and Dunmore
Head (the actual westernmost point in Ireland, and Europe),
and snapping the picture above. Rainbows in Dingle are free
and come by the dozens, appearing all around as if playing
"peek-a-boo" with you. Once in a while, however,
you'll manage to catch one nice enough to let itself be
photographed.
I can certainly see
how this land snatched so many traveler's hearts, and keeps
them coming back for more.
Next: Dingle, next page (3)
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