Islay to Cork - Day 14 - Voyage to Dingle

After leaving Inishbofin on September 19th - see the last post - we motored five hours south to the Aran Isles. It was dark by the time we arrived at Kilronan, the main harbour on Inishmore. It had been 25 years since I'd last been here and, in the dark, things looked a lot different. A large pier had been built. It was lit with massive bright lights that made Kilronan look like a container port. Not very appealing. But in the morning things were different. It was still the beautiful Inishmore of my memories. On the hillside I could see the imposing 11th century Chapel of St Bennan. I would have loved to hike up there once again as I'd done in 1994, but time was short. There'd be no shore leave - we needed to make it 100 miles to Dingle by the end of the day.

A young visitor at St Bennan's Chapel in 1994

It would turn out to be well more than 100 miles to Dingle, as we'd end up circumnavigating Inishtooskert, one of the Blasket islands, on the lookout for cetaceans. The route we took is shown below.

The weather was amazing, and on the way to the Blaskets were were joined by dozens of joyful dolphins taking turns riding the bow wave. The most impressive sight was when a large blue shark jetted past, effortlessly zig-zagging on the surface of the sea like a hot knife through butter. It was moving fast. By the time I got out the camera it had vanished.

The island of Inishtooskert soon appeared on the horizon. At first glance I thought it was Skellig Michael, but the Skelligs lie another 25 miles to the south. Inishtooskert is home to one of the largest Storm Petrel populations in Ireland. It is also home to the ruins of a 6th century monastery of St Brendan.

Inishtooskert

As we circumnavigated Inishtookert all my fellow passengers were on the lookout for cetaceans, as this was about as far out in the ocean as we were going to get. Several minkies make an appearance, along with dozens of dolphins in a feeding frenzy - soaring gulls happy to munch on floating leftovers. On the horizon we also saw several 'blows', probably fin whales. But after lingering for an hour we had no further cetacean close encounters.

I have to admit that my attention was not on seeing whales, but on Inishtooskert itself, yet another elusive island that I've wanted to set foot on for years - one that would have to remain untrod for the time being. As we neared the island I tried to see if I could spot the monastery, but its location atop the island makes it difficult to spot from the sea. (See this page for a photo of one of the cells.)

Inishtooskert

As we rounded the south tip of Inishtooskert a small pyramid appeared in the haze to the south: Skellig Micheal. If we had more time we'd go take a look. But it, too, was not to be.

Skellig on the horizon

Leaving Inishtooskert behind we threaded our way through Blasket Sound, the narrow channel between Great Blasket and the mainland.

Great Blasket

We only had fifteen miles to go. The weather was holding, and along the way several day-boats zipped by on their way back to Dingle. Phantom pains hit my back as I watched the boats bouncing hard across the sea. I was vicariously reliving my trips on such high-speed RIBs. I used to enjoy them, but the repeated spine-crunching jolts when they crash back down are too much for me these days.

As we rounded Slea Head I could see the large white cross and shrine on the headland. A well-known landmark for anyone who's driven the Dingle coast road.

Continuing east we passed Glen Fahan, a mile-long stretch of hillside that contains over a hundred beehive cells. (The original Airbnbs - more on that in the next post.) I did not know it at the time, but on the following day I would walk through that area.

Beehive cell cluster west of Glen Fahan

Beehive cell cluster east of Glen Fahan

The entry to Dingle Harbour is dramatic. Marked by an unusual cast-iron lighthouse built in 1885, the entrance is an almost hidden channel, 600 feet wide, that leads to a large sheltered harbor nearly a mile across.

No anchoring needed here. A spot at the marina had been booked. At 7 pm, under a cloudless but windy sky, we tied up to an outer berth on the pontoons. After two days of sea-travel a long walk was in order. So I was glad to hear that, due to the strong winds, we'd be spending two nights in Dingle. The forecast was for more sunshine; and as for what to do with a whole sunny day in Dingle, the answer was an easy one: I'd walk a section of the Dingle Way - a 100-mile trail that begins and ends in Tralee. The section I wanted to do is the 10-mile stretch between Slea Head and Dingle. In the morning I would see if I could get a taxi out to Slea Head, and then walk the trail back to town; visiting along the way the beehive cell clusters of Glen Fahan and the white sands of Ventry Bay (and hopefully a pub or two along the way).

Our meal that Thursday night was an excellent venison stew, followed by a pub crawl, where we enjoyed live music and pints galore. Lots was going on in town that night. I'd tell you more but, as they say: What happens in Dingle, stays in Dingle.

As I ambled back to the marina that night I came to its locked security gate, meant to keep riff-raff like me away. After punching in the code nothing happened. I began to look for a way to climb around the pointy spikes protruding around the gate. As I did, I wondered how many drunken sailors, having forgotten the code, have tried to climb around the gate and fallen into the water. But I tried the code one more time and the gate magically swung open (power assist gates - such luxury). From there I managed to navigate in the dark across the maze of pontoons to find Hjalmar Bjorge, warm and welcoming. After a dram of Talisker I hopped up into my berth, looking forward to what the next day would bring.