IRELAND DAY 4 - CASTLES ON THE ROAD TO CLONAKILTY

After breakfast at the hotel, we take our leave from Allison and Steve, trading their slick Q7 for a bitty Opal Corsa.  Even renting something this small, Mandy bets we lose a mirror before we return it in Dublin.  Fortunately, I had a bit of practice driving on the wrong side of the road this past February in Grand Cayman.  Adding a manual transmission to the mix only promises to add to the fun.

The four of us, Mandy, me and both mirrors, successfully wind our way through the tiny, twisty roads for the first 40 minutes until we finally hit the M8, the modern highway that takes us the rest of the way to County Tipperary.  Our first stop this morning is the Rock of Cashel, also known as Saint Patrick’s Rock.  Hosting over 1000 years of history, this high bluff is home to an impressive array of medieval structures and the even more impressive story of how they came to be and be lost.  We hang in with the tour for a while, then sneak off to explore on our own.

Peckish from exploring, we hit a little butcher/deli on the main street of Cashel before we make our way back on to M8 southwest towards Blarney.  Mandy’s mom and dad are very well traveled, having honeymooned in Cuba, and subsequently toured extensively in the USA and Europe.  One of the very few things Her dad talks about with passion from his journeys is, of all things, kissing the Blarney Stone.  Today we’re going to stop in and see if Mandy can recreate an image from Sid’s past.  We pull into this insanely popular attraction and find a virtually empty parking lot and a total of zero busses.  This is good, because, although Mandy had heard great things about the grounds and gardens we’re only so committed to the rest of this venture.

Blarney Castle isn’t the biggest, oldest, most important or most impressive castle in Ireland, but it is the best marketed, a staple of Irish tours for generations and known by people around the globe if they’ve been here or not.  So of course we’re skeptical… tourist trap, here we come.  We breeze in with no wait, and, wow, it’s nice here.  The gardens are beautiful, there’s nice trails for a bit of light hiking, and it’s accessible to everyone.  We have fun exploring the castle and only bump into a few other tourists along the way.  We especially like the tight spiral staircases, the kitchen (where they not only cook meals, but boil the oil for unwelcome intruders) and the “murder hole”, a grate in a small chamber above the front entrance for finishing whoever got past the hot oil treatment.  We get to the top and there’s only three people in front of us to kiss the stone.  We recreate the image and send it on to Mandy’s folks.  Immediately, we receive a rare phone call from Sid speaking more excitedly than we’ve heard him in a long time.  I really need to reassess my cynicism.

Nest stop is Kinsale, a charming seaside village in the south of Ireland.  We park and set out on the Scilly Walk, an out-and-back trail passing through town then along the water’s edge providing great views of both ancient forts in the harbor.  After the Scilly, we wander until we find ourselves in Kitty O’Se’s for a pint (oops, how did that happen?).

The Wild Atlantic Way is a brilliant coastal route along Irelands west coast, the Celtic version of the Pacific Coast Highway, and constantly ranked among the greatest drives in the world.  Today we get our first taste of the WAW, driving from Kinsale to Clonakilty.  Even on this first segment, it lives up to the hype.  Winding roads, barely one-and-a-half cars wide, with tight turns and sweeping views around every bend.  We’re going to be spending most of the next week on this drive, and we can’t wait.

After checking into the Clonakilty Park Hotel, we venture out for dinner.  We usually have a reservation in our pocket, just in case, but this trip we decided to wing it more.  Just pop into pubs until someone with a good menu will have us.  We stop into Con and Maura’s, an authentic joint in the middle of town, and ask the barman if they serve food.  They don’t, but after a few moments consideration, he recommends Au Sugan (pronounced aww shoo-GAN) a few block away.  We score a couple of bar seats and the bartender takes drink orders and leaves menus.  She’s pulling triple duty, slinging drinks, taking orders and running food, as the place starts to fill up, about 50/50 locals and travelers.  She handles it all with ease and grace and even figures out how to have a friendly conversation and provide good recommendations to each table.  Mandy and I split everything so we can taste more of the menu, and the first course is the seafood chowder.  Big chunks of local fish and seafood, plenty of fresh dill and a light cream base, all served piping hot to take the edge off the evening chill.   Between courses, we strike up conversation with a local couple who just stopped in for a drink and we have a few laughs despite their having just come from a funeral.  Next course is brown crab claws, what we know as Scoobies in Florida, served with crab salad.  The claws are cracked and fried in garlic butter and are scrumptious.  Final course is black sole, caught just this morning by local fishermen.  It’s pan seared, skin on, in garlic and oil and finished with a bit lemon and a few capers and completes the best meal we have had in Ireland to date.  We finish the night back at Con and Maura’s for a final pint.  Great little town.