This was to be a hiking day. We were all up at a decent hour, had breakfast at home, packed some sandwiches, cheese and crackers and headed out around 10am. We were heading for Loch Cloon. And we also wanted to check out a possible 'secret inner passage' for our departure tomorrow - a route that woulld let us avoid the Ring of Kerry and its tour busses as we headed for county Wicklow on Saturday.
It was an exciting drive. The first half hour was a lovely road, one of the
best we'd driven on the Iveragh peninsula - wide, smooth, and almost no traffic
- and nary a bus. Then the road headed uphill and narrowed. Soon we encountered
road construction with large machines at work- further narrowing the road. We
made it past and on to the top - to the Ballagisheen Pass, Glencar - the highlands
of Kerry as Theresa points out:
The pass was dramatic, dropping abruptly to the north, with the MacGilliycuddys
Reeks to the north and east. The road down from the pass took several quick
hairpin turns but you could see several miles down the road before our little
caravan began the descent..
After the tiniest bit of wandering around (ok, we were lost), we reached the
Climber's Inn at Glencar - the 'trailhead' for our hike. (There is a hiking
version of the Ring of Kerry and this path is part of that.) Before setting
off, we had a quick round of cheese and crackers to keep us from getting famished.
Kit did the honors with her usual efficiency:
We hiked for about 20 minutes down a pleasant, level path until it crossed the road we'd come in on so we turned around to retrace our steps and take an uphill path we'd passed on our way in. Joe and Johnny led the way uphill. Not more than 5 minutes into this branch, there was an uproar and Johnny and Joe came back down the trail, leaping and running as a fierce, territorial border collie nipped at their heels.
We sent two boys out to scout
They had to find the best route
A hound they did rankle
Who snapped at an ankle
They both did a quick turnabout.
We decided to try another path. But first - time for a snack at the Climber's Inn.
It had the feel of a mountain ski lodge.
We had the usual order of Guinness and cokes- here resting before being served.
The boys had sandwiches and then we set off to Loch Cloon (known to the locals as Lake Cloon.) It was only a 20 minute drive, including wrong turns, before we saw the long lake surrounded by green hills - with 'the Reeks' looming in the background.
We started at the low point of the lake, where it rushed out under a stone bridge.
The cold wind coming down off the mountains and lake caused us all to put on
jackets and sweaters.
The lake is long and narrow, perhaps a half mile across and several miles long,
connecting at the far end to another lake. Black faced Scottish sheep were all
along the path.
We went through perhaps 4 gates, dividing the hills into slices with fences
running from the lake to the tops of the cliffs.
The boys spent much time heaving large stones into the lake and practicing their
sheep imitations.
The twelve of us spread out along the path as we each chose our best pace. Groups
forming and dispersing as we strolled along admiring sheep, mountains, lake.
People straggled, strolled, and stopped - as needed - to enjoy the hike and
attend to their impulses. John's limerick notes one aspect of that:
A shepherd on the hills of Lake Cloon
Was resting and humming a tune
When what did he spot
But three Kanes in a squat
Just imagine Lake Cloon with three moons.
We hiked for two hours or more, then headed back to Waterville for dinner. Got to the Lobster Bar around 5, famished.
Crowded the 12 into the front room, ordered our usual beverages and various fish dishes. Except for the boys who had the 'famous' Maneaters hamburgers - beef, bacon, mushrooms, tomatoes, onions, secret sauce. The best burger Johnnie ever had!
Back to the house to catch our breath and do a bit of cleaning and packing for
our departure the next morning.
The oldest eight walked over to Tig Rosie at exactly 9:30 for our last visit
in Ballenskellig. The usual group of older men at the left end of the bar were
chatting away in Gaelic as we took our seats under the Sacred Heart candle and
painting. A typical small, quiet crowd at Rosie's. But the crowd kept coming
in. By the end of the evening - around midnight - the pub was completely packed.
Perhaps 100 people. Mostly over fifty but with a scattering of younger folks. No music blaring, no tv or videos. Just people talking. By the end of the eveing,the hum of conversation rose to nearly a happy roar. Such a pleasant contrast to bars with loud music.After a happy chat about the day, we left about half after twelve to finish packing for our move to Wicklow the next morning.