It took me a very long time to edit these photos for this blog post. I had actually gone through and selected almost 200 pictures and had edited/resized half of them when I gave up. I was frustrated with how terrible they were turning out — as I told Kathleen on the phone the other night, the photos on my screen were not at all matching up to the photos I had in my mind.

Long story short, I managed to teach myself Lightroom during the course of editing these Ireland photos. So they’re terribly delayed, but it’s worth it. The end result is true to my memory of that beautiful country.

In the earliest stages of planning this trip, back when I wasn’t part of it, the plan had been to split time evenly between the UK and Ireland. Kathleen, in particular, felt (and still feels) a very spiritual connection to Ireland, so this was the part of the trip she was most anticipating. In the end, we set aside 8 days (08 July to 16 July) to tour Ireland and Northern Ireland.

We had trouble planning this portion of the trip. We had originally decided to travel by train, but as we mapped out our destinations based on our preferences and the recommendations of friends and family who had traveled there, we realized that traveling by train would be too rigid. We decided once again to rent a car, which meant I’d be driving once more.

We landed around midday, and we were delayed at Hertz as they had failed to reserve a car for us. After they tried to stick us in a large van (I almost had a heart attack) we were finally placed in a little Honda; despite its tiny size, it was still bigger than the Audi we’d rented in England, thus it still terrified me. I adjusted much faster this time, though.

We immediately pointed the car at the Rock of Cashel, on the recommendation of one of Kathleen’s friends.

Some of it was being reconstructed, and we arrived about an hour before closing, but that was still plenty of time to walk around. They show a film in a small theater room about the history and mythology surrounding the building.

It was our first real view of Ireland’s countryside.

It was so peaceful and tranquil to just sit there for a few minutes and soak in the view.

An accurate depiction of how windy it was up on the Rock.

That round tower is the oldest standing structure on the site, and the roof of the cathedral was removed in the 1700’s because, like, do cathedrals even need roofs? (Answer: yeah, turns out they do.)

And I just really liked taking pictures under these “mind your head” signs to send back to Justin and taunt him about how his gigantism will be a drawback to his future travels. Best wife ever!

After we’d had our fill of the historic site, we wandered around the town of Cashel, but we were too late to visit the Heritage Center. (Curse you, Dublin Airport Hertz center!)

Then it was time to continue our drive to the Travelodge we’d booked in Limerick. We chose that so that we would be in close proximity to Cork and the Ring of Kerry, but not so far south that our drive to the Cliffs of Moher would be interminable. Location-wise, it was perfect.

We checked in and then walked down the street for dinner. I ordered the authentic Irish dish known as chicken wings, and my travel mates ordered beers.

And I got a picture of Mum getting a picture of Kathleen —

We are so wacky.

The next day was set aside for Cork and Blarney Castle, but first, breakfast!

I affectionately refer to this picture as “NOSE” because hello, schnoz. We ate at this Rockin’ Joes diner every morning during our Limerick stay because it was attached to our hotel and we couldn’t have found better breakfast prices. Sure, it was a little weird to sit in an American-style diner in Limerick, Ireland, but the food definitely wasn’t American, and anyway, as I’ll detail later, I had a lot of trouble eating in Ireland. I was grateful for these meals.

After breakfast, we headed south to Cork.

If you don’t know anything about the Blarney Stone, it means there’s a really good chance you don’t have any Irish heritage. I have very early memories of stories about the Blarney Stone, and I think it’s because our priest was a first-generation Irish immigrant, so a lot of the Christian folklore crept into his sermons. Possibly my dad made a bunch of references and jokes to it, too. Either way, the Blarney Stone was a lot more normalized to me than it was to peers when I mentioned visiting Blarney Castle, as I was met with blank or polite expressions as they waited for me to explain more. So:

Legend has it that if you kiss the Blarney Stone, you’re imbibed with the gift of gab. In my painfully shy childhood, I longed for the chance to kiss the stone and gain the ability to talk to people. Eventually, it turned into one of Those Things I’ll Probably Never Do, like seeing the glass ceiling in Brussels or visiting Stow-on-the-Wold in England. Just odd weird things that ended up coming full circle for me on this trip.

But somehow, through all the years of hearing the legend, I never actually learned about the ritual itself. It turns out I had to conquer a few fears in order to achieve that kiss.

There were all sorts of coins in the river, so I dropped an American quarter and Kathleen dropped a Euro coin.

Just beyond the little bridge was the Cherry Walk.

This was apparently some sort of street art called “yarn bombing” that was popular a couple of years ago. The effect is striking! Every tree had a different knitted pattern.

This is the first imposing view of the castle as you walk up on it. As most of our days in Ireland went, the day presented as foggy and overcast.

There are tunnels running under the castle, and Kathleen and I ventured in as far as we could, and I was growling “Gollum! Gollum!” more than was strictly necessary.

Oh man, my face was so weird and puffy that day. Plane bloat is real, y’all, and these photos are proof.

The watch tower in front of the castle is just gorgeous.

Seriously, that looks like it’s straight out of a movie, doesn’t it?

It was time to get in line to kiss the stone, which includes a winding tour of the castle. If you ever go to Blarney Castle (and you should) be prepared to make friends with people in line around you. You’re all in it together, and you’re all in it for a while.

But first:

Mum: “Okay, look over here for a picture!”

Us: *pose*

Mum: “Oh wait, hang on –”

Us:

It happened a lot. A lot. And to be fair, it was mostly her phone’s fault, not hers.

This was when we realized that we’d be climbing up, up, up on narrow staircases and battlements while being virtually trapped by the people around us. There’s a pretty early point where you just can’t turn around — if you continue, you’re there through the stone and on. Kathleen and I are pretty scared of heights, and even after our adventures in Frankfurt and Reykjavik, we were a little apprehensive.

There are some gorgeous old rooms with craggy stones and plants growing through cracks, but it’s all dark enough that I couldn’t get good pictures of most of it. We stood still in line often enough to get some pictures of the low doorways, though.

Reminder: I’m 5’4″.

The view from one of the windows.

Then it was time to climb a tight spiral staircase. This is when Kathleen really started getting vocal about how frightened she was. The stairs were narrow and slippery, people were stopping suddenly, and we were ducking pretty often. That’s when the Australian man in front of us started turning around to tease us.

Pretty early on, he started calling Kathleen, “Oh my God,” because of how many times she was yelling that as we climbed. It became a running joke as he’d turn to me and say “Will you tell Oh my God that we’re nearly at the top?”

At one point on the spiral staircase, he saw my death grip on the step in front of me (yes, I was white-knuckling a stone step with one hand and the rope with the other) and said, “Will you stop gripping the step like that? You’re not climbing a mountain!”

He might’ve thought we were being dramatic but this was a true conquer of our fears — just look at our hands in the picture above, just as we’re about to get to the top of the castle where everything is jagged and slippery.

(I can’t get over how swollen my face was.)

We candidly tell people that we never would’ve made it to the top of Blarney Castle if he hadn’t been there to tease us into distraction. He diverted us just enough that we could concentrate and appreciate the views without being able to focus on our terror. It was one of those serendipitous things that worked out perfectly for us.

The view of Blarney House from the top.

That’s the top of the castle! And you can see where you’re supposed to lay down on your back, bend all the way backwards, and then lean up to kiss the stone. It. Is. Terrifying.

There are three iron bars separating me from plunging to a certain death. Well, three metal bars and then the man gripping my jacket.

After kissing the stone, it was a pretty easy trip back down. That’s part of the reason the climb up is so scary — it’s one way up and one way down, so once you’re in, you’re in. Luckily there wasn’t a line to get back down, and we were shaking off our adrenaline jitters as we descended into… the Poison Garden.

Why is there a Poison Garden at this castle, you ask? Maybe the real question is, why doesn’t every castle have a Poison Garden?

What do you get when you mix powdered root of asphodel with an infusion of wormwood?

It had everything, including cannabis, and we read every single plaque because they were fascinating. Mum may have taken a picture of every single one.

The battlements!

And the view from the battlements!

We walked toward the Ice House a ways to look at the trees and forest — it feels truly magical.

Then it was time for lunch (with a side of rain).

The restaurant is located in the old stable yard. I ordered a creamy tomato soup and I think the other two got a potato-based soup. We finished eating just before it started raining.

All of the stables had tables inside them! Isn’t that cool?

We killed some time in the gift shop as we waited for the rain to pass, and I had yet another opportunity for a “mind your head” selfie.

I never got tired of that.

After the rain cleared up, we were able to explore more of the grounds. Madre was particularly interested in the old Druidic site, so we followed the map to the Rock Close.

The rock trolls from Frozen!

I love this. I want one of these in my back yard, for absolutely no reason except it makes me happy.

The Seven Sisters old Druidic circle, with Blarney Castle in the background.

The Wishing Steps are pretty cool. Legend has it they are the steps that the Blarney Witch used to use to steal firewood from the kitchens. There’s also a legend that if you walk down the steps backwards and then back up with your eyes closed and focus on one wish, that it will come true. I have many wishes in life — a million dollars would be nice, or for my Jeep’s check engine light to be magically solved — but I am also an inherently clumsy person. It’s just built into my DNA. And when you’re as clumsy as I am, you have to pick your battles. I’d survived Blarney Castle without falling down or tripping or running into walls, so I didn’t think it was worth pressing my luck by walking backwards down wet steps with my eyes closed.

I mean, look at those steps. And look at the crowd of people at the bottom waiting to continue their eyes-closed trip back to the top.

And this is just breathtaking. It’s the waterfall located just behind the Wishing Steps.

The Dolmen, which supposedly still moves, but it felt rock solid to me. (Ha!)

Look how funny and quirky I am in Ireland!

We spent the rest of the day driving around Cork, so no pictures for me, but it was fun! And driving in Ireland is actually pretty cool in the countryside, the roads are wide enough that you can pull to the side to let faster traffic pass you if the other side is clear. It was a pretty smooth system, we caught on pretty quickly.

The next day was the day I was most looking forward to: the Ring of Kerry!

There are all kinds of suggestions and accounts of how you should experience the Ring: you should bus tour, you absolutely should not bus tour, you should drive, no driving is scary and dangerous, you should drive the Dingle Peninsula instead, and on and on and on.

My advice? Do what you want. I really enjoyed our one bus tour in Iceland, and if we’d had the budget, I think a bus tour of the Ring of Kerry would’ve been nice. I liked the freedom of driving it ourselves, but I’d had weeks of practice of driving on the narrow roads. The only drawback to doing it ourselves was the lack of direction; it was challenging at times to direct ourselves.

We got another early start and our first stop was this fun pullover.

And our next stop was Rossbeigh Beach.

We continued on until another pullover near Kilkeehagh.

The next stop, just before the rain rolled in, was Kells Beach.

Then it was time for lunch, and we stopped at a pub in Cahersiveen. Three old men flirted shamelessly with us, and one of them was a big fan of America and asked us to quiz him on the state capitals — he was really good! There was also this cute little guy:

He was so sweet!

After lunch, the rain was pretty heavy.

But we soldiered on, and we made it through some particularly thick mist and rain and didn’t stop again until Whitestrand.

Fun fact: my brother-in-law and his girlfriend gave me a framed version of this photo for Christmas!

Then onward to Moll’s Gap.

And then my personal favorite, a spot called Ladies View.

The name apparently derives from the way Queen Victoria’s ladies-in-waiting admired the view from here, and we learned that because we happened to be there at the same time as a bus tour.

Then we continued to Torc Waterfall, because in the end, our big trip was really just a series of breathtaking waterfalls.

You can climb these stone steps all the way to the top of the waterfall, but I wasn’t feeling as adventurous that day and stopped about halfway up. The view still wasn’t bad:

I sat there for a long time, just enjoying the view.

After that, our trip around the Ring of Kerry was complete, just in time to get stuck in traffic in Killarney for almost an hour.

It was our last night in Limerick, and the next day, we were headed for the Cliffs of Moher. Unfortunately, the weather decided not to cooperate, and neither did my body, as I woke up feeling sick that morning.

Yes, I took a picture of the entry gates to the Cliffs of Moher, and no, I don’t remember why I thought it was necessary.

We were faced with a persistent, driving, sideways rain that didn’t let up all day. We tried to kill some time in the visitor’s center, partaking in every single activity they had to offer, but…

It was pretty packed. Eventually we realized that if we didn’t just brave the rain and prepare to be soaked, we wouldn’t get to see anything, so we ventured back into the elements.

After the Cliffs, Kathleen wanted to visit St. Bridgit’s Well, and then we continued our drive to Galway. We’d packed lunches, so we pulled over to eat and we had quite a view.

Galway was just as rainy as the Cliffs had been, but it was still very pretty.

We stopped in a local tearoom (I remember a cramped table and a wonderfully tasty cappuccino) and braved the rain for some sightseeing, including the Claddagh Ring museum.

We didn’t have more than an hour or so to spend there, because we had to continue on to our BnB, with one more detour: Kylemore Abbey.

That image, of all things, was my most popular Instagram photo of the whole trip. I think it’s because it looks like a posh Hogwarts?

Our BnB was in Westport, and the hostess was wonderful. She was warm and friendly and very talkative, full of information and stories about the area. She had a little mutt dog that she’d named “Bitsa,” (“for bitsa this, bitsa that”) and she made us some quiche and soup and had fresh scones for us in the morning.

And the next morning is where my next post will pick up!