wild, wild west
We get lost (in a good way) on Ireland’s picturesque west coast.
IRELAND: LAND OF LEPRECHAUNS, four-leaf clovers and Niall Horan. Also the land of potatoes, Guinness, novelist James Joyce and U2. You know what? I could spend the next few pages talking about all the clichés that come to mind when someone mentions Ireland, to be sure (okay, that was the last one, I promise). But this story is not about that Ireland. It’s about the Ireland you only discover once you arrive. No amount of pre-trip research and wordof-mouth recommendations can put into perspective just how friendly the Irish are. Or how much it rains (because, yes, it’s quite a bit). Or how easy it is to take a little detour and stumble upon a quaint village or fascinating natural wonder and have your entire day’s itinerary thrown out the window.
ON MY FIRST TRIP TO IRELAND, a day trip to the cinematic Cliffs of Moher turned into an extended visit to The Rock Shop (therockshop.ie), a purveyor of gemstones and titchy gifts in nearby Liscannor, because the combined force of the wind, rain and fog prevented me from even getting out of the vehicle at the cliffs’ car park. Although my seeking refuge from the elements turned out to be a great chance to expand my crystal collection, the experience only further proves my point – you can safely do without an itinerary in these parts.
SO IT WAS WITH A FAIRLY LAX ATTITUDE TO
ORGANISATION – an approach I’m unfamiliar with – that I packed my suitcase and headed back to Ireland for round two, this time with my mother in tow. I was apprehensive about whether we’d be able to put up with one another over the course of a week. Our first test would be the airport. Mum’s a massive stresser about every single aspect of flying. I, on the other hand, am a lean, mean, travellerdodging machine through the airport terminal. Me: “Come on, we can make it past these people if you hustle.” Mum: “What’s the rush?” Me (internally): “Fuuuuuuuuuuuu!!!” We were off to a rocky start.
THE MAIN OBJECTIVE OF OUR TRIP
was to drive along Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Way, a 2,500km-long tourist trail that stretches down the island’s west coast. Flying into Galway Airport, we picked up our hire car, turned on the windscreen wipers and headed first into the city, famous for its bohemian scene, nightlife and general goodtimes vibe. No partying for us, though. Instead, we took in a few of the busier streets, then headed to The Burren Perfumery (burrenperfumery.com). After some GPS trouble sent us on a twohour detour, we arrived and proceeded to spend an obnoxious amount of money on organic, small batch-produced perfumes, lotions and potions. I’ve smelled
phenomenal ever since.
WITH A BIG DRIVE PLANNED
to get from Galway to Killarney, where we were spending a few nights, we knocked out Limerick, Adare and the Cliffs of Moher in one epic, caffeine-fuelled afternoon (Netflix, if you’re reading this, Mum and I are both open to a guest spot on Gilmore Girls if you decide to do another special). Early evening, we made it to The Europe Hotel & Resort (theeurope.com), a sleek five-star property overlooking Lough Leane and in what I posit to be one of the prettiest, most quintessentially Irish-looking parts of the country. The hotel is full of bright, airy spaces that are designed to maximise the vista, but the absence of air-conditioning in the room was an adjustment for Mum, who generally operates under the policy of “the air-con must remain on at all times; get a blanket if you’re cold” (Irish people don’t really believe in air-con).
LATER WE HIT UP ESPA,
the hotel’s award-winning day spa and fitness facility. Being that I was on holiday, I can’t tell you what the gym was like but the Irish sure know how to spa. Post-treatment, you go to a private room where chic little daybeds overlook the lake; they bring you biscuits and tea. Afterwards, we went down to the Spa Café to lounge in the sun in our fluffy white robes and eat salad. It’s how I imagine Bono spends those U2 earnings.
BACK ON THE ROAD,
we took a morning stroll through Killarney National Park, where the dense, eerie mist hanging over Muckross Lake gave our constitutional a certain gravitas. Leave yourself a few days to explore this area if your schedule allows it – you can take a horse and cart through the grounds of Muckross House, run through Derrycunihy Wood like
you’re in an M Night Shyamalan film (just kidding) or sign up for a day trip to do the Gap of Dunloe, a narrow, Tolkien-esque mountain pass you can discover by boat, horse-drawn cart or your own two feet (don’t drive through it, though, or you’ll be greeted with disapproving stares and head-shaking from fellow sightseers and their tour guides). Drive the magnificent Ring of Kerry, too, but be prepared to stop approximately 20 times to take pictures on the side of the road. Head towards the coast, to the little town of Portmagee, where you can join a tour out to the Skellig Islands. Skellig Michael, the most famous of the islands, can be seen in the final scene of Star Wars: The Force Awakens. As a diehard Star Wars fan, climbing the 600-plus steps to the peak of the island was at the top of my to-do list. So let me recommend this: call ahead before driving two hours from your hotel to the port lest the tours be cancelled that day due to bad weather. Maybe next time, Skelligs.
BASING OURSELVES OUT OF KENMARE
for a few days so we could cross off some of the aforementioned activities, we stayed first at Park Hotel Kenmare (parkkenmare.com), a 46-room hotel that’s been around since 1897. In stark contrast to the log fires and plush sofas of the common areas, the main drawcard – Sámas Spa – is sleek and modern, particularly in its approach to spa-ing. Instead of booking a treatment, you book an arrival time and leave yourself three hours for the entire “Sámas Experience”. First you’ll enter the Thermal Suite – there are separate male and female ones – and move between the sauna, steam room, rain shower and outdoor vitality pool at your leisure. An hour later, you’ll head to a private room for your body treatment or Sisley facial, before winding down for the last hour in the Relaxation Room overlooking Kenmare Bay.
ON THE OTHER SIDE OF KENMARE BAY
is Sheen Falls Lodge (sheenfallslodge.ie). I wish we stayed here for more than one night. I wish I lived here, actually. Thanks to its location just outside of Kenmare town, it’s incredibly quiet – the only noise comes from the gentle rushing of Sheen Falls outside your suite’s window. Having recently undergone a slick renovation, the decor is preppy country manor meets midcentury modern; a restrained elegance that still feels lived-in and welcoming. The staff were divine, the food was delicious and dinner’s background music was provided courtesy of the resident pianist. Mum: “This is chic!”
THEN WE WERE OFF TO OUR FINAL HOTEL,
Mount Juliet Golf & Spa Hotel (mountjuliet.ie), which is set on a 600-hectare estate in Kilkenny and features a golf course, Michelin-starred restaurant and lodge accommodation in addition to the main house. Being our last night in Ireland, we chose Mount Juliet for its location smack bang in between Kenmare and Dublin, where we’d fly home from the following day. The hotel reception staff almost fainted as we casually mentioned we drove three-and-a-half hours, with a brief retail therapy-focused stopover in Cork, to get there. That is basically the Irish equivalent of flying Sydney to Perth for an overnighter (apparently, despite the size of the island, the Irish aren’t ones for long drives either).
YES, THERE’S A LOT OF DRIVING INVOLVED
on a holiday like this. At least the nationwide disdain for long road trips means that, when you’re off the highway, you’ll rarely have to share the road with anything more than a tractor. If getting behind the wheel isn’t your thing, get you a travelling buddy who does both – that is, drives and knows when to pull over and regroup because you’ve given them the wrong directions. On that note, sorry I called you a bad navigator, Mum.