Magic in the landscape by beautiful Bantry Bay
FOUR seasons batter us as we barrel down the motorway to Cork. Blazing sunshine, hailstones, torrential rain and wind assault the car, so by the time we arrive Leeside, we’re ready for a lunch break with my cousin in the Imperial, a marvellous monolith which foreshadows our ultimate destination.
In the meantime, I’m running on fumes. The fun and frolics of last year’s holidays seem far, far away. My body and brain both need a break — consquently I’ve decided to avail of a restorative weekend trip with my youngest daughter Julia, a busy final year student.
Brilliantly, I’m bound for the rebel county. I’ve always adored Cork: I’ve maternal ancestral roots there and as a child, I spent many happy times in the capital and Currabinny and had some memorable breaks too in Ballymaloe, Midleton and Kinsale.
Ultimately though, my heart belongs to West Cork. A close friend had use of a family cottage in Rosscarbery and we spent countless summers there with our children. Indeed one May Bank holiday we came back with two extra passengers: a brace of black bitches, Elsa and Nanou, our much loved Lab/collie pups, now a couple of elegant old ladies.
As a student I partied in Baltimore and, for a couple of years, my mother rented a summer house in Castletownshend so I know and love the region well. That said, last time I visited these parts was about five years ago. Celebrating a significant family birthday we went to the West Cork Chamber Festival — it was July, the sun was sparkling, the music celestial — rounding off the festivities with a glorious drive across Sheep’s Head Peninsula, past Durrus and Ahakista, along the Beara peninsula ending with tea and cake in the county’s most westerly parish, Allihies.
Needless to say, the West Cork Literary Festival has long been on my radar and I’ve yet to visit Dzogchen Beara, the Buddhist meditation centre. It was time to come back.
We bid my lovely cuz farewell and headed off again into the unpredictable gales and rays along the Wild Atlantic Way finally getting to Glengarriff and the Eccles Hotel, which, at 250 years old (it was established in 1745), is Ireland’s oldest hostelry.
It definitely has one of the best locations, sitting on the shores of Bantry Bay, as well as a distinguished pedigree: the Eccles’ eclectic coterie of former guests would make up an interesting dinner party: among them WB Yeats, Maureen O’Hara, George Bernard Shaw, Pippa Middleton and William Makepeace Thackeray.
So enchanted was the latter in fact, that in 1843 he wrote: “What sends tourists to the Rhine and Saxon Switzerland? Within five miles of the pretty Inn of Glengarriff there is a country of the magnificence of which no pen can give any idea.”
The pretty inn was recently given a swish makeover but the vibes are still straight out of Downton Abbey: from the smiling doorman who is out to help with our luggage before I’ve pulled up the handbrake, to the roaring fires and cosy atmosphere: it is the epitome of a country hotel at its best. The renovation nothwithstanding, it has retained its original features — some might find it a tad old-fashioned but for me this is part of its allure — and no money could buy these views.
Our first night, we opted for simple bar food: featherblade of beef followed by bread and butter marmalade pud. And very nice it was too, as was the sleep of the gods we both enjoyed in our blissfully comfortable beds. After a breakfast so good it recently won Georgina Campbell’s Best Breakfast Award, we spent a relaxed morning in Bantry; with so much talk of rural decline, it was great to see a bustling town, full of life.
We were both very tired so even anticipating the prospect of a Spa at Eccles signature treatment was heaven. Wrapped in cosy dressing gowns, we headed up to the new spa and were shown the roof. Stretched out on recliners, feeling like aristocrats (I told you it was pure Downton Abbey) we sipped lemon water while our seaweed baths were prepared. Then we climbed into deep wooden tubs filled with hot water and brown fronds gathered from the nearby seashore.
It was exhilarating sitting there, in the crisp air, looking out over the bay as the sun started its descent, lashing the sky with streaks of apricot and violet.
Then it was back inside for 90 minutes of a facial and back massage, using luxurious Voya products.
Saturday night and a seven-course tasting menu in the dining room awaited us.
The chef here is Eddie Atwell who knows his onions: literally — he’s a committed forager who built a polytunnel as soon as he arrived at Eccles. Highlights included blackcurrant and gin-cured salmon served with beetroot and mustard emulsion, venison haunch and shank accompanied by arthicoke and blackberry onion and not one, but two desserts, both of which were sublime: brandy cream and pistachio fool and a peanut and banana parfait with lime caramel. My pescatarian companion dove with delight into her sea bass and hake.
Sometimes summer feels so very far away, both the one that’s been and the one to come. But so charming is this part of the world that after a mere 48 hours there, Julia and I felt transformed.
And at this time of year, it is a sheer delight — awash with daffodils, the scent of spring in the air.
If you’re casting about for a family Easter break, the hotel will be running a children’s camp and there’s no end of activities from fishing and sea kayaking, to hillwalking and biking. My gardening friends rave about the West Cork garden trail and the ferry to nearby Garnish Island starts on April 1. When I say it was just the tonic, I mean for once I didn’t even need the gin.
Cork dry anyone?!