The view from the golf club car park—our campsite—this morning.
As a reminder… we’re on the Beara Peninsula, one of the “fingers” in south-west Ireland. Beara isn’t as iconic as the next peninsula north, Iveragh—home of the Ring of Kerry—but, by heck, it’s still stunning.
Today, we’re going to drive from our overnight stop back through Castletownbere and on to Dursey Island, taking the cable car across. Then we’ll follow the peninsula’s north coast through Allihies and Eyeries to our final stop at Creveen Lodge, on the Healy Pass road.
But first, the cliffhangers from the last post.
Roy and his car: hopefully, he got a jump start. Even if the promised person didn’t show that morning, Roy had his own jump pack charging overnight, so he should have been fine. I walked down to his tent a couple of times before we left, but there was no sign of him emerging, so I didn’t wake him. If I’d been his only option, I would have knocked on the tent door.
Oh… and the sink stayed synced—for the moment.
The Road to Dursey
The views are jaw-dropping. We stopped a couple of times to take a shot or two, but some of the best scenery is seen as you drive. Because we don’t have a dashcam, I can’t show you much of it. I later rigged the 360 camera to the windscreen, but it didn’t do the scenery justice.
Here’s a shot back along the south side of the peninsula, looking east towards where we stayed the previous night at the golf course.
Dursey Island
Well, Dursey Island was a treat. The views from the eastern hilltop back towards the mainland were amazing.
But first, we had to get to the island.
We arrived at about 11, and there were a dozen or more car-parking spaces available. We could fit the van in by overhanging the verge at the back, and two or three other vans were already there. Overnight parking is strictly prohibited, though.
Then you head to the cable car and buy your tickets: €10 return per adult.
The cable car (Ireland’s only cable car) has room for six adults—or a permitted mix of adults and children—with a maximum load of 544 kg (about 1,200 lb). Those are the official rules. But it also seems that an indeterminant number of sheep are also allowed in the cable-car. That we would have liked to see: herding the sheep anywhere near the car would have been a skill to behold, let alone keeping them from falling down the gap between the concrete platform and the swaying car. Then getting them off the other end and stopping them from running amock. Seems the sheep story might be a bit implausible… but I know way less about sheep and shepherding than almost any other subject, so what do I know.
We had to queue while three crossings were completed before taking our turn. There’s only one car, and while we watched, it took roughly 12 minutes to make an out-and-back circuit. I timed it, of course!
As you enter the car, you’re told that the last return is at 7:30. What happens if you miss it isn’t explored. Signs also explain that the service pauses for lunch from 1:00 to 1:30. When we returned at about 1:30, it was running again but I suspect it hadn’t stopped.
Anyway…
We wanted a coffee, of course, and there is a café on the island, but we had to earn it first. We yomped to the top of the first ridge above the cable car and got some amazing views back towards the mainland… wowzers!
It’s very difficult to convey the scale of what’s laid out before you in these massive panoramas. The next six images were taken from essentially the same spot on the ridge we climbed.
The first image looks back towards the mainland cable-car station and car park.
Zooming out a bit, the car park in the middle of the picture disappears into the scale of the place.
Zooming out again, the mainland stretches across the distance and the car park sits about a quarter of the way along it—even though the distorted panorama makes the headland look like an island.
And three more views from the hillside towards the mainland.
We’d earned our coffee, so we headed for the café signposted from the cable car. The guidebook said at least one café should be open during summer, and the signs pointed towards Kilmichael, a small hamlet between the eastern hill we’d climbed and the hill farther west with the signal tower. The café is at Kilmichael Cottage.
What an odd café. It felt very much like someone’s recently renovated house, with the living room turned into a café and a “Private” label over the kitchen door.
You can just see people sitting outside in that shot of the place.
We were greeted by the proprietor’s mother, who seemed to be visiting from the mainland. The guy running the place then came and took our order. He didn’t have any gluten-free cake, so I had to have chocolate ice cream… some you win, some you win. I did want cake, but who can complain about chocolate ice cream?
We then found out that the café had been open for only six weeks. All the paint was new, along with newly laid floors and new furniture. I think they were still figuring out how it would all work, so we’ll forgive the lack of gluten-free options.
The post arrived while we were there. We suspected the postie was whoever happened to be at the cable car when the mail turned up. This postie was in a rush, though, as seems common on these islands, his car sounded like a bag of old nails and probably wasn’t long for this earth!
Café loos: spotless. Soap, loo paper and a good seat. They would have scored 9.4/10, but we had to deduct 0.4 because the tiles still needed grouting. 🙂 So, 9/10.
We then took the easier route back to the cable car… along the road.
That’s definitely counting as a ruined church, taking the total to nine. These are the remains of the medieval Kilmichael Church and its burial ground.
Back on the cable car
A family of six ahead of us in the queue had a child fall from the waiting-area railings and graze his back. Sue supplied a saline wipe to clean it, but it was clearly causing him some grief. Because of this, the family and another four adults were all taken back together. Official guidance describes the car as holding six adults or a combination of adults and children, subject to its 544 kg load limit. The operator evidently made an exception; we assume the passenger mix and total load were taken into account.
I cracked my head on the cable-car roof as we entered. If I were local, I’d have liberally applied the word we heard most often: fck, fck, f*ck. Boy, do some of the people we encountered use the F-word a lot! It seemed perfectly acceptable for an otherwise respectable family mother to eff and blind in front of her kids, and everyone else went at it like it was going out of fashion. Consider us alarmed!
It was a great cable-car journey, though. Top marks for Dursey Island and the means of getting there—and back.
By the time we returned at about two, the car park was full and people were still waiting to cross to the island.
Come early if you don’t want to be dissapointed.
Eyeries
Leaving Dursey, we continued along the Wild Atlantic Way. The roads are narrow, but the views are stunning. The locals thought the roads were busy, but if they want to learn what busy is they should try getting from Cribbs Causeway back into Bristol at rush hour. We met oncoming traffic every once in a while, but there was either enough room for two cars to squeeze past or there was a passing place nearby.
Though we did meet one enormous monster camper conversion. It was one of those “I can go to the Arctic in this” lorry conversions. It was a short-wheelbase version, but still huge, so we had to reverse about 100 metres before finding a large enough passing place. Any two regularly sized vehicles could have passed each other easily.
Most drivers waved back as we slowed to let them through, but some clearly didn’t and looked a bit miffed. I’m not sure whether there’s an anti-campervan thing going on. Perhaps I was being oversensitive, but you do feel a bit of an impostor with a semi-large van on these roads. Plenty of Irish people travel in vans, so it isn’t only foreigners filling the roads, but I can imagine some locals getting hacked off.
Having said that, we’ve encountered nothing but friendliness from the people we’ve spoken to.
I came to a revelation about the Irish the previous night. There seems to be one thing they’re even better at than talking: listening. Everyone listens to what you—or anyone else—has to say and seems genuinely interested. That’s a rare skill and a huge tribute to the people here. I really hope it doesn’t get lost.
Enough rambling. We’re on the Wild Atlantic Way again, heading east along the north coast of the Beara Peninsula.
We dropped through Allihies but didn’t find anywhere to park, so we moved on. It was busy.
On the other side of the village, we encountered dozens—perhaps hundreds—of parked cars stretching for a kilometre or so. People were leaving their vehicles on the verges and walking somewhere. There were no signs and nothing obvious happening, so we couldn’t figure it out. The likely explanation was the Allihies Family Festival, traditionally held around 15 August, but we don’t really know. ¯_(ツ)_/¯
More stunning views and narrow roads through amazing coastal scenery.
We then reached Eyeries and decided that, after Allihies, we’d make more effort to stop and look around. We cruised through the village without finding campervan-sized parking until I spotted a huge car park on the way out. We parked, only to realise it was the main church car park. There were just three or four cars in its 40-plus spaces, so we left Ollie there and went for a walk.
(Note: we still haven’t paid for parking anywhere! Only at proper overnight campervan stops.)
Eyeries has made a feature of its brightly coloured houses. There are a few pubs and a large campervan stop overlooking the beach.
There were also walking groups who appeared to be resting and having coffee. Eyeries clearly has a lot going on for visitors.
We walked back through the village to a café we’d noticed on the way in. We lucked out again: there were plenty of gluten-free options on the menu and in the cake display.
I was famished by this point, having eaten nothing but ice cream on Dursey. I ordered a gluten-free chicken toastie—which looked more like a chicken burger to us—with chips, a pot of tea and a coffee. That’s better!
It turned out that the café also served as reception for a motorhome stop. On another day, we might have picked Eyeries for an overnight stay, but we were heading farther on.
Back onto the Wild Atlantic Way.
Sue leaned out of the window to take this when there were no other cars around. We’d heard a local on the Dursey cable car complaining about a van that had stopped in the middle of the road while someone hung out of its window taking a photo. That’s bad form, so we don’t do that.
Here are a couple of shots from the Osmo mounted on the windscreen. I took dozens, but reflections of the windscreen blinds made almost every one useless. The Osmo didn’t handle the exposure well through the windscreen either. I think I need to use it in single-lens mode.
Anyway, here are two really bad shots to give you some sense of the terrain…
Creveen Lodge Campsite
Well, as we say every time we arrive at a site… you never know. You never know what’s in store. The previous night was a golf course—pretty clean and tidy. Tonight, it’s a campsite perched on a hillside with spec…tac…ular views but “quirky” facilities.
This site is way beyond needing some TLC. It needs knocking down and starting again. The proprietors, Michael and Mary, are lovely, but everything looks as though it was built, installed or made a good few years ago. We got the impression that they were ready to retire and that this would probably be their final season.
We probably won’t bother with a shower in the morning. If you’re into bivvy camping, I’m sure the facilities are the height of luxury, but because we don’t need to use them, we won’t.
It has all the facilities: electric hook-up, grey- and black-water disposal and drinking water. There’s hot water at the sinks, soap and loo roll, and the loos are reasonably clean. But it all feels more “at your gran’s place” than “three-star hotel.”
This is the amenities block from outside: kitchen, common room, loos and washing-up area, all in one building.
Some of the returning tenants probably haven’t been back for their caravans in a while either!
As soon as we parked and got the van onto chocks, we went to the top of the site to take in the views. They were absolutely amazing. We sat with a beer beside Michael and Mary’s house and reception, taking it all in. Neither of us wanted to leave, even after the beer was gone. What a place to wake up to every morning.
We had to take a selfie while toasting a friend’s birthday back home…
This is the view from the top of the campsite, across the scrubland to the estuary and the mountains beyond.
Breathtaking.
The view was pretty good from our pitch at the bottom of the campsite too, although the picture doesn’t really do it justice.
We did a bit of planning and now have the next three nights booked. We head to Kenmare tomorrow, but we’re going to visit Torc Waterfall before reaching our campsite.
The sink is still synced.
J
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