We arrived at our apartment in Killarney and were immediately swept up in the whirlwind that is this little city of 13,000.  When we booked this place three months ago we knew there’d be a marathon ending at the main building on these grounds (called Gleneagle) but we did not know there would also be the biggest Gaelic football game of this season on our second night here.  This place is absolutely hopping.

Last night, we headed in to downtown Killarney for dinner.  Every pub was packed to the gills and the streets were bubbling over with runners carbing up for their race, and fans of Gaelic football getting their drink on.  We did get a late seat for dinner at The Laurels, a highly recommended restaurant, and had a lovely meal, after which we walked around the streets singing along with every street performer within earshot.  I had no idea I knew Billy Joel’s “Piano Man” by heart – but if I hadn’t before, I certainly would by now.

As we walked, the five of us talked incessantly about a man we’d met earlier in the day, a character called Robert Cagney, who drives a jaunting car (a traditional horse and carriage) in Killarney National Park, round trip to the Muckross House. We were able to convince the kids to walk in…a total of 3.2 miles, but not out again, so we hired Mr. Cagney to get us back to our apartment.  What a treat!

Mr. Cagney has been doing his work for 48 years, knows every tree on the 12 acre span of gorgeous land that is the Muckross House, and the story behind the entire place.  Through his very thick accent (and lack of teeth) I gleaned the house was built by a man with the name Herbert, who gave it to his wife, who later died. Improvements made to the place when Queen Victoria visited in 1861 caused the Herberts financial distress.  Unable to afford it any longer, it was sold, first to a Guinness heir, and then to a wealthy family from California who owned it until 1930 when it was gifted to the city of Killarney and made part of Killarney National Park.  Mr. Cagney’s father worked in the gardens at the house and so it is through the house he and his family have had their livelihood for two generations.   He talks about it like the child he raised to be king.

Our horse, Suzy, Mr. Cagney, and the rest of us with Killarney National Park in the background.

I know, it’s sad people have to live like this.

Sad indeed.

What a unique way to make a living, and a beautiful space in which to make a life.  Mr. Cagney is someone we will remember years from now as a man who enhanced our experience during our 48 hour stay in Killarney.  I can only imagine how many others have been equally impressed by his kindness and his embracing welcome.

I’m not going to mince words, or put together gorgeous strings of them that are meant to do certain jobs, or even sound literary at all.  I’m travel-tired and I’m just going to say it: Great Blasket Island is fecking astounding.

(I learned the word fecking today.  It’s bad, yes, but it sure is fun to say.  You can have it now. You’re welcome.)

Great Blasket Island is the second most beautiful place I have ever seen.  It rises to the occasion of needing that word my Korean student used which doesn’t actually exist…breathtakeable.

I took this first photograph at the visitor’s center on the mainland and this next one while hiking.  I’m certain the scale of these doesn’t translate in my photos, but if you were standing just there on the edge you’d look quite small indeed.

Great Blasket was once the home of a unique community of Irish who braved the sea’s torment year-round.  Several writers emerged from that community, perhaps the most famous among them Peig Sayers and Tomas O’Crohan.  Myths and folklore provided rich soil in which to grow most abundant stories passed down through generations.  The Irish government removed the last 27 inhabitants off for good in 1953, and the only ones who live there now are sheep, an overpopulation of hares, and two wild donkeys, one I called “Rasta” for reasons obvious in the photo below.

One may also tent/camp on Great Blasket Island, with no permit whatsoever, but if you aim to do this, I suggest you do it soon.  I simply can’t imagine they’ll let that go on much longer.  The world is beginning to make its mark out there.

As it is, guests are allowed complete free reign of the island.  You can hike anywhere you want, visit the beach to swim with the seals and dolphins, and climb in and amongst the ruins of the homes that once stood proudly on the shores.  You can touch the hearths of the people who built the homes with their hands more than a hundred years ago, and you can lay where they lay their weary bodies at night to sleep, sometimes a family of ten in a room the size of a large bathroom.

When you finish your exploration (and to circumnavigate the island on the best marked trail will take you about 90 minutes) you can sit down to a cup of tea and a scone at the small rustic cafe overlooking the beach and the mainland.  That’s what I did.  I highly recommend it.