Irish Odyssey Day 4. The Gap of Dunloe

When it comes to the actualité of Day Four, I have a memory lapse and here, I shall commit sacrilege:  I can take or leave views. I like to be in among them rather than looking at them, walking, riding, talking to any odd person, local or otherwise I might meet. Unfortunately, the blessing and curse of old age clips one’s wings somewhat.

I kissed the Blarney Stone in 1959 when I hitched round Ireland with Mollie Stone and Maureen McCarthy. Moll is still my friend but Maureen – what happened to her? Even this long-ago, people insisted we HAD to see the Gap of Dunloe, which we did, both by jaunting car and on horseback, wet through, Moll half in half out of a plastic mac, Maureen completely shrouded in hers. She had beautiful curly red hair, which somebody told us was a throwback to a Spanish sailor, washed up alive from the Armada. Complete tosh of course.  I am in the middle, in a damp duffle coat. This may or may not have been the same one as my lover, by then my husband, hated so much. During a doomed campaign trying to turn me into a lay-dee, he gave it to his Auntie Bridey to wear on the farm.

Each time since I’ve been anywhere near it, the Gap of Dunloe, has been compulsory viewing. You always go, (likewise Killarney, bumper to bumper) so as not to hurt anyone’s feelings, but trust me, if you’ve never been there, you’ll think you have. Numerous biscuit tins will tell you so, as will a more modern interloper, the computer.  Our youngest grandson, then about 8, and atrociously regularly travelled, casting a blasé eye over some Greek ruin or other, said “I’ve been here before.” His parents in unison contradicted, “No, you haven’t!” “I have,” insisted the child. “Dozens of times. I’ve seen it online. And I don’t like crowds.”  Travelling ain’t what it used to be. Once there was hardly anybody like you there for a start. Locals would argue whether or not you were a tinker.  (True)

Whilst the Brutus Organisation tends to agree about crowds, au contraire, it LOVES views. It is crazy about them. Thinking today might be a rest day, you indulge in a little introspection, but your reverie is shattered by Algernon’s command to “Look at the View!” You dare not disobey. “Left! Look left!” he screams, “You’re looking out the wrong window! Left nor Right!” You remind him you only have one eye, but this is no excuse. You are put on jankers.

This lost cherub, a sad memory of somebody’s child, lay in a forlorn graveyard. Such graveyards suddenly pop up, miles from anywhere without a house to be seen. You think of the mourners trudging miles to bury their dead. The pall bearers carrying the coffin, shoulder high, surely in the rain.

Cinematic cliche. We’ve all seen it.

What I remember most about the day, was stopping at a garage to admire a spanking old Humber Hawk. Its near relative, George’s first car, was a Humber Super Snipe. He loved that car. When we met, I thought he was posh. So we were both wrong. He hoped to have a smattering of motor memorabilia lads chat with the bloke, the driver of the car, but the man was unforthcoming.  I am not putting up the picture in case he turns out to be the proverbial “Quiet Irishman”.

Next stop the Gap of Dunloe, which I have to admit, is imposing. Pretty impressive. For a miniature version, what “The Dip in Allison” in Briz-speak, otherwise Allison Road, might have been like a few million years ago, when Brislington Brook, now a trickle, roared through.

(I’ve had to struggle, but I’ve found a Bristol link!)

Despite my previous comments about crowds, we had the Gap of Dunloe to ourselves except for a lone camper van you can just make out in the middle distance.

It was not a rest day for Algernon of Brutus Tours, but we were quite tired. He may like to make his own comments. I think the star system should go both ways, Operator and Customer.

Brutus writes

It just goes to show tht you can’t please all the people all the time. Here are a few pics that I thought were worth stopping the car for and would have been a crime to miss! We started out at the Beara Penninsula going north from Allihies and I for one drank in the views of Molls Gap and MacGillyKuddy Reeks. As usual we were blessed with incredible weather – April in Ireland and we all came home with sun tans!

In the late afternoon/evening I left Mum and Dad to have a nap and went to have a look at Torc Waterfall. I was mesmerised by the movement of the water over the rocks and spent a good deal of time there enjoying some private mindfulness whilst trying to harness my inner Leonardo da Vinci. We dined at Cronins Restaurant that night (Dad’s Mum was a Cronin so that was a talking point) and there was some funny exchange between Mum and the waitress – please fill in the  gap if you can remember. We saw the first rain of the holiday that night.