 My children and I leaned across the rails of the Stena Line ferry as the coastline of Ireland began to take shape. We’d boarded at Holyhead in north Wales, driving our little car safely into the ship’s hold.
It was almost dusk when, after a threehour voyage, we disembarked in Dun Laoghaire, 11 km south of Dublin. As my 11 year old daughter scoured a map and I navigated the unfamiliar roads, my 14 year old son thumbed through our trusty Let’s Go travel guide checking out youth hostels in Ireland’s ancient capital city.
But Dublin was crammed with people in town for the hugely popular Dublin Horse Show, and everything was booked out. I was thinking this single-parent family might have to spend the night crammed into our Volkswagen when we were rescued at a set of traffic lights by an Irish postie.
“You look lost,” he called from his van as I sat at a red light studying a map.
“And homeless,” I added.
The postie grinned. “My sister might be able to help out.”
 We followed his van to a charming B&B near the city, where his sister put us up for the night in a comfortable caravan. The following morning, after a huge Irish breakfast, I tried to pay her. “You don’t owe me a thing,” she smiled. This was our welcome to Ireland.
We headed south through Wicklow, gaping at majestic mountains and lovely valleys like the beautiful Glendalough, hiding a monastic settlement dating from the sixth century. At the seaside town of Youghal in County Cork we found our favourite B&B, where we slept in brass beds and were spoilt with countless cups of tea. The landlady’s 100 year old mother, hunched beside the fire, told the spellbound children about her childhood.
At Clonakilty, where my grandmother had been born in 1900, the sounds of Irish music spilled through the doors of its many pubs as we wandered along its old streets, crammed with colourful shop fronts. At the nearby village of Dunmanway we spent several relaxing days at the Shiplake Mountain Hostel, a charming farmhouse nestled in the foothills of the Sheehy Mountains, where we stayed in romantic gypsy caravans – a hit with the kids.
From here we travelled west, spending memorable days exploring the beautiful Ring of Kerry’s old monasteries and windswept beaches. The kids loved the haunted shipwreck and submarine labyrinth at Fenit Sea World. Then we took off along the narrow roads of County Clare, a stunning mountain region of abandoned cottages and megalithic tombs. The Aillwee Caves thrilled the kids with bridges over chasms and spray from the waterfall, and they loved Bunratty Castle’s bloodthirsty dungeons and medieval banquet. Later we explored the Cliffs of Moher and took a boat trip to the spectacular Aran Islands.
 In Galway we took another boat trip across beautiful islandstrewn Lough Corrib before driving on through Connemara, where we found plenty for the kids, from demonstrations of sheep-herding to old mines. (Families with younger kids might want to stop at Tumble Jungle in Ballina, Ireland’s largest indoor play area.) At Guy’s Pub in Clifden the barman didn’t care that we probably weren’t related; he shouted us lunch anyway. It was another of the magnificent acts of kindness and hospitality we experienced during our unforgettable journey.
We all had tears in our eyes when, after glorious weeks touring the west coast, we drove
the Volkswagen onto the ferry at Rosslare for our trip back to Wales. Watching the coastline disappear into the distance, we vowed to return to the Emerald Isle as soon as we could.
|
