driving in ireland part one

7/30/2019 Driving in Ireland Part One

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Driving in Ireland Part

One

by Russ Haggerty

This is the story of our

first trip to Ireland.More than just a story;

it has a purpose. This

is a, not very well,camouflaged guide to

driving a rental car in Ireland. I say rental car because otherwise you already know all

about it or you brought your own over on the ferry and you may have problems I can't

help you with. The story helps explain why I was driving in the first place and sometimesexplains how. Besides, it's not as boring this way. So...

My wife Bridget is 100% Irish and for many years she has dreamed of going 'home'.

When I turned 50 (sigh) she arranged a surprise birthday party - I didn't forgive her andplotted my revenge. She was adamant, "you won't do that to me; when it's my turn I'll be

out of the country". OK, I thought, I'll get her 'out of the country'. I secretly planned totake her to Ireland and surprise her there.

The details were troublesome enough; what I never considered was Irish travel. I started

with "wouldn't it be pleasant to use trains?" Well, they don't seem to go where we wantedto go. Okay, how about just renting a car? And off we went...

Day One

My first surprise for Bridget was to have us met at Shannon Airport by her brother Terry

from England and her closest friend from the States - Jane. Jane arrived the day before us.When Jane rented her car, there were no automatics available. Yes, she had reserved an

automatic but everyone else had reserved an automatic as well. Notice that and planahead to improve your odds. You may even have to assume a day or so without a car untilan automatic becomes available. So, Jane, with no time to spare, had to drive a stick

which she hadn't done in years. She then had to contend with driving on the left (sitting

on the right) and - 'roundabouts'.Roundabouts are a brilliant solution to the problem of intersecting roads. A largish

circular mound, with multiple roadways entering from the perimeter. No traffic lights. No

police. You enter the circle and drive around (and around and around) until you find the

other road you want - then you ..um exit. There are customs involved. Whether they areactually laws or not, I never found out. The first and foremost is: the car on the right has

the right of way. This means the vehicle on the roundabout (going around in the circle)

has the right of way. The only other custom I noticed was: if you are going to pass morethan one other road off the roundabout, move to the inside lane. Yes, they are often two

lanes (even three).

A little aside here. Oddly the term Roundabout was coined by an American. It wasinvented by Logan Pearsall Smith, who was one of the members in the 1920's of the BBC

Advisory Committee on Spoken English. This panel had the job of deciding questions of

pronunciation, usage and even vocabulary for the BBC. Before Smith, traffic circles in

Britain were called gyratory circuses. Bill Bryson - from 'The Mother Tongue'.


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Back to Jane.

She's a very capable woman and made a two hour trip to Galway city to meet up with

Terry at the B & B without mishap (and only a few nerve endings exposed). She thendrove back the next day to meet us. By then, she was somewhat more confident but she

did lose the offside mirror enroute. She was stopped behind a parked truck. In the process

of pulling out to go around, she misjudged the distance and clipped the truck. The glasspopped out with a bang and woke up Terry; who was dozing. More about judging your

offside later on.

The surprise worked perfectly and Bridget was in joyous shock. Then Jane drove us backto the B & B in Galway. The main (National) roads are designated 'N - some number' and

the signs to wherever you're going are usually clear and obvious. The speed limits are

marked and if not, the national speed limit is 60 miles per hour. I can't say the Irish pay

much attention. They tend to drive as fast as they can. They have a seatbelt law - just likeus you must wear your seatbelt. Oh, one other point, our children are grown and gone and

I didn't want them along anyway. However, if you are traveling with kids under twelve,

they cannot be in the front seat. Good idea, that.

Day TwoThe original intent was for

Jane to drive us to ShannonAirport to get our rental car.

The problem was Jane not

wanting to drive to Shannon (2hours, for her) or anywhere

else she could avoid.

So we stopped at a car rental office in Galway city to see if we could rent a car there

without a drop-off charge. We could. We had been told we couldn't before we left.Another point to note, if you can't get your automatic or whatever car you requested. Take

a taxi or bus or whatever you can find and wait. Then try the rental office nearest you, It

may all be easier anyway. I cancelled the car at Shannon and arranged to rent a 4-doorautomatic in Galway (which turned out to be cheaper than the one at the airport).

I drove everyone back out of the city (we had come in by bus) and we stopped at a pub to

have something to eat. As I got out of the car, I picked up a whiff of something hot. I'dleft the handbrake on the whole way. I hadn't noticed because it didn't slow the car down

at all. I must believe the former drivers had done the same.

This is something to check when you rent. There may be spots on a steep hill where the

hand brake won't help at all. Before you leave the rental office, put the hand brake on andsee if the car will move; it's not supposed to.

Alright, we had both cars at the B&B that afternoon. I should explain, I did have anadvantage. I grew up in England and learned to drive there. That meant I knew what it

was like to drive on the left. It was like riding the proverbial bicycle, the button that

snapped me back to the old days in England was, of course, roundabouts. I used to be socomfortable with roundabouts I didn't even have to slow down, (um .. much). The Irish

roundabouts were fun for me and I was almost driving like a native in a couple of hours -

only much slower.


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Now, for all Americans who have never driven on the left. You must burn two life-saving

truths into your brain. First, always look to the right; that's where the traffic is coming

from. And second, when you turn onto (or off-of) any road, you are turning into the leftlane. I know, that's obvious - no, it's not. The most common mistake is turning right into

the right lane.

The next morning we split up. Jane and Terry went off to Cork and Bridget and I went to

the cemetery to find her grandmother's grave. Alright, I thought I was a fully capable

driver and Bridget had blind confidence. So, Bridget insisted we drive to see the Cliffs ofMoher. All well and good but we were still jet lagged and it was 5:30p.m.

Between major cities (say, Shannon Airport near Limerick and Galway City) the roads

are mostly good - smooth and wide. They are never consistent however. You can expect avariation from narrow two-lane blacktop to wide and motorway-ish. Many of the good

roads are four-lane, but you should only use the center two. The other two lanes (on the

outer edges) are for very slow vehicles. The rules of the road say you should always stay

in the slow lane to allow faster drivers to pass - rubbish. The Irish don't do that unlesstheir car is in trouble. In most cases, you couldn't stay in the slow lane for more than a

couple of minutes; your path would be more like a slalom.Be prepared. I never drove anywhere without seeing, or more painfully - following, a

massive tractor grinding along at 20 miles an hour. They are always just around the next

bend (out if sight) and you're going 50.Did I say the roads were clearly marked? Well, yes on the nice bits. On the narrow lanes,

however, the signs are usually obscured by very attractive greenery. I learned to scan the

brush for a hint of metal signpost.

Onward to the Burren. The Burren? Well yes, if you plan your route or don't know whereyou're going, you can go through the Burren on the way to the cliffs of Moher.

The Burren is a rugged geological formation that has almost no soil - just rocks. Therocks are in a strange series of patterns (like an Irish sweater). We were coming from the

north and could drive through the Burren to reach the Cliffs of Moher, so of course, that

was mandatory. This was a trip actually farther away than the airport and Jane had taken2 hours to do that. I started to argue with Bridget but decided to go anyway (it was her

trip). So I gritted my teeth.

After driving south back the way we had come, we turned off the 'main' roads and enteredthe 2-lane macadam's that lead to the Burren. Now, you must know where your car is

down to a few inches or your insurance may be paying for a new rental car. As I entered

narrowing roads between the walls, I continuously asked Bridget how much room I hadon her side. Remember dozing Terry?

If you have a passenger, don't let them doze - you'll want the feedback. If you don't have

a passenger, look at the center of your hood (bonnet), the spot where an ornament wouldbe if it had one. If the edge of road looks like its on that mark, you're alright. If it's to the

left of it, you have more room on the left. If it's on the right of it you're probably too close

to the left.I'll harp on this again.


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The stretch to the Burren is on the coast and occasionally walled-in on both sides. It looks

like hedges, but if you look closely you can see the stone behind the soft surface. The

road appears to be as narrow as anyone's driveway with a line drawn down the center;giving both lanes equally insufficient room. The edges are crumbling and have an

occasional pothole that can eat a wheel.

To make it all the more entertaining, there are tour buses the size of earth-movingequipment and the drivers don't seem to care if they scratch their sides. These tour buses

take the tours clockwise around the peninsulas. We were told to go counterclockwise to

avoid being slowed down. Its up to you, but I would rather have the tour bus monsters infront of me than beside me. So, I went clockwise right along with them. There weren't

that many and they did - not - drive slowly. I made it to the cliffs in 2 hours.

The cliffs are beautiful and very windy. They say the wind is so strong you can leanagainst it. Well, the wind is from the sea, depending on where you are and anyone who

leans against the wind on the edge of those cliffs should be tested. We have heard of too

many people falling (with, yes, fatal results).

The trip back was smooth enough. The only aggravation I remember was dusk and the

headlights of oncoming cars. It took me a while to get used to averting my eyes in theright (uh, left) direction.

If you can avoid driving at night, it is easier on the eyes.

Day Three

The next day was the 'figure eight' through Connemara; this is the tried and true route to

see the most in the least miles. Which is, of course, the American way. It's called the

figure eight because it looks that way, sort of, on a map. We went northwest from Galwaycity towards Maam Cross. On the way we, absolutely, had to stop at the ancestral castle

of the O'Flaherty's. The road was very good; butter smooth blacktop. I was mesmerized.

So much so, I missed the sign to the castle and we had to turn back. The O'Flaherty'sdominated Connemara in days long past and they had lots of castles. Oh well, we found

one anyway. We took the tour and Bridget asked for her castle back (yes, ne O'Flaherty).

The bored ticket taker was pleasant but he wasn't giving it up.

Back on those wonderfully smooth, just short of wide, roads; after the Burren anything

looked better. We drove straight out through the center of the peninsula.

Maam Cross is just about where you would stick a pin if you wanted to balance a

cardboard cutout of Connemara. The country is magnificent. We drove in a wide shallow

valley beside a river; the mountains on both sides of us. The valley was decorated withrocks and boulders and coated with a blanket of peat. Sheep wandered around and across

the road and you had to be prepared to stop or veer. The custom is that if you hit one, you

have to find the owner farmer and pay him for the sheep. Impossible. You would never beable to find the farm in a two-day forage. Oh, you would find farms, many I'm sure, but

they wouldn't be the right one. I noticed some sheep were sprayed with dye. I assumed

that would tell them apart or maybe which were for the pot. Animal lovers should not

hold their breath, we never did see a dead or injured sheep. The sheep are not a breed I'm


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familiar with; they have short curled horns and black faces.

We were headed to Clifden, a fairly large village perched on the cliffs overlooking theocean. We parked the car and strolled about. Bridget went to a post office to buy stamps

(for the postcards) and I stood around, trying not to look like a tourist. A young girl was

setting up stalls outside a shop; stocking the trays and talking to an old man wearing therequired cap and tweeds. The odd thing was: she spoke only English and he spoke only

Irish. I could almost follow the conversation from listening to her half. We stopped in a

woolens shop and found out that the Aran Isle sweaters we wanted were brought in fromCork. So, we decided to wait until we got to the Blarney Woolen Mills (in Cork). We

stopped in a pub and had lunch and a pint. Then we wandered about some more and

decided to drive on.

The coastal roads presented a fork; the beach road and the sky road (yup - sky road). We

chose the beach road and it was a pleasant view but it stopped at the boat club a couple of

miles along - oh well. We back tracked and then took the sky road (there's a song here

somewhere).

The sky road follows the top of the cliffs. The cliff edge is protected by a two foot highstone wall and the land edge by an equally rocky hillside. One lane. If you meet another

car (sheep. horse, cow, bicycle, whatever), someone has to cower in a small crescent pull-

off, if there is one - or- backup until there is. There was one occasion when I needed apull-off and - there was one. For anyone interested in Chaos Theory (the theory is that

there is no such thing as random, just unpredictable) - this road is a perfect study.

Although, I think the pull-offs are created, ad hoc.

The sky road took us north and then east to the much better road across the top ofConnemara. There were miles and miles of peat bogs and many walls where the peat had

been cut. The peat stacks were teepee shaped piles of rectangular peat slabs. We picked

up a couple of dutch girls hitchhiking (back packs, front packs, bottom packs). One hadbeen in Ireland since last September and spoke English with an Irish accent; fascinating.

We stopped at

Kylemore Abbey. Noone should go to

Ireland without

seeing the Abbey. It

caters very much totourists, but it is

quietly and tastefully

done and the Abbey ismagnificent. Sitting

on a lake edge backed

by a lushmountainside. The

Abbey is still a Catholic girl's school. We knew we didn't have the time to go in on the

tour; we were told we would have seen the girls in their uniforms. So what? Bridget went

to a Catholic Girl's School; maybe she wanted to compare blazers.


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We continued on to Cong (just inside County Mayo) and the rest of the sheep-choked

countryside. The reason for the visit to Cong was Bridget's fondness for The Quiet Man. Idon't really like John Wayne much but I admit I like him in The Quiet Man. Many of the

local people were used in the film and during the filming they were told they were to

have electric power installed. They were elated until they found out they had to pay for it.Then they decided they didn't need it. It looks pretty much as it did in the film. Cohan's

pub, to our disappointment, wasn't a pub; it was a souvenir shop. We had a snack and a

pint and realized we were out of time.Cong was a departure from the figure eight so we had to backtrack. Back west and then a

left turn and south through Maam Cross again. This starts us back to completing the

bottom loop of the eight. As we headed for the bottom of the peninsula (and Galway

Bay). We passed through a Gaeltacht; Irish speaking - only. The signs were only in Gaelicbut you can figure them out.

It was bleak and barren. The only place in our entire trip that struck us as unpleasant.

Maybe we were just tired. Late that night we wandered back, from the opposite direction,

into Salt Hill and our B&B. We walked out to the pub and dinner.I know this is about driving, but if you can, go to the pubs on foot. If the gardai (police)

stop you driving drunk, your vacation could be over. Back to bed to collapse.Day Four

This was the day I dreaded. Bridget had arranged a lunch with her cousins in Dublin and

we were booked into a bed & breakfast in Cork that same night. This meant I had to driveacross the breadth of the country and then drive (even farther) down to the center of the

south coast. All in the same day.

Before we left Galway, I stopped to top up with petrol. A tour company had said there

were no 'rest rooms' in the petrol stations - wrong. Almost all of them had rest rooms andeven little mini-marts. Just like the States. Anyway, I was talking to the attendant (no self-

serve in Ireland that we came across) and asked him if he thought the weather would

clear up. It was cloudy, grey and we'd had some sprinkles. "Well", he said, "the weather'svurry changeable this time of yarh. We get sum turrible starms and there's no shelter from

here to Boston". I don't think he was quite right, the 'last parish before Brooklyn' is the

Skellig Islands; but close enough. Now that I think about it, there's probably not muchshelter on the Skelligs.

The Dublin road ( the Irish just call the main roads by where you're going; Dublin road,

Cork road and so on) was a main road and overall, very good. Wait, there is a small

wrinkle. Unless it is a true motorway, it's dotted with small villages. The average speedthrough these charming obstacles is 20. I think this is why the Irish drive so fast. They

know that the villages will bring their average speed down to something like 50 miles per

hour.Yes, we did get to Dublin - in 2 hours 25 minutes, but it then took 30 minutes to get to

O'Connell Street. This was a Saturday. Do not expect Saturday to be a good day for

travel; it's market day. That's right, more traffic than any rush hour. You're better offdriving during the week.

We had originally planned on meeting the cousins at the Burlington House but the car

rental agent had suggested we change to the Royal Dublin Hotel since they had a rental

office and I could park for free.


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I stopped outside the hotel and Bridget ran in to ask where their garage was so I could

park. She came running out and we drove around the end of the block to an alley behind

the hotel. The garage was underneath and the garage was new when G.B. Shaw was aboy. I had a few inches either side down into the cement pillared tomb. I would guess it

parked twenty cars - if they were placed by helicopter. I managed, (hardly any other cars-

probably smart enough not to try) and we went up into the hotel.One of Bridget's cousins had brought her husband, thank God. He and I could have a

conversation that didn't involve historic relations. He volunteered to drive down to the

Burlington Hotel and pick up some other cousins. I went along.He was parked (as only a Dubliner could) in an alley behind Bewley's Coffee Shop at the

other end of O'Connell Street. We walked down and stopped so I could buy some maps.

Then we walked on, across O'Connell Bridge and turned into the coffee house. The coffee

smelled so good I wish we'd stopped.Out the back door to an alley and his car. Michael (Michael McCarthy), then took a path

across town that, from above, would look something like the route of a pinball as it

bounces its way down after 'tilt'. At the Burlington carpark we drove past the cousins just

walking in after being dropped off. We made hurried introductions and returned in avariation of the pinball path - I doubt if you can actually reverse the route due to one-way

streets.The cousins and I got out and Michael left to find another mouse hole to park his car.

Michael considers himself a modern 'Euro-Irishman' but he still has the wonderfulinverted view of all Irish. I asked him whether I should take the N-8 or the N-6 to Cork.

He looked at me and then said "just take the Cork Road". I said, what's the N - number

routing for? and he said, "that's for tourists".

Ah, "The Quiet Man". No Irish-American who's seen that film can ever get away from

the thought of visiting the homeland. The dialog is superb and the comedy is irresistible.

At the very start of the film, John Wayne is asking how to get to Innisfree. The trainengineer points to a sign post and says, "you see that road there, well don't take that one,

it'll do you no good". We all laugh. Ready?

The wonder of the Irish is their inversion - that line is an accurate portrayal of what toexpect.

On the way out of Dublin we ran to the end of the motorway. I did not see a turn-off of

any kind. The motorway came to a roundabout that had five choices, none of which was a

continuation. I picked one at random and we pulled into a residential street. I saw a manwalking so we pulled into a driveway. He was well dressed, suit and tie, and I counted on

directions.

"You see that white van just there? - well don't follow him. And you see those cars at the

light - she's on that side -she'll see it well. They're going over that bridge - well don't go

over the bridge. You'll see the signs for Cork and the south." (this to Bridget) " you're onthat side - look for the south -look for the south". I decided that if you ask directions, just

subtract everything they say from the possibilities and follow whatever is left.

We launched ourselves into the stream of cars and somehow stumbled on the missing


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signpost and the motorway to Cork. The motorways are excellent but be prepared for the

Dublin young. They were passing me and I vow they were going 90 to 100 miles an hour.

Even so, it was a very easy drive. The countryside was pretty and I didn't see a singlesheep (on the road, anyway).

Somewhere along in here, about halfway, we stopped for petrol. We'd passed major roadconstruction with signs describing the work as the Ballysomething bypass. They're

trying to update the highway systems to help along through traffic. We were chatting to

the owner and Bridget asked "what do you think about all the new road work?". "Doesn'tmatter to me, I've sold - I'm going fishing". He seemed to be very happy about it all. That

seems a good example of the Irish vs. American attitude.

We got into Cork about nine, twilight. If it hadn't been a sunny day, I would have been inthe dark. Well, lack of light, I was in the dark in many other ways already. Coming from

the Northeast and trying to find the bed & breakfast on the opposite side of the city (and

the rivers) on the southwest made me apprehensive. There was a fair amount of traffic

and the roads had clearly evolved over time. I kept turning and driving in whateverdirection looked like it would get me across the rivers and went generally to the right and,

sort of, ahead.

At one point I was driving up a steep one lane - um - lane with shops and pubs and cars

parked on both sides up on the footpath. Another good example of courtesy, no two carswere directly opposite each other. A slalom, yes, but passable.

Day Five

Sunday and I vowed I would not drive anywhere. I recommend a pre-planned day when

you don't even get into the car - it's good for the soul (and the seat). Well, in my case itdidn't work. Her majesty insisted we go to Blarney. Jane and Terry had arrived at our

same B & B the night before. Jane wanted to kiss the Blarney stone and Bridget wanted

to buy everything they sell at the woolen mills and see the castle. So, I drove.

If you can, get a map of any city where you might spend time. They sell city maps that

are very good and well worth the trouble. After all, there aren't that many cities anyway.The Blarney Woolen Mills - aren't. It's a very large shopping mall; teeming with people

who are not Irish. It's at the very foot of Blarney Castle (remember the Blarney Stone?).

Tourists go up the stone steps to kiss the stone. It takes forever and the steps are so steep

you're kissing the steps all the way to the top. I would have called it done and left, butyou can't go back. There are 37 Germans in line behind you. If you have the stamina and

you're not afraid of heights, do go kiss the Blarney Stone. Otherwise, at least, visit the

woolen mills. The prices are good and it's fun. I found a very nice tweed jacket.On the way back from Blarney I missed a turn and went across the north of the city.

When I got turned around and came back I was in the midst of a major traffic snarl.

What? In Ireland? Yup, there was a soccer game that night, uh- no, I take it back I think itwas a hurling match. If you can find a schedule of hurling matches, stay home on those

days. If you want to see the match, wear padded clothing and walk. The Irish take their

Hurling vurrry seriously.

As soon as we returned to the B & B I went on strike. No more driving today. Jane and


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Bridget wanted to see FitzGerald Park and Terry wanted a pint. We compromised, Jane

and Bridget went off to see the park and Terry and I went to the Crow's Nest pub.

When the ladies returned, we had something to eat and some more pints. Next to our

table were four girls. Somehow, Bridget began to wax nostalgic about her days at the

Ursuline Convent school and then waned trying to remember the Hail Mary. A pub can dothese things. The adjacent girls laughed. They, we now know, were celebrating their

graduation from - the Ursuline. We pushed the tables together and all cheerily recited the

Hail Mary. There was never a more happy recitation. Bridget and the girls comparedmemories of the nuns. The nuns received a good natured drubbing.

One of the girls was a fluent Irish language speaker, but she pointed out that she never

used it. Even in the Gaeltacht's? No, because the native speaker's were never satisfiedwith her pronunciation. Since every Gaeltacht has different pronunciation, you couldn't

win. Did I mention the Crow's Nest was next door to our B & B? Good thing too.

Day Six

We left Cork goingsouthwest to continue

along the south coast to alittle spot called

Glengarriff. Our first stop

was Kinsale, just south ofCork, on the water. The

Today Show was there

and we could see why.

The village is fairly largeand has some plush

hotels. There are swans in

the harbour and pleasureboats, not just fishing

vessels. The village car

park was interesting. Youpull in and there are no

attendants. You find a

shop (stationer's, usually) and buy a parking pass. This pass has times printed on it and

you punch it with a sharp something (I used my car keys). Then you hang this sheet ofpaper over the top edge of the side window and close the window to hold it in place. New

to me, but easy enough. It has the instructions printed on the pass.

After a stroll around and lunch, onto the coast road. Time was precious; the B&B's have a

common convention about checking in. If you don't call and let them know you'll be

arriving after six o'clock, they can give away your room. Even if you have prepaidreservations. I recommend you make a note of that.The south west coast is actually

subtropical. The gulf stream reaches across the Atlantic and bumps into Ireland. It is lush

and of course, beautiful. You become slightly jaded after a few days. All the roads have

many places to pull off, enjoy the view and take pictures to prove you weren't lying. After


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a while I would ask Bridget if she wanted to stop and take a picture and she'd say "no

we'll get the next one". I'll admit when we got back home, we often had trouble figuring

out where some of the photographs were taken; it all started to look alike.

Rolling along through Clonakilty, Skibereen and around the curve of Bantry Bay we

reached Glengarriff before six o'clock.

When you drive in Ireland the distances are usually in kilometers. The arithmetic you use

to convert to miles is simple, divide the kilometers by three and multiply the result bytwo. To avoid this nuisance, don't bother. Make the assumption that the number of

kilometers is actually miles. Why? Because, the roads wind and the obstacles slow you

down and the time you think it will take works out about right. It worked for me.

Glengarriff is a small village. That said, it has more than one hotel and more than two

pubs and numerous little shops. The reason is a little island off the coast called Garinish

Island. This island is devoted to a beautiful subtropical garden called Ilnacullin. Bridget

insisted we go look, which is why we were there. It took a little time to find our B&B.After check-in and unload it was time to go walk about and, of course, stop at a pub.

What Bridget didn't know was this was the place for my nefarious surprise birthday party.Six of our friends from the States had arranged to secretly meet me and surprise her the

next night.

We strolled past the ticket booth for Ilnacullin and were shouted at to come take the ferry.I said to Bridget we'll do it tomorrow. One of the ferrymen said, "you've only 'til

October"(this was May). You can get very fond of the Irish.

My plan was to arrange as much as possible for the next day to keep Bridget busy until

the surprise. I knew there would be some timing glitch and I wanted to be sure we were inthe village all day. Besides, that would give me a whole day without driving. This would

not be easy. Bridget wanted to drive around the 'Ring of Kerry'; that would take the entire

day and into the dark. The rest of the day was spent having dinner and listening to liveIrish music in a pub called Johnny Barry's.

More to come...and more about driving in part 2

Travelling to Ireland? Please click to return to ourTravel Home Page.

Driving In Ireland

Part Twoby Russ Haggerty

If you missed partone clickDriving in

Ireland Part One

The day of the

surprise birthday

party for Bridget had

arrived. What to do?
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If I let her force me to drive the 'Ring of Kerry', we wouldn't get back until too late to

spring the surprise. Astonishingly, the weather was foggy and drizzly; we couldn't see

anything. One of the locals had said, "if you can't see the top of the mountains, there's noreason to go". We couldn't see the tops of the trees. Putting on my saddest face, I

bemoaned the truth. If we tried to drive, we wouldn't even know which way to point the

camera. We would have to stay in the village (heh, heh, heh).Day Seven

We took the ferry to the gardens; breathtaking even in the rain. The gardens turned out to

be more than just a beautiful spot to see. This is where I took the photograph that becamethe cover of Bridget's book. Amazingly, the light was perfect, even in the drizzle.

After the walk through the gardens, we had lunch and I took a nap while Bridget went

shopping. After she returned, I told her I was going down the road to the pay phone to

call the B & B and confirm our arrival the next night. Well, I did, but I also went toJohnny Barry's and secretly met the group. I told them I'd bring her in about six o'clock;

could they be ready? Sure they could; they'd just stay there. Uh huh, I thought, they'll all

be nicely toasted by then.

We went to Johnny Barry's for dinner and I walked around - right past the group - and upto bar. Bridget was behind and followed me. She didn't recognize them (out of context, I

guess). With her back to the crowd, camera flashes lit up the pub and the trap was sprung.She turned around in confusion and all her friends were grinning at her.

The entire pub commenced Happy Birthday to you. Of course, they wouldn't stop. The

idea was for Bridget to stand up and make a speech. Well, Bridget wasn't having any, Ihad to tell them to stop, sigh, damned Americans.

There was an entertainer and he was very good but that wasn't enough. One after another,

various locals were invited to 'give us a song' and they were expecting it. One had

brought his flute with him. A barmaid with a beautiful voice even sang Summertime.Later in the evening, someone suggested champagne - for the birthday. They didn't have

any, so someone went a couple of miles down the road and picked one up at a hotel. I

suspect we saved that lonely bottle from spoiling. Another mystery was a birthday cakethat materialized complete with candles. None of our surprise party knew where it came

from and in the midst of all the craic, we never questioned it.

I went to the bar and the bartender asked: "all these people came over here to surpriseher?". I said, "yes". "My God" he mumbled in awe.

I went to the men's room and there were two locals ahead of me. "So, she's fifty?" "Yes,

she is." "She looks well for fifty". "Yes, she does". "You don't look so well". I didn't feel

so well, either. "Well, I'm married to her". A good laugh and a sympathetic pat on theshoulder.


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It was perfect, we spent a horrible amount of money and closed the pub. While we are

here in Glengarriff, not actually on the road, I think its a good time to talk about someother driving issues. I did my homework before we left. I suggest the same to you.

We didn't go to Northern Ireland. As everyone knows, the peace progress has changed

Northern Ireland for the better. I don't know if it's still true but there used to be spots

called 'Control Zones', where your car absolutely could not be left unattended. If you did,you may come back to find your car had been blown up. The police or soldiers assumed it

had a bomb in it. Now, you know one reason why we didn't go there. Another thing about

Northern Ireland. Red, white and blue kerbstones meant you were in a Protestant area;green, white and orange kerbstones meant you were in a Catholic area. I think it would

pay to look like a tourist.

Even so, we do plan to go to the north on our next trip. The Haggertys are from Donegal;I wonder if they'll give me a discount on some nice tweeds. Of course, all tweeds in

Ireland are Donegal tweeds; just like all tweeds in Scotland are Harris tweeds. I think I

should give the family the business.Day EightAfter the festivities of the night before, we were slow starting. We met the rest of the

friends and arranged to tour the same scenery sort of together and meet for lunch in

Kenmare.We drove out of Glengarriff and turned left. This took us down the south coast of the

Beara peninsula. Back to the narrow roads and the sheep. The idea was not to go the

whole length, but turn right (northwest) to cut across the spine of mountains at a peakcalled the Healy Pass.

The drive was the usual - "look out for that sheep" - beautiful countryside and drop offs

down to the ocean. After we turned up the mountain track to the pass, the road turned into

one lane and doubled back and forth in the predictable sidewinder snake pattern. Stonewalls and waterfalls cascaded down on both sides of us (yes, some stones too).


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We stopped almost at

the top and took

pictures of the roadbelow and behind. At

one spot, a flock of

sheep were in theway and another car

in front veered and

stopped. Yup,American tourists,

the guy got out and

yelled "I've never

seen anything likethis in my life" (neither had we). One lamb was trapped on the road side of a stonewall

and kept jumping up at the wall he couldn't clear. The mother jumped the wall from the

other side (the wall was a good 5 feet high) and the lamb glued itself to mama's side.

Then they ran together straight down the middle of the road in front of us. I crawledalong behind and finally realized if I turned to the right I could herd them off to the grass.

It worked. This was the one time I wished we'd brought a video camera.

A little farther on, we came to a handful of cows. We hadn't seen many cows before, in

the middle of the road anyway. These cows didn't herd very easily. I threaded my waythrough and received two smears on my side windows from cow noses. I don't think they

ever moved (they're probably still standing there today - say hello for us).

At the top, we stopped and the rest of the group caught up to us. We all did oooo and

aaahh for a while and then kept going. The view was down to the ocean on the north sideand, between the pass and the shore, were lakes tucked into the corners at different

heights; it looked as if it had been designed by a gardener.

We continued down to the coast and then turned right again to head back to Kenmare; ourmeeting place for lunch. Kenmare is a fairly large village and unlike some, it was very

crowded; well it was lunchtime.

Don't expect to find many parking lots (in spite of Fodor's saying there are many); thestreet is the most likely place to park. There are car parks in the large cities, however. The

street in front of our chosen restaurant was full. I turned into a small side road and found

a spot. Again Fodor's says there are meters in Dublin but now that I think about it, I don't

ever remember seeing a parking meter - anywhere.It was the usual very good lunch, but we didn't linger. We were to be at a B & B in

Bunratty (near Shannon airport) that night. Another couple had to be at Dublin airport for

a flight that afternoon. Yes, they made it; I still don't know how.It is a small country. As a comparison, the whole island (including Northern Ireland, of

course) is quite a few square miles smaller than the state of Ohio; but don't let that fool

you. The mountains, rivers, loughs and ponds make it very complex and the roads reflectthis.


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Off to the Dingle.

The Dingle peninsula ismuch like the Beara; we

took the same approach.

We turned left and wentdown the south coast,

Again, we didn't go the

entire length (when youget to the very tip of

some of these, the roads

almost cease to exist). We

drove down to Inch pastthe Inch Strand, a long,

wide beautiful sandy

beach. Another

incongruous scene inIreland? So we thought -

no, they have wideexpanses of sandy beaches in many places. We continued down to the major seaside town

of Dingle. Almost to the end, but not quite.

We stopped and browsed the town; had an early supper and pint, and took numerouspictures. Leaving Dingle we turned right on a 45 degree angle back and went up the

mountain (again the peninsula has a spine of mountains down the middle) to a crossover

called the Conner pass. Of course, it was beautiful scenery and after the pause and

pictures we went down the other side to the road out. I turned right to leave the peninsulaand headed east to the vale of Tralee.

By now it was getting late in the day and we had to bolt for Limerick and Bunratty. Wewent through Tralee and burned up the main road to Limerick. Almost to Limerick, I

realized I didn't know where the B & B was. We stopped in a beautiful village called

Adare to make a phone call and get directions.Adare is a fairly large town with more than the usual number of old castles, abbeys,

manors and thatched cottages. It's apparently a popular stop for the Irish as well as

tourists. We stopped outside a pub called Lena's (Bridget's mother's nickname) and took a

picture. Then blasted up the road to Limerick.Limerick is a pretty large industrial city and not much to look at. We turned left and

headed out toward Bunratty. Almost to the first roundabout we came to a stop. There

were three police (gardai) in the middle of the road (this looked like a motorway to me).It turned out they were checking auto registrations to see that they were current. They

stopped and talked to every car and were laughing and joking with the drivers. It's a very

different world, nobody was mad. I asked one if I was OK to get to Bunratty and he said"I'm not one of the locals" and called over another who said "Oh, yes, just take the next

left and follow the signs". We flew off again.

The road to our B & B was between Bunratty Castle and Durty Nellie's pub. I passed it

once thinking it was a parking entrance. Realising there was no other choice, I made the


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turn and we found it easily.

The vacation was running out, but there was one last scheduled event - the Medieval

Banquet at Bunratty castle the next night.Day Nine

There remained a favor to perform. Bridget's friend, Jane, is a FitzGerald. She didn't have

the chance to go to the FitzGerald family manor, in Glin. We were fairly close in Bunrattyand promised we would go down and see the manor and bring back some pictures. Glin is

southwest and we had to backtrack to Limerick and turn right to follow the coast of the

Shannon estuary.I wanted to stop on the way back and top up the petrol tank. There's a good reason for

that; the rental car would credit me back the initial charge for a full tank. This meant I

should either bring it back on empty or bring it back full and get the credit. I feel that the

shade of how much was left versus how much was used from full was in my favor if itwas full. This is often the same in the United States.

The drive down was on good roads and uneventful. A pretty view did pull us off to a 'rest

stop'; the only one that looked almost like they do in the states. It had benches and what I

thought was a boat launch ramp. There was a road sign I could not resist, a stylized imageof a car going into the water. It was very clear what you could expect if you drove too far.

We found the village and missed a turn. The country was pretty as usual, and after toomuch of it I realized I should go back. On the way back we saw a sign that couldn't have

been seen coming from the other direction. This has happened to me at home but I must

admit it seemed to happen more often in Ireland. I read that sign twisting is a commonsport of the fairies. I suspect the rosy cheeked young rascals with red hair myself.

At the entrance to Glin castle (or manor) there was a car park and an imposing archway. I

parked and we walked through. It turned out that the arch introduced a very long drive

but I needed the walk so we kept going.The manor is magnificent and you can stay there for about 200 a night - a little rich for

my blood. We were told it was still owned and lived in by a FitzGerald. We were started

on a tour by a very knowledgeable and pleasant lady but she warned us a tour bus wasdue to arrive and cut us short. It did and we were. She suggested we show ourselves the

gardens, so we did that. Then we walked back and left.

I realize this reads as if I rarely got out of the car. Well, it felt like that sometimes, butthere was certainly more walking and sitting than driving. This is intended to be useful

for anyone driving in Ireland, so put it down to that.

That night we were booked for the Medieval Banquet at Bunratty Castle. This is

something even the Irish enjoy and I recommend it. There's a tour and then someone fromthe crowd is selected to be the lord of the castle. The dinner is launched with medieval

customs and entertainment. The food is served in a way that only requires a knife. The

entertainment and the food were superb, but I thought the entertainment was morerenaissance than medieval - which I prefer.

The castle itself is worth the visit. They have a pair of stag antlers on the wall. They are

enormous; taken from the moat of the castle in recent times, they prove that magnificentdeer once roamed the country. A great time and then a stop at the local pub before bed.

If you visit Bunratty Castle, the local pub isn't Durty Nellie's, that's for tourists. The true

local is Mac's, it's part of the recreation of a traditional Irish village. Incongruous, but

true. They were as much or more entertainment than any contrivance for the tourists. One


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character collected pins. A squeeze box appeared and they passed it from hand to hand,

each doing a tune. Everyone danced.

Day TenThis was the departure day and we wanted to be sure we had plenty of time. We woke

early and headed to the airport. There was a traffic jam. Only the third one in the whole

trip; remember the first was in Dublin on market day and the second was the hurlingmatch in Cork. We can only guess that it was simply rush hour around the airport and the

commuters of Limerick. No problem. I filled the tank for the benefit of my rental credit

and we went to the rental return. There wasn't anybody there.Get used to this, the warm, casual air in Ireland is also reflected in the lack of stress over

punctuality. We stood around for a bit and someone showed up. I turned over the

paperwork and asked for my credit. He said OK and drove us to the departure terminal.

We forgot a tape in the car tape player. After we got back we called the rental companyand asked about it. We never saw it again.

Don't make our mistake - take your time and be sure you have everything before you

leave. Also, don't assume as I did, that the paperwork will be sent to you. Mine never

was. So stay for the calculations and take those too.That's it. But before I go there's one oddity we almost didn't catch. Early on, Bridget's

brother Terry turned to me and asked. "Have you seen any policemen?". None of us hadand from then on we made a point to look for and count any we saw. Guess how many

police cars and policemen we saw on the entire trip? Ready? Three police cars - all

empty. Six policemen: the three checking the car registrations between Limerick andShannon Airport, one directing traffic for the match in Cork, one walking in Galway City

and one standing at the bridge rail in Dublin.

I guess (and hope) they don't need many. About the only consistent "crimes" we read

about in the Irish papers were pub owners being fined for staying open beyond closingtime. I conclude that if you expect prompt assistance from police on the road, you're

likely to have a long wait. There just aren't that many of them.

Alright, I hope you enjoyed the story. I just couldn't write my version of the Irish Driver's

Manual; I get bored too easily. Now that I've made my excuses, there are a few driving

points and comments I didn't mention. Some I just forgot, and some I didn't really runinto. This should also be considered a summing up.

The roads in Ireland vary at least as much as they do in the United States. Yes, they have

motorways and they have more now than when we were there. They are building them atan alarming rate. So fast that the Irish are not all that happy about it. The Black Family

actually sing a song about the trucks going through where the cabbages grew (it's clear

they don't consider this kind of progress all good).

Bridget and I discussed the idea of retiring there. We're reconsidering the plan. It's notjust the weather; I'm afraid by the time we get there the majority of the country may look

like an American suburb and most of our neighbors could be other retired Americans -

ugh.The Irish are very fond of America - unduly fond - in my view. All right, enough, I'll get

down from my soapbox.

Let's get back to driving. Here are some points to ponder and or note (or ignore, if youlike adventure).


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Most of the miles we drove were over smooth, wide clear roads - at high speed. Most of

thetime we drove was spent on narrow, precipitous walled or hedged-in roads.The

apprehension that goes with driving on the left doesn't occur unless you're in a town orcity where there are other cars. After all, once you're on the main roads the only concern

is going straight (and the Dublin twenty-four year old a few inches from your rear

bumper). When you're on the cow and sheep tracks there is no left or right. The onlyconcern that recurs is 'how close am I over on the left'. If you have a passenger, you're

fine until you hear them scream or they flinch toward you - then you're probably too

close.I noticed I didn't cover any of the 'Roadway Markings' (you know - stripes). The reason is

simple, they're pretty much the same as in the United States. There are a couple that

should be mentioned though.

One is the dash yellow. It's on the left and used on roads with a hard shoulder. This isn'twhat I expected. The Irish version of a 'hard shoulder' looks like a dual-carriageway to

me - it's not. The shoulder, as wide and smooth as it is - should not be considered a lane.

It's for tractors, bicycles and pedestrians (if they have the nerve). You can move over to

let another car pass, but you should immediately return to the proper (righthand) lane.Another novel marking is the 'contra-flow bus lane'. This is a double solid stripe on the

right.That's correct - the right. It's to indicate that buses have exclusive use of that lane -contrary to the flow of traffic. For heaven's sake don't drive in that lane - unless you fancy

the idea of being smeared across the nose of a bus. There are also 'with flow' bus lanes

and you're not supposed to drive in those either; even if it isn't as dangerous. These buslanes are comparatively rare, so you should be aware in advance.

Here are some other unfamiliar markings that are usually only found in large towns or

cities.

Well, parking is the bane of an Irish city. The towns aren't so bad - a side street canusually do. But it seemed to me every time I saw a pleasant parking space, it had stripes.

They are on the left, of course. The single solid yellow means don't park during business

hours. I never was sure what the hours were, so I didn't park. Remember, I avoideddriving at night. The double yellow means don't park - period. I should note they have

clamps.

If you haven't heard of clamps before, you're in for a nasty surprise. The clamp is a deviceattached to a wheel usually. You can open your car, get in, start it up, and listen to the

radio - you can't go anywhere. The clamp immobilizes the car. If they get you, it's not just

expensive to get your car back on the road - it's a real time-consuming nuisance.

Now, this last one fascinated me. It's a very clever and inexpensive way to produce theequivalent of a multi-way stop - without slowing traffic or making work for the Gardai.

They have a paint pattern on the road in appropriate places. It's a cross hatch in stripes

about six inches wide; this is known as a 'Box Junction'. You are never supposed to stopon this area. In other words you stop before it unless you are clear to proceed through to

the other side. Once again, the Irish didn't pay much attention to it.

We should though, we're guests.When I say the Irish, of course it's a generality. There are very conscientious Irish drivers

- they tend to be older. The average age in Ireland is about twenty-four. You will see and

run into (not literally I trust) more of these young Irish drivers. Many have the same

regrettable driving habits as their counterparts in the States. You will read more and more


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about the sharp rise in accidents in Ireland; many of them fatal.

Watch yourself. I was chased by one of these young Dublin girls for quite a few miles.

She was a couple of feet from my rear and I was doing about seventy-five miles per hour.I couldn't pull over to let her by until after five or ten minutes, I saw a pub with a gravel

parking area. I pulled off and stopped. As she went flashing by (accelerating) she looked

at me and pointed forward through her windscreen. I guess she was trying to excuse herdangerous driving by indicating a major crisis somewhere ahead (or maybe she was late

for a party?).

Even after this hair-raising example, perhaps the most dangerous drivers we encountered(and dodged) were tourists. Whatever make, model and color rental car you get, watch for

duplicates. They're probably other tourists and they may be even more dangerous than

you are.

Actually, you may take comfort from this - there are very few people in Ireland.Therefore, there are very few cars on the roads. They all tend to be crowded into the cities

and towns.

When you're rolling slowly through the rugged scenery, you can often stop in the middle

of the road, get out and take a few pictures. Many do and if someone comes along, theywon't complain. They may get out and have a chat. Oh, unless they're Americans; we

Americans can be obnoxious. After all, we have to cover all of the Ring of Kerry withinthe next two and a half hours to stay on schedule.

Well, that's about all I'm

prepared to write. Oops,I almost forgot - you

must be over twenty

three and no older than

seventy four to drive inIreland. This makes

sense to me. If you're

under twenty three -you're part of the

problem. If you're over

seventy four, giveyourself a rest and take

the tours. Or at least, take

the trains and buses -

you've earned it.

One last point, always

remember, if the roadactually does 'rise to meet you', you're doing something wrong.

If you really want to prepare yourself (and this story wasn't enough) get a copy of theIrish 'Rules of the Road'. Most travel agencies should be able to manage this. If not, you

can buy it from the Irish government for about three bucks. Here's the address:

Government Publications Office

Sun AllianceHouse


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Molesworth Street

Dublin 2, Eire.

Good luck to you - and watch out for that sheep.

Travelling to Ireland? Please click to return to ourTravel Home Page.
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