was aboard the ill-fated Endurance with
Irish Antarctic explorer Ernest Shackleton.
Still standing today, in Annascaul, is the
pub Crean founded when he retired, the
South Pole Inn, now plastered with portraits,
cuttings and medals celebrating his exploits.
Before the path returns us to the village,
it takes in Annascaul Lake — a pool of
quicksilver in the crook of a valley dotted
with Fresian cows and curly horned sheep.
We plonk ourselves down on the bank, among
the bell heathers. “Appreciating nature, for
me, is a process of unlearning, trying to find a
state of wonder, curiosity, unknowing,” Ciarán
confesses. “You may think you know a place, a
scene — but try to look closer.”The wild west
I bid Ciarán goodbye in the pretty tourist
town of Killarney and drive on along empty
coastal lanes, until I cross into County
Cork. The landscape is so rugged, rural and
untouched, it’s easy to believe you’re the
first traveller to stumble upon it. Unpaved
roads, braided across the Beara Peninsula,
bring me to postcard-perfect, pastel-hued
Allihies, with its dramatic ruined engine
houses — a reminder that this was once a
thriving copper mining village. And in the
fishing port of Castletownbere, I eat morethan I can justify at the Beara Coast Hotel:
buttery scallops, line-caught fish and salty
samphire, followed by a platter of local
cheeses (Milleens, Durrus and Beara Blue).
Afterwards, I sip pints of Guinness with
locals in MacCarthy’s Bar. A tense game of
Gaelic football is unfolding on the television,
and I’m accepted into the fray with the
cheerful question, “Who are you shouting
for?” from the barmaid.
The next day, I press on, parking the car
and taking the tiny wooden cable-car across
to Dursey Island for a hike. As old cables
crank the carriage across the seething
strait below, I notice a bottle of holy water
from Knock and a psalm pinned to the wall
— presumably to reassure travellers of a
nervous disposition. “I’ve also got a bottle of
whiskey if you need a little extra courage,” a
passenger sitting opposite me jokes.
The island is a revelation: lobster crates
and tame donkeys decorate cottage gardens;
a ruined abbey, said to have been built by
the monks of Skellig Michael, haunts a cliff;
stonechats click and flutter among hedges
of tasty blackberries. During the summer,
I read, it’s a great spot for whale-watching.
Dursey, I also discover, has a tragic history
that demands to be heard: in 1602, Queen
Elizabeth I’s forces massacred 300-oddBantry House, a stately
home and museum with
guest rooms overlooking
Bantry Bay on Sheep’s
Head peninsula; it’s still
run by descendants of its
18th-century founders
Jul/Aug 2020 91IRELAND