Ireland

The memory of the memorable dinner at Paddyfrog is still very much alive when we wake up early ready for breakfast. Descend the stairs leading to the ground floor of this wonderful b & b and ask for our daily dose of pancakes.

The cloudy sky is gray but are moving quickly and let us hope for an imminent lightened timely that not long in coming. We continue our trip and we head for Dingle. We meet an immense bog bordered by an impenetrable forest. Convinced that certainly is the abode of some fairy, we park and we go through the trees. The play of light that filters through the leafy barely covered with moss is amazing. We walk on what seems an immense soft and furry animals. Our footsteps make no sound completely absorbed by the silence of the forest. The atmosphere is worthy of a fantasy saga and reluctantly take up the road.

About twenty miles before Dingle is the beach of Inch (so called because it looks like a big toe of sand and dunes that stretches into the ocean). The sun is high in the sky and the wind starts whipping it's time to prepare the kite. The gusts of wind, I allow some evolution and, I confess, I enjoy as a child. The feeling of having all that wind in your hands is intoxicating.

We allow ourselves a break at the beach cafes, where a showcase full of all sorts of sweet wins easily our resistance. From the window of the coffee you can enjoy a magnificent view of the beach and once again I feel invaded, drenched, permeated of Ireland. Ireland did not you tell it with words or pictures. The Ireland must feel with its icy wind, the smell of burning peat, the clinking of glasses and the smile of an old man who seems to have a thousand and one stories to tell.

We resumed our march, and enjoy the unhurried way down the coast last show before reaching the peninsula of Kerry and Dingle Connor Pass Road where it will stay for the night.