Caves, puffins, and clapotis…the Dingle Peninsula in southwest Ireland is a kayaker’s dream, a bucket list destination for many. In an uncharacteristically warm and sunny July, our group of eleven explored arches, islands, and headlands in Dingle’s coastal waters by day and pubs by night. With an all-star team of Dale Williams and Debbie Kearney of Tybee Island, Georgia and Nigel Dennis and Eila Wilkinson of Holyhead, Wales, how could our trip not be great?
On our first day, we launched from Ventry Harbor for a shake-down paddle along the coast. We shared our launch with a group of Irish children taking swimming lessons. Clad in wet-suits, groups of children jumped off the pier to tread water, a good exercise for those living close to cold water. (I felt very warm in my drysuit.) Seeing the children and the boats around the harbor reminded me how much Ireland’s history, culture, and economy is tied to the sea. I learned more about Ireland’s marine heritage when we paddled to the Blasket Islands later that week.
For many visitors to the Dingle Peninsula, visiting the Blasket Islands is a highlight. Arriving by kayak made it even better. The paddle across the channel was short, maybe 45 minutes. After surveying the tidal flow, we set our ferry angle and paddled first to Beginish Island, then to Great Blasket itself. Nigel promised us seals, and there they were, swimming around the rocks just offshore. They popped up around us like Whac-A-Mole, sometimes they surprised us, and sometimes we surprised them.
After visiting the seals, we landed on the sandy beach of Great Blasket. The blue water was so clear, so Caribbean-like that I finally gave into temptation and went for a swim—in my drysuit.
From the beach, we climbed up a steep path to a group of stone buildings. We heard rumors of coffee, and they were true! One building held a much welcome coffee and snack shop, which we all appreciated. A smaller unpainted building housed a weaver who spun her own wool and knitted scarves and hats. She lives on the island through the summer, until fall storms halt the ferry service. I bought a hat made from the wool of a Jacob sheep, a four-horned sheep that called Beezelbub to mind.
Great Blasket has no permanent residents now, but until 1953, islanders fished and farmed the island. Only ruins remain of their homes, but I can only imagine how difficult it was to eke out a living on that rocky soil. And to get back and forth from the mainland. In addition to fish and farms, the island also produced important Irish writers in the 1920s and 30s who chronicled the islanders’ lives.
The Blaskets consist of six islands. One of the smaller Blaskets—Tearaght—loomed in the distance, almost taunting us. When Eila planted the seed of paddling beyond Great Blasket to Tearaght, I couldn’t resist. It would be a big day, but it also a big adventure.
We were on the water, crossing to Beginish by 9 am, early for us. We passed the seals and paddled along the outer coast of Great Blasket, exploring caves and arches along the way. After several hours, we crossed from Great Blasket to Inishbro, where the caves, arches, and cliffs became even more spectacular. One cave looked like a cathedral. The tall cliffs, the swell of the ocean, and the birds—the experience was overwhelming at times, it was that beautiful.
We crossed from Inishbro to Inishvickillane across a channel where the current, oddly, consistently runs in a westerly direction. A small landing with an iron ladder served a lunch spot while a baby seal provided our lunchtime entertainment. Fortunately, the wind and tide remained favorable for the hour-long crossing to Tearaght.
We saw puffins near Inishbro, but nothing could have prepared us for the avian show on our crossing to Tearaght. Puffins and gannets flew overhead and dove around us. It reminded me of being in a butterfly garden—but with puffins. What could I do but laugh?
Reaching Tearaght felt like a real accomplishment, although we still had to get back though. The island rises sharply from the sea—there were no easy natural landing spots. Someone had carved steps into the rock face, but those steps ended well above the water level. The lighthouse on the island is the westernmost building in Europe and sits 84 meters high. Tearaght also boasts the steepest railway in Europe. I’m still not sure why it was built in the first place. Our return paddle was long as we passed Inishbro and Great Blasket, but we certainly earned our Guinness that day.
The following morning, our final day in Dingle, we realized our luck had changed. Clear skies gave way to wind and clouds, more characteristic of Ireland’s weather. We had been remarkably lucky. Dale warned us that Dingle’s steep cliffs make it a committed paddle—heavy weather could have kept us off the water for several days. Our group has trained in rough water skills, navigation, and tides, so we could play in the swell, rocks, and clapotis. But we also know our limits.
So, on our last day, we played around the rocks, caves, and arches near the entrance to Dingle Harbor. We rode swells through arches and explored deep caves. Paddling back to the harbor, a fierce headwind reminded us how lucky we had been.
I loved the paddling, but there was so much more—traditional music in pubs, Guinness, and walking along cliffs. What made the trip great, though, was the people, the smiles, and the laughter. Some old friends, some new. That’s why I’m already planning my return.