Day 7: An Daingean

We left the museum and continued our journey west along the southern coast of the Dingle Peninsula. Our destination: Slea Head. We had heard so much about the grandeur of Slea Head and knew it could not be missed.

After about an hour of driving along the most beautiful scenery we had yet seen, we arrived in Slea Head. The morning was still clear and sunny and we took the opportunity to take many pictures. At one point, a pair of Irish women stopped along the side the road on the same shoulder as us and we took pictures for each other. Our experience in Slea Head confirmed the advice we had gotten before leaving and the suggestions we had received from everyone we asked: Slea Head is truly incredible. We lingered for a long time and simply looked around the small village and the stunningly green hills that jutted into the ocean.

Kristy and I had discussed our plans for the rest of the day and decided that if we were going to stay in Galway for the night, we had better leave the northern half of the Dingle Peninsula for our return visit and head back to Dingle Town the way we had come. Additionally, Kristy desperately wanted to try to go horseback riding, which is offered year-round by some stables in Dingle. So, we headed back in search of "horse noseys" (Kristy really likes the noses of animals).

On our way back to Dingle, we stopped by a perplexing corner in the road. There was a stream that came down the mountainside and across the road itself that continued on the other side of the road towards the ocean. While we were diving towards Slea Head, we hesitated for many a moment while considering if it was a dead end or if the road actually had a stream running through it. Eventually, we concluded that it must be the road because there had been no other route possible. We drove across it and continued towards Slea Head. However, on the way back, Kristy wanted to get pictures because she was skeptical anyone would believe that the road seriously had a stream flowing across it. So, on our way back to Dingle, by now old pros at the "water roads," she got out and took pictures before we continued across the stream without a moments hesitation.

We arrived back in Dingle and found the stable. We got out of our car, walked towards the main building and were instantaneously accosted by friendly dogs. After a brief interlude of petting, the dogs followed us towards the main building. We discovered that we could not ride that day, but if we came back tomorrow, we could. We discussed it, but decided that our desire to get to Galway won out over lingering in Dingle for horseback riding.

So, Kristy and I got back into the car, carefully backed out of the stable's gravel lot and began heading towards Galway. It was only about 12:30 PM and there was plenty of daylight left for our journey.

A very interesting point about the West of Ireland: some of it is what is called An Ghaeltacht, or a Gaelic Region. This means that the road signs do not have to be in English at all, but may only be in Irish. For instance, Dingle is not actually marked anywhere as Dingle, but as An Daingean. Luckily, our road atlas also listed the municipalities in Irish, or we may still be looking for some places. We were both fascinated by the vast cultural differences the further away we got from Dublin and the Eastern parts of the Island.