Blog 19: There’s a Silver Lining in Every Cloud

Views along the bike trek

The hike to Conor's Pass

 Blog 19: There’s a Silver Lining in Every Cloud

            My thighs felt like Jell-o as I tried to bike myself up the steepest hill yet on our 35km trek along the Dingle Peninsula. Maybe all that bread and olive oil I had gorged on in Spain was catching up to me. A sense of accomplishment passed through me when I finally made it to the top. But the elation quickly vanished. It was then that I realized that my bike had been in a high gear the WHOLE time (face palm moment). Of course my friend found this hilarious because we were only 5kms to the end of our journey. Maybe attempting a 35 km bike trek after a year of not stepping on a bike wasn’t the brightest idea.

Blasket Islands

            After exploring Dublin, I made my way to the wild, western coast of Ireland. Dingle, An Daingean in Irish, is a small town in County Kerry. Unfortunately this little town has been discovered by the tourist industry, but you can still find pockets of charm in the town despite the high number of foreigners. The hostel that I was staying in, The Hideout Hostel, was exactly what I had been hoping for. It was quaint, clean and felt more like a home than a hostel. But the best part about it was the people I met at the hostel. Looking back now, I was very lucky to have found such good company. One awesome person I met was an Austrian guy at my hostel who was also traveling alone. We ended up being travel buddies for the next few days. Our first adventure was a 35km bike trek along the Slea Head Drive (80km by car). It took us nine hours (only 3-4 hrs biking) but it was worth the extra effort. The Dingle Peninsula holds a rough, unpolished beauty. There were craggily cliffs, deep green fields dotted with grazing sheep, and the Blasket Islands spread out before you. Along the way we stopped at ancient stone houses called beehive huts, the Gallarus Oratory (a 1300 year old Christian church), and the Great Blasket Visitor Centre . Of the three of these, only the Great Blasket Visitor Centre was worth the entrance fee. The story of Blasket Islands is actually pretty remarkable. People lived on these windswept islands despite the extremely harsh living conditions. It was one of the few places in Ireland where Gaelic was still spoken and written. Although Irish students are required to spend several years in school learning Gaelic, many people never become fluent speakers. It sadly reminds me of the Hawaiian language because Gaelic was discouraged from being taught by the British for a long time and so the language was lost for many generations. The island was evacuated in 1953 because it became too difficult to live there but the story of the Blasket Islands lives on thanks to memoirs written by islanders. You can just see the hardship the islanders faced painted on their faces (there were many pictures in the visitors center). And you can also appreciate how deeply attached they were to their islands.

Living on the edge

            Of the entire journey, here’s my favorite moment. We stopped at this beautiful lookout on the side of the road where you have the view of Blasket Islands spread right out in front of you. There was a rain cloud looming overhead so we walked down the cliff, seeking shelter under a jutted out rock (the perfect Irish umbrella). There was this feeling of remoteness and peace as we waited for it to stop drizzling. No cars were in eyesight, and there was no more than five feet of rock separating us from a shear drop into the Atlantic. The only sound was the rhythmically crashing waves and the wind whistling past. Gulls soared along the cliffs, landing near us.  It was like time stopped and the busyness of life seemed to be miles away. Sometimes in today’s hectic, materialistic world it’s easy to forget to pause and enjoy the simple gifts life gives us like the company of a newfound friend, fresh air, or a patch of sunlight on a cloudy day.

Some cool solo travelers I met

            To my surprise, I felt a wave of sadness when I left the Dingle Peninsula. I’m not usually an emotional person, but traveling alone has been like riding an emotional rollercoaster. As a first time solo traveler, you’ll probably experience what I’m describing. You hit ultimate highs where you feel like life couldn’t get much better and then suddenly you hit rock bottom. The worse part is that there’s no emotional support from a companion when you’re going through these waves of feelings. But as my Austrian friend would have probably told me at that moment, there's a silver lining in every cloud. If I hadn’t been traveling alone I might have not gotten to know all the people that I did in Dingle. And as I caught my last glimpse of Dingle on the bus, I realized I have so many great memories of Dingle that I'm taking away with me.

Dingle Harbor