A Picture Is Worth…

We have found a place where neither the photographer’s lens, nor the novelist’s pen can capture its striking, natural wonder. As quaint as Dingle town is, so majestic are its shores and landscapes. We stayed two nights here, at the Dingle Harbor Lodge, and capitalized on the few rain-free hours to tour the incredible surroundings. The two hour tour around the Dingle Peninsula, The Ring of Kerry’s smaller and less well known sister circle, was breathtaking in many ways. While I already said neither a picture nor a paragraph can do these scenes justice, maybe with the help of both, I can give you a glimpse.

Ireland’s southwestern landscape is one like I have never seen. I have seen mountains and hills and cliffs. I have seen forests and lakes and oceans. But these ingredients have never combined to form the dramatic panoramas that plaster themselves along the entire peninsula’s coast. Twisting our way through winding roads that drop off drastically just feet away from your tires, I saw lush hills of green on my right. The hills of Ireland aren’t a single constant hue, they are instead a patchwork; greens knit into deeper greens knit into browns and then, scattered like buttons across the entirety, are the greys of the boulders and the whites of grazing sheep. And yet the hills are just one piece of the quilt. Ahead of me, the black road winds through these hills and I can peer over to my left (just for quick glances, don’t worry Mom) I can see out over the ocean. This expanse seems, at first, a broad brushstroke of blue, but when we stop to take a closer look (see, safety first) we can really see. The water on this day was crashing itself aggressively against the sides of the cliffs, the clash of water and earth resulting in white surf, spouting high into the air and collapsing again on itself. The water, which seemed so clearly and vibrantly blue from afar, shows its depth upon closer look, where the blues and greens and blacks swirl together. The most stunning aspect of this vista, however, is simply the combination of the two. The hills jut out of the water, not just where they ‘belong,’ but hundreds of yards into the ocean, scattered like forgotten crumbs.

At one pull-off, I just couldn’t help it. I sprinted (ok, maybe awkwardly crawled) to the top of a nearby peak. Although it was a small peak, yes I’ll be honest here, from it I could see out over the ocean, over the hills, over the islands and over a small town nestled amidst the protective landscape. And I truly couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that beauty like this existed and that I was there to see it. It made me want to see more of it and see it everywhere, and that new sense of perspective, that renewed sense of wanting to see, may be the most beautiful thing of all.

P.S. Sorry for the delay in writing, it has been very difficult to get internet...