It’s December, friends. Can you believe it? The last month of our exhilarating year of adventure is here before I’m ready for it. There’s frost on the leaves on the steps outside and festive lights twinkle throughout our little corner of the world. Our November trip has come and gone, our farthest reaching destination this year, and we’re eleven down, one to go. It’s all gone by so fast. But I’m getting ahead of myself. The reminiscing on it all will come later this month or perhaps early next year. For now, there are green hills, rugged mountains, valley vistas, coastal cliff views, and pints of black stuff to discuss.

Howth

We landed at Dublin airport having each managed about two hours of sleep on our six hour red eye from Newark. We breezed through immigration and were soon off to pick up our little rental car to hit the Irish roads. The first destination in our sights was the seaside village of Howth, just outside of Dublin city. Mike was quick to reacquaint himself with the right side of the car/left side of the road situation and we were navigating our first of many roundabouts and tight left-turns in no time.

The colorful fishing village of Howth, nestled along the coast of the Irish Sea, is an idyllic, manageable daytrip from bustling Dublin city. Accessible by car or a short train ride from Dublin via DART service, this makes for a great destination for those traveling to the Dublin area with limited time who would like to get a broader sense of what this beautiful country has to offer outside the limits of its largest city. For us, Howth was reminiscent of some of the towns we have visited in the west of Ireland without the 2.5+ hour drive to get there from Dublin.

With limited daylight (and sleep), we set our sights on doing some of the Howth Cliff Path Loop to take in the stunning views of the sea and the cliffs along the coastline. On a sunny, Saturday afternoon, it was easy to follow the like-minded crowd of scenery-seekers to the start of the trail and after a bit of a climb, we were perched upon the side of the cliffs on a dirt trail that wound past the gorse, the heather, and the green high above the crashing waves.

About forty-five minutes into our hike, we decided to turn around, wanting to have time for a quick lunch before hitting the road to our next stop, in hopes we could reach it before dark. Racing the daylight was certainly a challenge on this trip versus our previous summertime trips to Ireland. We ordered some takeaway fish and chips from Beshoff Bros to share and enjoyed them as the clouds began to roll in over the harbor.

Kilkenny

Our drive from Howth to Kilkenny felt long and arduous as we raced our waning energy, though in actuality it took less than two hours from Howth harbor to the door of our hotel.

Driving through the Kilkenny town center was a welcome reprieve for our heavy eyelids and we wound our way through the town to our lodging for the next two nights, Pembroke Hotel Kilkenny. We checked in and parked in the designated lot a few blocks away then took in the view of Kilkenny Castle and the Kilkenny Arts building from our room’s large window for the briefest of moments before settling in for a must-needed, strategic nap to try to “get on Ireland time”. The grogginess we felt after our ninety minute nap was a familiar sensation that we have experienced on every one of our Ireland trips. It’s just a necessary evil, we have learned, to help make the most of a short vacation. We begrudgingly willed ourselves to get out of bed and head out for a bite to eat and a pint.

Sullivan’s Taproom fit the bill for what I was feeling to escape the damp chill of November in Ireland. Inside, the taproom was warm and decorated for Christmas. Every table inside, but one, was taken so we claimed that last as ours, shrugged out of our jackets, and settled in. The place was packed with fans who were zoned in on a rugby match between Ireland and South Africa. We sat on the outskirts of it all near the kitchen pass-through and perused the menu. We ordered a margherita pizza to share and I opted for a red ale on rotation, while Mike went for a pale ale. The atmosphere was festive and excited and it was a great way to wake up a bit from our jet-lagged stupor.

Our next stop for the night was The Dylan Whiskey Bar for some after-dinner cocktails. The place was pretty empty when we arrived on that Saturday evening, but filled out over the couple of hours that we spent there. I ordered a Jameson Triple-Triple old fashioned to start, followed by my first true pint of the trip and the memories flooded back of how Guinness just tastes better in Ireland. We decided it’s both a texture thing and a color thing. The foam is creamier and smoother than back home and when the light hits it just right, rubies glimmer at the bottom of the glass.

Cahir

We checked the forecast Sunday morning before heading to our first stop for the day, a medieval town about an hour west of Kilkenny called Cahir. Discouraged by the rain that had accompanied much of our drive, despite one rainbow sighting, we pulled into the public lot next to Cahir Castle and checked the forecast again to see if the rain would stop soon. According to Google Weather, it wasn’t supposed to rain in Kilkenny all day (but it had already rained on us that morning), it wasn’t supposed to rain in Cashel (though it would be raining when we got there later), and it was certainly raining in Cahir. We changed into our waterproof hiking boots, zipped up our waterproof jackets, and grabbed our umbrellas because in Ireland, there is no bad weather, only bad clothes.

Cahir Castle did not offer the shelter from the rain and chill that I, for no logic-based reason, imagined it would. Still, umbrellas up, we wandered the walled, green grounds and stone courtyards and ducked into the medieval banquet hall which was heated to 7°C (44.7°F). We climbed stairways that wound up to sparse, wooden floors with whitewashed stone walls and skimmed information boards on the Easter Rising and the history of Medieval women’s dress and customs, stealing long glances through the deep, paned windows at the colorful street outside.

We did a short exploration of the town on foot due to the wet conditions before driving through the streets and on to our next stop, Cashel, in hopes of escaping the rain.

Cashel

“It’s not raining in Cashel,” I said, remembering the lack of raindrops forecast on Google Weather for this next little medieval town of the day.

“It’s not raining in Cashel,” echoed Mike.

But, of course, it was.

We climbed from the parking lot up the hill to the Rock of Cashel historic site, our umbrellas tested by strong winds and rain. We purchased our tickets and hurried inside the impressive cathedral ruins to escape the wind, though it was quite the wind tunnel inside anyway. There were people huddled close to the stone walls, trying to evade the wind’s reach as they waited for their tour to begin. I couldn’t help but laugh as I heard a teenaged, American boy voice his opinion.

“Why are we DOING this?!” he shouted against the wind.

Valid question, I thought, ready to leave as well. We hastily wandered the ruins, pausing at the gravesites only briefly and taking in as much of the sprawling view of the countryside from the top of the hill as we could in only a few moments. It would have been a beautiful spot to linger and really take in the view of the rolling hills and farms on a warm, sunny day, but a warm, sunny day, it was not, my friends. It was November in Ireland.

Mike proposed we find somewhere to get out of the cold for a while and we settled on a place for lunch on the recommendation of a barkeep who informed us the kitchen was closed at our first choice restaurant. The barkeep guided us to Bailey’s Hotel Cellar Bar & Restaurant and it ended up being a very welcome, cozy suggestion.

As we enjoyed pints of Smithwick’s and waited for our lunch to arrive, we scrolled through my pictures from our visit to the Rock of Cashel. Mike said, “Funny. No one would look at these and think there was actually a hurricane up there.”

Kilkenny (cont’d)

We reached Kilkenny again before dark and took some time to warm up, rest, and take in the view of Kilkenny Castle from our room before heading back out to dinner. We decided on Matt The Millers Bar & Restaurant for some traditional Irish fare and music. I ordered Guinness beef stew with brown bread and Mike opted for the seafood chowder with brown bread and both were excellent, hearty, and blissfully warm. We sipped our pints of Guinness and listened as the live performers sang familiar songs like Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl and The Cranberries’ Zombie amongst a wider selection of more traditional Irish songs. We ended our evening back at The Dylan Whiskey Bar, much quieter on a cold Sunday night than on the previous night. Still, the whiskey was warm and smooth and the surrounds cozy and pleasant. This spot was worth two visits.

The Wicklow Mountains

In researching for this trip, one place in particular kept coming up as a suggestion for places to visit near Dublin. Glendalough. (Pronounced Glenda-luck) In all my planning for Glendalough though between what trail to hike, where to park, and where to get lunch afterwards, there was one thing I hadn’t planned on for our visit and that was me behind the wheel of our little rental car from Kilkenny to the Upper Lake parking lot.

This was my first time driving on the “wrong” side of the car and the “wrong” side of the road and boy oh boy did it feel a little harrowing at times. Irish country roads are teeny tiny- think a one lane road in the US or better yet, two bike lanes smushed together and hey presto! you have yourself an Irish country road.

I’ve learned that driving in Ireland, sometimes you just have to throw your side-view mirror into the bushes or chance the solidity of the “soft shoulder” (just grass and mud), if you’re so lucky to have a shoulder available at all, that is. Irish drivers have a level of confidence or recklessness that I can only aspire to. I wasn’t as sheepish as the painted, white, fluffballs grazing in the pastures and hills along the sides of our route, but let’s just say I was happy to arrive at the Glendalough car park only having run over one curb with my front left tire.

We changed into our hiking boots and hit the trail, opting for The Spinc Walk Blue Route as an out an back to the summit viewpoint rather than as a loop. The trail guided us past the Lower Lake and through a pretty wood of evergreens. This wasn’t the Ireland we had seen before on our previous trips. This was wild and towering and rugged. We loved it. We followed the path up the mountain and out of the trees, through heather and grass and dirt and mud, soaking nature into the soles of our boots to mingle there with that from our previous adventures this year.

After not too long, we were rewarded with views of the Upper Lake and the vista looking further below and beyond past the valley. This place was a beauty, a highlight that made me question why people say to see the true Ireland you need to go to the west. I agree you should definitely go to the west if you’ve only time for one trip to Ireland in your lifetime, but I am going to throw the suggestion out there to make this place a priority as well.

For lunch, we went to a beautiful, cozy restaurant in the village of Laragh called Wicklow Heather Restaurant. The whole place was twinkling with the soft white glow of fairy lights. There was antique, copper crockery suspended from beams and hooks in the ceiling. Vintage portraits and artwork climbed the walls and looked down upon it all from the wooden eaves, and gothic paned windows looked out on the road. Mike ordered a Guinness and an open faced slow roasted ham and smoked applewood cheese sandwich while I went for potato, cauliflower, and coconut curry and a cup of tea.

We made our way towards Dublin after our meal, racing the daylight once again as we marveled at the breathtaking, wild scenery that surrounded us on our drive through the mountain pass called Sally Gap. If you are visiting Ireland as a tourist, I recommend doing this drive with a tour company rather than driving it yourself, as the road through the mountains is very isolated and cell phone service is minimal. We made a stop at Lough Tay, also known as Guinness Lake before heading back towards Dublin, both of us a little anxious for views of civilization.

Dublin

Inching along the narrow, Dublin city streets that evening was enough driving in Dublin for us, at least until we needed to head to the airport a couple days later, and once we parked our car in the garage around the corner from our hotel, we decided we’d try out the DART service if we planned to go outside the city the next day. Our check-in at the Drury Court Hotel was warm and welcoming. The people working at the front desk were friendly and efficient. They asked had we been to Dublin previously and what our plans were for our time in the city.

“Yes!” we said with the smiles that accompany the memories of previous vacations to Ireland, “I think we’ll try The Winding Stair for dinner and maybe head to Dalkey tomorrow.”

“That’s lovely,” said the front desk agent with a smile.

The agent reminded us that European hotels do not customarily have top sheets or washcloths, but that there was a shelf stocked with washcloths in the lobby, if needed. Our experience with the Drury Court Hotel was very pleasant and helpful and the location was central to lots of sights, pubs, and attractions. I would recommend this hotel to friends or family looking to visit Dublin.

For dinner, we bundled up and headed out into the cold, damp night, weaving our way through The Temple Bar District towards the River Liffey. We climbed the winding steps for which The Winding Stair restaurant is named (along with inspiration from a poem by W.B. Yeats) and hoped there would be space for us as we did not have a reservation. Lucky for us, there were a few tables available and we were seated immediately. The atmosphere of the restaurant was cozy with tall ceilings and low lighting and the warm scents of spices and sauces coming from the open kitchen were mouthwatering. I ordered a pan-seared trout with parsnip puree, leeks, and capers and savored every bite, choosing to accompany my meal with a glass of red wine to wash it all down with.

After dinner, we walked to The Long Hall, one of Dublin’s oldest pubs which happened to also be conveniently situated around the corner from our hotel. The pub had a cozy, Victorian charm to it with red carpeting, red ceilings, red furnishings, dark wood architectural accents, and elegant light fixtures. I also read somewhere that The Long Hall is Bruce Springsteen’s favorite pub in Dublin and Mike and I enjoyed following in a fellow New Jerseyan’s footsteps by visiting. We sat at the end of the long bar and sipped our pints of Guinness slowly while reminiscing on the day’s activities and drives.

Dun Laoghaire & Dalkey

The next morning, we walked to the Tara Street DART station to catch a train to Dun Laoghaire (pronounced Dun Leary) and then on to Dalkey from there. The trains were frequent and affordable at €2.60 for a one way for each of us. If you are going to be staying in the area for longer, you may want to invest in a LEAP card to save further on the train fare.

Dun Laoghaire is a bustling harbor town about twenty minutes outside of Dublin by train. We walked the length of the East Pier, taking in views of the Irish Sea and the peninsula of Howth in the distance, remembering our visit there a few days prior. The walk was pleasant and we were happy to hear all the Irish accents around us as locals walked the pier for recreation and leisure.

One thing about Dublin city that you might not expect as a tourist is that you might hear a lot more foreign languages than English or English spoken with the pleasant Irish accents as it is such a multicultural place with visitors and locals from all over the world. This will be particularly so, if you are staying in the touristy areas in the center of the city. If you’d like to experience more local dialects and accents or even the Irish language, take the train outside of Dublin to some of the other coastal towns or drive to some of the other counties in this beautiful country. If you head to any of the country’s Gaeltacht areas, such as counties Donegal, Mayo, Galway, Kerry, Cork, Waterford, or Meath, you will probably also catch some locals speaking in Irish.

We hopped back on the DART for just a few stops and got off in Dalkey. This town was on my must-see list of places for this trip as it was home to one of my favorite authors and role models, Maeve Binchy. Going to the town where Maeve lived might not be everyone’s idea of a good time, but it was important to me. I would not be the reader or the writer that I am today without Maeve Binchy and her talent for story-telling and conveying her understanding of people as flawed, dynamic beings in need of community and purpose. When I read Maeve Binchy, I never fail to find a character with whom I can relate and I am grateful to her for that sense of representation, alone. She has helped me to feel ok at times when I didn’t feel so ok and she has put a smile on my face with her words more times than I can count. It felt good to be standing where she might have stood once, or perhaps even many times, before.

We headed into Finnegan’s in search of lunch, but the place was full and we were told it might be a while so we crossed the street to have a look around The Gutter Bookshop. I perused the Maeve Binchy titles on the shelves and picked out one I hadn’t read before, A Week in Winter, and purchased it as a souvenir. (I am most of the way through it and can recommend.) I was also interested to see that The Gutter Bookshop had a couple of shelves in their children’s section designated to Irish translations of children’s books to facilitate children’s learning the language from a young age.

Back to Finnegan’s it was for us after our little shopping excursion and it was only a little while before two seats opened up at the bar and we were seated. Mike ordered fish and chips and a Wicklow Wolf pale ale and I ordered cottage pie and a Guinness. Everything was delicious and it was pleasant to listen to the pretty Irish accents chatting all around us, the breathy, soft T punctuating the ends of sentences in that questioning Irish way, “Is it?”

Dublin (cont’d)

From our previous trip to Dublin, ten years ago, I remembered one of my favorite activities had been walking around the Trinity College campus. We headed into Trinity’s campus and were surprised to see that a winter convocation ceremony must have just let out as many graduates were dressed in robes and mortarboard caps, taking photos with friends and family. We did a quick loop around the central square of the campus to take in the architecture and headed on towards our next stop, Ireland’s oldest pub.

The Brazen Head, est. 1198, was a bit of a walk from Trinity, but once we got inside, it was pleasant, cozy, and very festively decorated. We snagged two seats at the bar and Mike ordered a Guinness and turned to me.

“Can I do a Half & Half?” I said to the bartender.

“No,” he said.

“A Guinness with Harp?” I said. Maybe I should really just stop trying to order this anywhere.

“No,” he said again, “I’ll tell you why. Our Guinness is too good here. It doesn’t settle. Here, I’ll show you.”

He poured a little Harp in a glass and topped it with Guinness and the whole thing was just a tan, foamy mess. No, indeed then, I thought.

“Weird,” I said, “Just a Guinness, then.”

As we enjoyed our pints, a couple came in and ordered at the bar.

“We’re in Dublin for one hour,” said the man, “We asked our driver where to go if we only have one hour in Dublin and he said here.”

In my memory, they asked the bartender for “the most Irish beer”.

The bartender said, “My selection?”

With a nod from the customer, he poured, to my surprise, not from the Guinness tap, but from the Brazen Head Red Ale tap. The man seemed happy enough.

After some time spent at our hotel to rest and warm up a bit, we bundled back up and walked south along Camden Street into the Portobello neighborhood. I read that Portobello has a great food scene and looked up an Indian restaurant there called Pickle that we were eager to try. We didn’t have a reservation for Pickle, but were seated immediately. I have read that reservations are recommended for this restaurant and it did fill out a bit while we were there, so just plan ahead if you ever decide to visit, yourself.

This dining experience was the culinary highlight of our trip. Granted, we love Indian food, but still, the flavors were out of this world and the ingredients were fresh and locally sourced. The portions were big and the food was hearty and delicious. If you’re ever in Dublin and you like spicy food, just do your tastebuds a favor and go.

To finish up our trip, we decided to visit a couple more pubs. Our first pub stop of the night was The Landmark where there was a very talented musician performing live music. We had only intended to get one pint there, but stayed a little longer since the performer was so good and the place was so comfortable and cozy.

For the last stop of the night, we walked to The Swan Bar. I could tell from outside that the place would be nice and toasty within as the windows were clouded over with steam. We shrugged out of our jackets and nestled ourselves onto two bar stools. We ordered our pints from a friendly, bearded man who could have passed for Santa Claus if he wanted to (though he actually mentioned to one of the other bartenders later on that he’d had an audition for a Santa job earlier that day and didn’t get it.) We sat and we sipped and Mike looked up pronunciation guides for words in Irish that made my head spin a little. The world outside was cold in a way that cut to the bone, but inside The Swan, the steam clouded the windows and we were sheltered and warm.

We wondered when we’d next be back to Ireland again.

If there is one thing we have learned from our trips to Ireland, it is that there is a magic to the place that continues to draw our hearts and tug upon our memories, pulling us back again and again. One visit is not enough, nor two, nor three, or four in Mike’s case. Perhaps this post will inspire some of you to read up on an Emerald Isle adventure of your own or to pick up a Maeve Binchy book and escape into the inviting pages, or to order a pint of Guinness next time you are out. If so, I hope you enjoy every minute, every page, every sip. Thanks for reading, all. Be well.