The wind was really strong throughout the night. We had gusts well over 40 mph. You could hear it start high up in the trees and gradually make its way lower to where it shook the tent like hell. Every now and then some debris would blow out of the trees and land on the tent. It sure sounded like rain, but Bunny had found a new weather website for the area that was much more accurate than google and she assured me no rain until Wednesday.
I looked under the vestibule wall and the ground looked dry. It was just debris. Regularly spaced and rhythmic. I got up (for some reason or other) and felt the tent. It was wet. The debris must have high water content. We laid in bed until 6:30 listening to the intermittent debris and heavy wind.
11 hours of sleep should be enough especially since we were only up less than 11 hours yesterday. (Never leave a paid hotel/hostel/B&B before checkout time to get maximum ROI.) Once there was a let up in the debris, I made breakfast and we packed up. On the trail by 8:30.
A new discovery was made this morning. Rice pudding is not a good breakfast to start a hard day of hiking. It was less than a mile and a half to Lord Brandon’s cafe. It wasn’t open, but the bathroom was. While I was checking everything out, a woman came out told Bunny they don’t open until 10, but she’d let us get a cup of coffee if we wanted one.
I started asking questions about the place. She told me she had been born here and had lived here all her life. I found the back story on a wall of the cafe. When the National Park was created, they had built this cafe and adjacent house where her parents took up residence. That was in 1950. They ran the cafe until 1992 when her brother took over. She ran the cafe with her brother for about 20 years until she took it over when he moved on. Now she and her husband run the place in the summers and winter in the Canary Islands.
Lord Brandon, for whom the cafe is named, inherited the land and title when his brother died. He was a bachelor minister living in a nearby Abbey. He built a small cottage and 40’ tower up here as a get away. This is the mid 19th century.
Wealthy bachelors don’t stay that way long. A beautiful young woman found the new Lord. Legend has it that he kept here locked in the tower because he knew she was way too gorgeous for a middle aged fat man with intermittent bouts of gout. The only way up the tower was a ladder inside which was easily taken down.
It’s never even been proven that she actually came up to the cottage and tower, but it was proven that she ended up having an affair with the handsome Prime Minister Viscount William Lamb. Anyone who watched Victoria on PBS will be familiar with his alleged charm. In short, the marriage didn’t last nor the wealth of Lord Brandon.
We grabbed a couple of muffins to tide us over to the next cafe. We couldn’t get anything substantial since the cafe wasn’t officially open. We knew we were fortunate to get what we got. The next cafe was in less than 3 miles, but when we got there it was closed. We have entered another wasteland. There will be another chance in 6 miles.
It’s a gradual climb out of Black Valley up to Bridia Pass. All we wanted was a clump of trees to get out of the debris which had set in once again and didn’t seem like it was going to let up at all. One small clump of trees to get out of the rain long enough to have a snack to build up our energy for the 700’ climb. This was asking a bit more than the area could provide.
Bunny and I were completely soaked. She finally even admitted that it was raining. It was to the point that we were afraid to stop because of the possibility of hypothermia setting in. Any stopping at all made us start shivering. We had no choice but push on.
Once over the pass, we at least had a cafe to give us hope. A local man from Killarney passed us heading up. When we descended the other side, he passed us again. We asked if the cafe was open. He crushed our hopes and will to live. At least we had hope for a table to sit at out of the rain to keep us going.
The cafe is also a B&B, but it looks like they’re not too fond of hikers because there were “no loitering” and “no camp stove” signs everywhere. We took our chances and loitered under the cover of a few small trees while we had a snack. We are ballsy, but not so ballsy to break out the stove for some hot tea.
I had misread the map. I wasn’t anticipating an even bigger climb after the cafe. The second climb was over 1000’ and quite steep. Theory has it that you have tremendous views at the top of the pass. From here you can see the Reeks, Lough Acoose, and the hills of Dingle. The cloud cover was too low for us to see anything other than Lough (Lake) Acoose below us.
Coming down, we had the option to road walk around the lake, or to hike a little shorter route with a few small climbs. Bunny was a bit wore out and her hip was getting inflamed. She opted for the slightly longer road walk in the hopes of going faster to make up for the difference.
When things are bad, Bunny can only imagine the bad continuing forever. It was still cold, windy, and slightly misty. Is it always going to be like this?
When she’s like this, I know we have only one option…a night inside. After a 4 mile road walk to finish the day, our feet were shot and Bunny was fatalistic. We arrived at the Climbers Inn and enquired about a room for the night.
They could accommodate us plus they have a full restaurant and pub. We dropped our packs in our room and headed down to the pub. It was loud from all the local families out celebrating Father’s Day, but it had something we weren’t expecting to actually see. There was a pulpit in the middle of the pub.
We’ve always seen, in movies, that poetry is very appreciated in Ireland. We can only assume the pulpits use on a late night of revelry. Alas, we’ll never experience such a night first hand as we can’t even stay awake until dark.
EFG