April 22 - Kerry, Ireland

"There are two things you need when you're in Ireland: Wit and a thick skin". These were the quintessential words Murt spoke from the other side of the table as we sat huddled over a guiness in the corner of a pub - long since closed to anyone who wasn't a friend of the owner - as we discussed the culture, psychology, philosophy and history of this fascinating country. And it was to be just the first of many visits to the local guiness-refilling-station and its guests, however the language barrier posed a bit of a problem. You see I thought I'd grasped the irish accent after living here for 6 months but this was the south and so I was back to square one - the only reason I knew the patrons were actually speaking english and not gaelic was that i recognised the swear words, which came out with unmistakable frequency.



I worked with Murt back in 2006 when I was an outdoor adventure instructor in the north of Ireland and returned this Easter to see County Kerry - the south east part of the country with a cultural flavour stronger than an off blue cheese and a history deeper than a chicago deep-dish pizza. All to be experienced with the company of a man who's knowledge of it all is surpassed only by the mystery the land sourrounding him retains. The original plan was to do some climbing, but given Ireland's not-so-stunning track record of good weather it was no surprise that this was suppressed to driving all over the region (past some rather nice climbing crags) and learning a bit about the half of the country I never had the honour of experiencing three years ago. And one thing I love about Ireland is its cliffs, even when Im not climbing them. For they have perfected the art of self promotion - always wrapped in an impenetrable blanket of cloud and fog that exhibits the same emotion of the cliffs they clothe.

Then the nature of the nature is transcribed directly into the castles, towers, and other structures which litter the landscape, all embodying a mysterious and ancient impression that grows more powerful as time continues. A perfect example can be seen in the church in the centre of sleepy Miltown - established in 484. Or the Viking watch tower from 1100, which stands like a proud phallus on a desolate and windswept landscape, and walking along the deserted beach the pummeling Atlantic weather is ironically comforting in a desperate kind of way. Here they say "next parish: America". Driving further, up through the Gap of Dunloe which is scattered with small lakes like pools of blood from the finger which scratched its existence into the landscape, one is rewarded with the South Pole Inn. This pub was founded by Tom Crean- the uneducated son of a poor local hill farmer who's antarctic explorations serve as one of the greatest tales of adventure ever known - after his retirement. A hero who to this day is still unknown despite his rapport with the likes of Scott and Shackleton, Tom Crean's legacy is enshrined in this humble building on the isolated Dingle Peninsula, and it's not a bad place to eat a Guinness either.


Venturing even further and there lies Inch - where the words hand-painted on a brick wall by the beach say what I have been trying to say for the last 5 years since I first ventured from home.

Dear Inch I must leave you, I have promises to keep
And many miles to go before my last sleep


More words of wisdom a pub in Kerry once yielded referred to the perpetually bleak weather of Ireland being greatest blessing. Why? because its got everything else to offer and so with it, it keeps those away who cannot see beauty through it. And luckily it will always be like this, ensuring that the true essence of this country will never be drowned out of existence.

Thanks Murt for the insights, the laughs, and the conversation.
Sláinte.



For a sweet adventure story-come history lesson, head here: http://website.lineone.net/~polar.publishing/tomcreanunsunghero.htm and for photos:

Ireland