Whiskey, Guinness, and Rocks
March 23-29, 2016
There's a myth that a pint of Guinness in Ireland just tastes better than anywhere else in the world. Both of us already love Guinness, so we were excited to see if this myth was actually a reality. And though Kirb was also excited to see all the other things the country had to offer, he had been wanting and waiting to drink a real Irish Guinness for his entire adult life. Of course, Guinness isn't the only thing that Ireland has going for it. We had also heard tales of the beautiful rocks and water that this country has to offer: a place that truly deserved an epic road trip. After picking up our rental car at the airport and promptly parking it in a garage as soon as we got into Dublin, we checked into our hostel and made our way to the closest pub – the legendarily touristy Temple Bar. The locals don't drink here, but they do serve pints of that smooth, life-affirming brown booze.
Was it everything the hype had made it up to be? Hard to say. The only thing we were sure of was that we had no intention of drinking more than one beer in the Temple Bar, so we made our way next to Mulligan's, a blue-collar bar where actual Dubliners drink. We ordered another pint there, and this time it was PERFECTION in a glass. It turns out there is a difference between a regular Guinness and a perfectly poured one. After that round we decided to branch out and try some new beers we can't get in Berlin, like Beamish, Guinness' dark-chocolatey brother from another mother. The bartender recommended we go to the Palace Bar at some point in the evening for whiskey, so we made a note of it.
Now in a wonderful mood, we decided to splurge on dinner and go to the Chop House, a steak and seafood gastropub that supposedly served Michelin-quality food for reasonable rates. The 35 Day Irish Dry-Aged Prime Limousin 10oz Ribeye Kirb got ranked among the best steaks he'd ever eaten, and at €28 it was roughly half the price of the other steaks he could compare it to. Mazz's dish of lightly fried fish with vegetable risotto and flavor foam was also exceptional. Feeling ecstatic about our life choices, we had an after-dinner pint at the pub across the street and then began to walk our way back across town to the Palace Bar for some whiskey.
Known as a haven for the Irish literary scene, the Palace Bar proudly offers over 190 Irish whiskeys. We foolishly started with Jameson – which we drink in the states as a middle of the road whiskey option – before being berated by a sardonic bartender for essentially drinking the bar's swill. Following his recommendations, we moved on to some excellent Palace Bar 14 year single malt and Bushmill's 18 year. After striking up a rapport with him, he offered us a free glass of Midleton Barry Crockett, which goes for about €20 a shot. Apparently somebody asked for something top shelf earlier and this is what he got. He retuned it after taking one sip and asked for something else. The bartender then served him their well, Tullamore Dew, and he loved it. We were happy to drink that idiot's unwanted glass of one of the nicest whiskeys in the shop.
That night was a truly awful hostel experience. We were in a 6-person dorm, and someone's feet had polluted the atmosphere in there before we even arrived. As a result, we had to keep the window wide open all night. Though the location of the Barnacles Hostel was great if you wanted to be by the happening bar area, if you are trying to sleep with the window open you are in the wrong neighborhood. The combination of stink, screaming drunks, and street sweepers outside combined with people coming and going all night in the room made sleep nearly impossible. After a free breakfast we would have paid not to eat, we made our way south out of Dublin. The first stop was Glendalough, home of "Ireland's most impressive monastic settlement." We spent the afternoon wandering through ruins and graveyards dating back as far as the 10th century before following the "Green Trail" that looped between the upper and lower lakes. This beautiful but brief glimpse made us wish we had more time to explore the rest of the trails in the area.
We continued south, eventually stopping in Kilkenny for lunch and to have a look at the castle situated in the middle of town. Here we spotted a sign advertising dinner for Good Friday with some trademark Irish wit. Though Good Friday is the one day of the year in which the sale of alcohol is illegal (more booze is sold the Thursday prior than on any other day of the year, including New Year's Eve), you can see from the menu of Beer and Cheese Soup, Tequila Prawns, and Bananas Foster how the Irish feel about being told not to sell or consume alcohol, if only for a single day.
The sun was setting perfectly as we made it into Kinsale, and a terrible Google maps reroute ended up fortuitously taking us up a small road to an overlook with an idyllic view. After a light dinner and an encounter with an adorable black lab who owned a whole parking lot, we made our way to a pub where everyone was actively cheering at the darts match on TV. We struck up a conversation with a guy who surprisingly knew more about Portland's Major League Soccer team than Mazz does, and she's from there. He informed Kirb that though his name is not entirely common in Ireland, Kirbs come from Limerick.
Taking off early the next morning, we grabbed some unexpectedly good breakfast sandwiches form a gas station and headed west to the Ring of Kerry on the Wild Atlantic Way. Our first stop was Staigue Fort, a massive, round pile of rocks dating back sometime around 500 B.C. From there we followed the ocean road north, stopping to look at a destroyed women's hospital from the early 1900s with IRA ties that no one will demolish for fear of "kicking up a beehive." The narrow and winding road along Wild Atlantic Way is punctuated regularly with postcard views, and we found ourselves stopping to take pictures and gaze excitedly every 10 minutes or so.
We had heard that the drive along the mostly narrow lane Ring of Kerry could end up being difficult if you get caught up with oncoming tour busses, which tends to happen in the afternoon. We were worried that we had gotten a bit too late of a start on the Ring and would have to endure these obstacles, but fortunately we made it to our turnoff for the Skellig Ring right as we saw our first tour bus and didn't have to deal with any of that stress. In the town of Ballinskelligs we veered off the main road to a beach turnout and wandered out on foot to the ruins of a waterfront fort. Kirb loves playing in forts.
A little further along the Skellig Ring we stopped at the Skelligs Chocolate Factory where we enjoyed a ridiculous amount of free chocolate samples and ended up taking some treats with us for the road, Shortly thereafter we started seeing signs for the "best view in County Kerry," though you had pay €4 to get to the viewpoint. Our good friend Rick Steves had vouched for the excellence of the view, so we decided it was worth it to go and check it out. The wind in this area was unreal - everything was blowing sideways and it was hard to even open the car door. The views were indeed exceptional, though we were afraid the entire time that a gust was going to snatch the camera out of our hands and carry it down to the bottom of the massive cliffs. This inevitably resulted in a series of amazing backgrounds with large fingers and thumbs covering part of the lens in an attempt to not lose our favorite toy.
We continued around the Ring of Kerry and up the coast to the town of Dingle, where we would be staying the night. Dingle is fabled for their traditional live Irish pub music, but being Good Friday, we were unable to enjoy any of it that evening as all of the pubs were closed. Instead we prepared our own dinner at the unexpectedly excellent Rainbow Hostel just outside of town and shared our whiskey and ciders with some nice Belgian guys who had made the unfortunate decision to camp in the backyard that night. The howling winds and torrential rain quickly soaked all of their gear and they were forced to move inside and upgrade to a proper room.
The rain hadn't let up the next morning when we started the Ring of Dingle, clouding the otherwise exceptional oceanside views. The Dingle peninsula had been described to us as a must-see in Ireland, and the sights were certainly amazing, but the wet and dreary day put a bit of a damper on the experience. We did manage to see beautiful views, beaches, and the house where Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman lived while filming Far and Away. There were also plenty more rock forts and structures, including the Gallarus Oratory, a stone church built by medieval monks 1,300 years ago. The sun did eventually break now and again to give us a peak at the Skellig islands hiding off the coast, as well as allowing us to spot our first Irish rainbow.
Once we'd completed the Dingle Ring, we continued along the Wild Atlantic Way and took a short ferry from Tarbert to Killimer to save some driving time and made our way north to the iconic Cliffs of Moher. Inarguably, the most important historical event to transpire here was when Harry and Dumbledore destroyed Voldemort's locket deep inside the cave. The wind was so strong it was blowing a waterfall upside down, creating a massive wind tunnel and spraying everyone who walked along a certain section of the path. This was Mazz's favorite part of the trip, besides the whiskey. Before long the sun broke through the clouds and gave us some great views of the cliffs.
From Moher we drove to the Burren, a giant limestone plateau. The highlight here is Pounabrone Dolmen, a portal tomb that's been standing for 5,000 years.
Galway is the biggest town on the west coast of Ireland, and apparently every hostel in town was completely booked out for the holiday weekend. We had made reservations at a place called Snoozles, mostly because it had the dumbest name and we enjoyed saying it in an annoying tone of voice. "Oh...I'm staying at Snoozles." This hostel stay would mark the last time we would ever make the mistake of following the social advice of the 22-year-old working the front desk. Saturday night was popping in Galway, and every bar and club in the part of town we were directed to had people crowded out the front door. Multiple failed attempts at nightlife later, we finally ended up at a traditional pub near our hostel that had great live music and some hilarious gents who instantly struck up conversation with us and made us feel at home. This bar was full of dads, and it was tight. 22-year-olds don't know what's good for anyone.
After a lazy morning making fun of (and with) the 20-year-old girl from Chicago in our room who drunkenly slept in a bunch of chocolate, we made our way about an hour outside of Galway to the ferry station that would take us to the Aran Islands. The largest island of the three, Inishmore, is only 9 miles by 2 miles in size, with a harsh landscape of windswept fields and an impossible number of hand-built rock walls everywhere you look. Having only a few hours to spend on the island, we hired a local guide to drive us around in his minivan and show us the sights. The highlight of the island was Dun Aonghasa, a 2,000-year-old iron age fort sitting on the edge of a 200-foot cliff overlooking the Atlantic. The weather continuously switched from intense sideways winds and rain to clear blue skies in a matter of moments.
Driving around the south end of Ireland from Dublin to Galway took several days due to the winding narrow roads, but cutting directly across the middle of the island on a proper highway to get back to Dublin only took a few hours. Not far from Dublin is Trim, home to the biggest Norman castle in Ireland. On our delightful tour of the castle we learned that it was used for 4 of the different castles in the move Braveheart, and that many of the locals in town had been extras in the battle scenes. Our guide informed the 7-year-olds on the tour that at the time the castle was built they would have been sent to work full time. The 12-year-olds would be getting married. Anyone over 25 would probably be dead. She was a hoot!
Back in Dublin we parked on the street and checked into our hostel, only to return to the car to find that it had a flat tire. It was already 6pm on a national holiday, and we had to be at the airport the next morning by 6am. Great timing! After over 30 minutes of failed calls trying to reach the rental company, someone finally answered and informed us there was some foam and a pump in the trunk that should fix the hole long enough for us to get back to the airport. It worked, though obviously the rental company charged us for a new tire and the cost of the foam because car rental companies are assholes.
After that unfortunate ordeal, the only thing that could cheer us up was a final glorious night of Irish whiskey and beer. We made our way back to Mulligan's to savor the last of the precious real Guinness we would drink for the foreseeable future, and see if they carried any of the fine Irish whiskeys we had been advised to taste: Yellow Spot, Green Spot, Writer's Tears, and Connemara. Unsurprisingly, Mulligan’s had all of them, and we learned that Yellow Spot is unquestionably the best whiskey we have ever tasted. Having to wake up at an ungodly hour to get to the airport, we begrudgingly stopped drinking at a reasonable hour and headed back to our hostel.
It's unclear if either of us actually got any sleep that evening. There was a guy in our room who can only accurately be described as a "noise terrorist." He was asleep when we showed up around 5pm and still asleep before we went out to the pubs a few hours later. From 11pm when we got back to the room until 4am, he emitted such an awful, deafening, unrelenting snoring sound that about a quarter of the 16-bunk room packed up and left in the middle of the night, including us. It was clearly better to sit awake in the airport before dawn than listen to the sound this man was making. If we would have gotten 3 more flat tires on the way to the airport, we still would have thought, "At least we're not listening to that guy anymore." We like to travel cheap, and we generally don't have problems staying in hostels, but this may have been the last time we pay less to deal with a sound like that.