Last time I wrote we had just enjoyed a sauna, a swim and a massive Irish steak from the local butcher.  We were camped by the beach and it was, without doubt, one of the most relaxing nights of our trip.

However, travel is not always a smooth ride and the very next night we had to make do with the less respectable offerings of the LIDL car park in Kinsale. Not only that, but we couldn’t find anywhere to eat that was dog friendly so we ended up tucking into a Malaysian takeaway on a bench overlooking the harbour where groups of tourists took selfies and tried vainly to out compete each other by naming the stops on their Irish tour.  I judged there to be no clear winner because they kept name dropping all the same places: namely Waterford, Dublin, Galway, Cork and the ring of Kerry.

I love name dropping myself but Tory Island would not have gotten me the reaction I would’ve desired.   Instead, I finished off my Nasi Goreng, (Which is not technically Malaysian, but then I wouldn’t have classified as Nasi Goreng either).  Ok, so I finished off my soy flavoured rice and veg and thought how lucky were to have had the chance to follow the Wild Atlantic Way.  Kinsale is the first and last point of the route, and while there were small sections we had to miss, it felt very fitting to end our journey eating a takeaway with those little wooden forks on a bench, in a cosmopolitan little town because much of our journey was spent in isolated places with little to no services.

The water was as smooth as you like and the colours of the trees and houses was something special.  On returning to the van, we dropped off to sleep with the supermarket refrigerator units blasting their steady hum.

We stopped in at Cork the next day and found a few filming locations from The Young Offenders and can add that to our list of Derry Girls and Father Ted.   Cork was quite a cool place and if we weren’t dragging around an overheated greyhound through a city that would not let her inside anything, we would have stayed longer. But I did get a Reuben from the English Market and it ranks highly on my top ever sandwich list.

We spent our last night on a little camp near Ardmore and the three of us crashed out, decided not to have one last pint in the pub and barley managed a walk along the beach.  Chloe fell asleep on the grass, Kerry dropped off in the van and I crashed out on our inflatable furniture that was profoundly comfy.  I have included a picture below because it did also turn a few heads too and people have pointed out that another colour might have been better.

I have only one fault with Ireland and unusually it was not the weather because that was bloody brilliant.  I’d class most of the roads as pure shite, every few metres there’s a dip, drop or hillock that will shatter your suspension or rip off your oil sumps.  Every time you thought you could relax the roads would crumble.  We ventured down a lot of local roads too, and in a seven-metre van you have to bring your best reversing game.  We both managed valiantly, and unlike Italy, I never backed into an overhanging balcony this time.

And so, that’s it.  We took the ferry back to the UK yesterday, spent the night in a Welsh car park and pushed through to the dog friendly territory of Devon.  We’re going the pub tonight, not because I want to but because we all can.

Kerry’s lates reels can be found here and here.