Kinsale and Skibbereen… or Not…..

 Depending on whether you travel the Wild Atlantic Way clockwise or anti clockwise, these two towns are the first or last on the coast of West Cork and after yesterday’s marathon journey I took it easy today and back tracked to make sure I’d covered this stretch.

Learning fast that when it says 55km and you think, ‘that’s fine, I can do that in about an hour and fifteen minutes’ - you can’t. 

Took over two hours. 

Just because road signs give you permission to do 100kph as your speed, forget it. Hairpin bends, signs disappearing, unmade up roads and narrow bridges, and today a lumbering convey of 4 of the dreaded camper vans. They were so close together I thought the first was towing the other three. And they didn’t go above 27 miles an hour.

Eventually I reached my first destination Skibbereen. If you look up the Famine Years in Irish history you will see how dreadful it was for the people here. 

I drove through but apart from topping up my petrol (at 186euros a gallon,)  I did not stay,  intending to spend the better part of my day at Kinsale. My AirB hostess had told me it was well worth staying the day. 

Enter the borrowed SatNav.

It had its own agenda from the start and instead of following the Wild Atlantic Way deviated off the sought route, taking me over hill and dale for what seemed like hundreds of miles. Little or no traffic which was a bonus, but really? 

Eventually I spotted a sign to the Wild Atlantic and swung on to it in spite of the sat.nav. asking me “to turn round when possible,” and managed to get to Clonakilty. 

Stopped for coffee and a wander then conscious of my time, programmed in Kinsale.

She was having none of it. 

Over hill and dale again miles out of my way and shot me well past Cork. 

‘This can’t be right’ I kept thinking. It wasn’t.

“You have reached your destination, “ she informed me in the carpark of a derelict pub near Waterford. 

What a wasted day!

My home for the night was a village on the coast called Ballycotton. 

Thank goodness worth the drive.

A village on the coast with a pretentious restaurant where starters were £31 or the hotel who suggested I pay £60 for my supper, Really?

So I found a bar, The Schooner

my first on this trip, and had a fab non- pretentious substantial and delicious meal for 19 euros including a pint of draught cider. 

A couple at the table next to me suggested lovely things to see and do in the area on my next bit of the journey. 

Excellent. Good night. Tomorrow is another day. 

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