Traumatized and dispassionate about horses in general Rob Ryan returns triumphant to the saddle in Killarney spurred on by his wife and daughters.

And so I found myself standing in the stirrups, mud flying around me, ducking as we powered through a thicket of oaks, a strange noise in my ears. That was me, whooping.

As a bonus Rob also lists where they stayed and the best places in Killarney for riding lessons and excursions.

There’s no better way to know ‘what its like’ to visit Killarney than to read a fellow traveler’s first hand experience. In this article Stephanie describes her voyage to Inishfallon Island, her visit to Ross Castle but the best part is her hike up Mangerton Mountain (almost 900 meters) where she drinks from a crystal lake and describes a thorny encounter with a Gorse bush.

The rest of her website chronicles her 2 month trip through Limerick, Galway and Cork. Its such a good read that she can be forgiven for describing off-season in Killarney as “filled with little old Irish people, many speaking Gaelic around the tourists to confuse us all”.

Tells the true story of a family feud (religious differences), the death and burial in Killarney of the patriarch, and ultimate reconciliation of a well-known Irish-American family.

The story is interwoven with an enjoyable parallel story of the return to Killarney (and reconciliation) of two brothers as they walk the trails and mountains of Killarney National Park:

“Mangerton, Torc and the McGillicuddy Reeks were more than names to Frank; hikes on the slopes of these mountains were the source of the richest memories of his childhood and young adulthood”

Its not typical information that you’d expect to find on a tourist website about Killarney but I think it reflects the values, attitudes and perspectives of not only rural Ireland but also of the people of Killarney and first generation Irish Americans.

Most poignent though is the description of the funeral in which you can get a rich insight into Killarney, the respect for the dead, and some of the local customs:

“As the funeral procession passed, those walking in the opposite direction turned and took “the three steps of mercy,” walking with the procession. The depths of Ireland’s Catholic legacy was never so clear as when a group of loutish youths, who might have been a street gang anywhere else, bowed their heads and turned to take the three steps with us.

As we turned up the road to Aghadoe cemetery, a breeze blew, and the blossoms fell from the trees onto the coffin. If it had been a movie, I would have laughed. It’s never that perfect! Except it was.

The cemetery, crowned with the ruins of a sixth century chapel, looks down on the lakes of Killarney. Hamhanded farmers (my father’s schoolmates) helped us carry the coffin over rough ground to the family plot. Normally, after the service, we would have all left, and “the lads” would have filled in the grave. But we wanted a last farewell, so we sent the lads on their way, and Sean, James, Frank, and I filled in the grave.”

Its also an example of excellent travel writing detailing as it does the pleasures and challenges of Killarney National Park:

“The next few days we wore our legs off, as the paths became wilder. The worst of it was the aptly named Lack Road, which our guidebook insisted had been used to drive cattle to market “within living memory.” We couldn’t see how you could drive a mountain goat herd across it now, as we picked our way down an impossible steep slope. We understood why our aunt, who had worked in Kerry Mountain Rescue, had insisted we pack so many extra clothes. Turn an ankle out here, and you’re many hours from help, with changeable weather bringing freezing rain at any moment. At one point, the trail, which had us up to our knees in mud at many a point, vanished beneath ten feet of water, only to reappear tantalizingly on the other side, with no apparent way across. Ireland is a wilder country than many people realize.

On the fourth day, we came round the crest of a hill and saw the ocean spread out below us. Thirty or forty miles back the other way, we could see the gleaming lakes of Killarney, and amazingly enough, the green below Aghadoe. We could see many of the passes we’d picked our way through the last few days, the miles that had lent soreness to our feet.”

All told there is a depth of feeling in this story and how it is told that is really quite special. This story is excerpted from an anthology of travel writing (see below) about Ireland. It will give you an understanding about the customs and culture and simultaneously act as a guide on what to do, where to go and how to go about it.

Enjoy.

Don Wiss has a detailed travelogue of his trip to Ireland (June 2006). Of particular interest to you will be the section on Kerry. Don’s travelogue is, admittedly, low on detail about Killarney but its good general purpose reading that will help inform your decisions on where to go (and not) and what to do (and not.)

There are some gems in here such as:

“I drive back on N71 through the Killarney National Park. I stop at all the laybys along the way. As I approach Killarney I pull into the Muckross House. I take a quick picture of it. More of it will have to wait until I return to Killarney for a few days and bicycle around. But while there I count 14 coaches! This is the same number that I saw the entire day on the Ring of Kerry (though half were parked, or I was parked, so I didn’t have to pass that many).”

The alternative title for Don’s trip could be ‘gluten-free Ireland’; because Don is celiac (aka coeliac) he maintains a careful diet free of wheat, so he does a great job describing his search for pubs, restaurants and B&B’s that cater (and don’t cater) to special diets.

“I stop in a family fast food restaurant and ask what they have. The younger woman says her mother is celiac. (I hear comments about celiac relatives often.) They suggest a restaurant which has no sign. Their alternative suggestion is the Black Rock. I can’t find the one with no sign, so I go to Black Rock. I ask what they have that if gluten-free and dairy-free. She comes back and says only the chicken salad. Often restaurants think we celiacs will be happy eating a salad. I ask what’s wrong with the burgers. She saus it wouldn’t have a roll. Like so what! I start asking what else is cooked on the burger’s griddle. What else is fried with the chips, etc? A fellow replaces her. Was he the manager? After several trips to the kitchen to ask the chef (and a long delay each time) we figure I can have a burger, and the fries will be cooked in their own pan and oil. I ask for medium rare. Nope. They are not allowed to serve them medium rare. The food comes. The burger is well done, but all-in-all a nice meal. I head on’ It’s now 2:00. As I leave I see that Ballybunnion has cliff walks, but not in the steady rain!”

Also, of interest is the fact that Don is an avid photographer so his piece mentions lots of places where he stopped to take photos. Don’t miss his rendition of the time he forgot to use his camera in the valley of blooming rhododendrons in Tipperary when his car got stuck in a ditch.

One thing I would add, is that some tourists go a little bit too far in their efforts to capture Ireland in photos. Most often this happens when photographing people. Don tends to cross that border from time to time:

“As I leave the B&B I see an old man along the side of the road, plus the xxx church. So I turn around. I go past the old man and pull into a driveway. It seems he saw me in the distance. He kept looking the other way.”

I know its a bit of a sensitive subject, but a bit of respect would go a long way. What do you think?