the cycle of life


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Above: The winding Serpent River in the rocky terrain near the Gap of Dunloe, near Killarney. Below: At the Dingle Races horses, pass close to spectators. When we arrived in Dingle we were embedded in the


These thoughts were very much in my mind as we cautiously descended into the Black Valley. Brake, release a bit, then brake again, the lure of letting go versus common sense and the need to survive. The last place in Ireland to be connected to the electricity


grid was the Black Valley. It is certainly one of the remotest places in the country. The mountains in these parts are known as MacGillycuddy’s Reeks (there’s a tune in that I’m sure) and the valley leads up to the Gap of Dunloe at the other end. We spent the night in a hostel used mainly by walkers and mountain trekkers. Perhaps it was the clean air or effort of cycling or the lingering image of the rainbow but that night I dreamed of people long ago who first lived in this landscape and forged their lives in harmony with nature. Asleep in the heart of Kerry. Through the following days we


went deeper into Kerry. Not deep in the sense of geography but in the sense of place and the consciousness of the people. We had conversations with everyone we met. It’s practically impolite not to exchange words with a passer-by. Words on weather lead to comments on mood, mood to politics, and eventually and inevitably to the important business of football. A journey in Kerry is a succession of meetings, a busy schedule of opinion and cycling. There was no time, just a succession of places leading to long and happy evenings.


6 Ireland of the Welcomes | July/August 2014


psyche of the county. I found myself thinking ‘perhaps they do have the best music, literature, politics and, of course, football in Ireland’. Just as I thought the list was complete we were encouraged to join the throngs heading about a mile out of town to the annual Dingle Horse Races. These are a spectacle indeed. All the action takes place in a big field on high ground with the circuit identified by two lines of barriers and tape. Between races cars can park in the middle, not too far from the cluster of bookies and local stalls. The commentator is local and colourful as he pleads with stragglers to “get off the course so the horses can run”. Offenders are identified by their first names and there is a carnival and festive atmosphere. Racing is a national pastime in Ireland and the Dingle Races are very much a family occasion. Many of the jockeys were quite young and there are many starter races for both horse and rider. That doesn’t stop the betting and each race is subjected to heated discussion and confident predictions on the outcome. Later that evening


in town there were winners everywhere boasting the obviousness of their selections. “Sure any fool could see that the handicap would be won by Blazing Star”. The implication, not lost on me, was that even the local eejit was clever enough to figure it out. Dingle during the festival is hopping, there is music in the pubs and throngs of people are out for the night.


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