Kilkenny to Kenmare 200KM, 3 Hours
We stayed two days in Kenmare so we could spend a day exploring the Ring of Beara. It’s also the starting point for the more famous, longer, and far more touristy Ring of Kerry. Locals all recommended the Ring of Beara. No tour buses and it's a bit wilder.
Big Time Highlight — The Ring Of Beara!
Okay, time to talk about the rural roads. They’re narrow, shoulderless, and apparently double as training grounds for Formula 1 hopefuls. These goat paths are where two cars, three sheep, and a tractor all believe they have the right of way — and somehow, they’re all correct. Now add the fact that I’m driving on the left from the right seat, and you get… well, pure excitement for me and herself.
Arriving at the coastline
10 minutes later, sun!
The sea was angry that day, my friends — like an old man trying to send back soup in a deli.
A few shots from the drive. Hover to see captions
Left side. Sheep around every corner.
Beautiful villages along the route.
Ocean on the right, coal factory on the left.
Pony, pony.
Shaggy sheep, soon to be sheared in the sunshine.
Yeah, they say you can go 50MPH here. It's not one way!
Wide enough for a wheelbarrow and a prayer, but barely wide enough for our car.
This was quite a surprise! We came across a Buddhist monastery during our drive — a beautiful spot perched on one of the most scenic bluffs we found on our entire trip. It’s called Dzogchen Beara, and it’s a must-see.
Suzanne managed to get centered before we climbed back into the car — which, given the roads ahead, was probably a good idea.
Dzogchen Beara temple
Ooooohm
Looking up the coast from Dzogchen Beara
The road into Dzogchen Beara
After visiting a couple of villages, we decided to cut through Healy Pass on our way back to Kenmare — and it was incredible. Ever play Hot Wheels? Well, this was the real-life version: killer scenery viewed through the window of endless twists and turns.
The Hag of Beara.
The Hag of Beara, or Cailleach Béara, is an ancient Irish goddess of winter and transformation said to have lived on the windswept Beara Peninsula. Legend claims she turned to stone while waiting for her husband, the sea god Manannán, to return — and her weathered face can still be seen in the cliffs watching over the Atlantic.
We had a nice dinner at No. 35 — until some very loud, poorly dressed Americans showed up. I’ve always heard Europeans say they can spot Americans a mile away. It must be the Nikes, t-shirts, ugly tattoos, and silicone-injected fish lips that give us away. Oh, and take your baseball hat off at dinner, dude — it’s a Michelin-starred restaurant, not a tailgate. Arseholes.
I won’t bother telling you where we stayed — apparently, four stars mean something entirely different in Ireland. In the U.S., it means “nice.” In Kenmare, it means your room smells like old sweat socks or recently used hockey pads.
