Springtime Visit to Western Ireland

Touring Counties Clare, Galway, Kerry, and Limerick in May 2026

In May 2026, my wife, Tiger Adolf, and I spent 2 weeks in Western Ireland, visiting areas in the Counties of Clare, Galway, Kerry, and Limerick. This article summarizes highlights from our trip and acknowledges the tour guides who made the journey memorable.

We chose to fly in and out of Shannon Airport rather than Dublin. We were surprised to learn the train network didn’t cover the areas we most wanted to visit, so we rented a car to get us between lodging sites and then relied mostly on tour guides with their own vehicles for sightseeing.  We were nervous about driving on the left side of the road but we followed the advice of Youtubers to: rent a compact car with automatic transmission, rely on a co-pilot to keep the driver in the right lane and watch for traffic, and buy collision damage insurance.  We were grateful that our Toyota Corolla hybrid was equipped with a video screen with Android Auto connectivity.  The fuel shortages in the weeks before our visit led us to choose the fuel pre-pay option.  We returned the car with no damage and a low fuel warning.  You can see our Google map route https://maps.app.goo.gl/ujUtHG3PSe4SvsKW8

County Clare

After arriving at Shannon Airport, we drove 20 minutes to stay for 3 nights at the historic Old Ground Hotel in downtown Ennis, parts of which date back to the original jail built there in 1595. The first day we had lunch in the hotel’s Poet’s Corner Bar which was our introduction to an amazing seafood chowder. We walked the town, stopping for a pint at Lucas Bar and then on to Cruises Bar where we heard a wonderful traditional music trio of Blackie O’Connell on pipes with friends on Bodran and Irish lute guitar.  Dinner was at Henry’s Bistro and Wine Bar where the owner, Terry, served us a completely different seafood chowder followed by the best beef we’ve ever had – a feather blade cut of grass-fed Hereford braised in red wine – accompanied by a French Bordeaux wine. Dessert was that they call an Eton mess (think trifle).

The next morning, we joined a walking city tour of Ennis guided by Dr. Jane O’Brien of Ennis Walking Tours, then visited the 13th century Ennis Friary before heading back to Lucas Bar for their weekly circle of bagpipe players called Piping Heaven/Piping Hell that consists of grade school kids to young adults, including one visiting from the US with a special antique instrument.  The circle was led by Blackie who we had heard the previous evening in another pub. We learned he is a world-renowned piper who is also a music college professor in Limerick. Blackie’s son, Jeremiah, who’s maybe 9 years old, entertained us between tunes by demonstrating the moonwalk he had just learned.  We were told Jeremiah had just returned from an international step-dancing championship in Chicago. Next, we walked around the corner to Taylor’s Bar where we sat next to three women and were drawn into a candid conversation about politics, secondary education, housing, and healthcare.  Tiger challenged the bartender to serve us whiskey we couldn’t get in the states which led to a tasting of three variations distilled locally by JJ Corry.  

The next morning, we made the 45-minute drive to the Cliffs of Moher.  We were grateful for the clear view of the amazing coastline but the seas were choppy so we opted not to ferry over to the Aran Islands. Instead, we drove through the crowded, over-loved town of Doolin and walked into a well-regarded pub right after a bus load of tourists had been dropped off.  Abandoning that dining option, we moved next door to the Riverside Bistro for the mussels that were featured on the chalkboard out front. When the owner told us the mussels hadn’t arrived yet, we opted for a goat cheese salad and some excellent barbecue ribs. Back in Ennis, we walked through a light drizzle for our first proper Guinness pour at Brian Kelly’s Bar.  We were the only tourists there but the regulars made us feel most at home by ignoring us as we sat in the corner.  As a couple ladies drank their beer-of-choice from Coors embossed glasses (it’s the most popular light beer choice), we watched an old-timer that everyone seemed to know compliment the young bartender on the quality of the fire in the small pub’s central fireplace on this rainy afternoon.  Since there was no fire, the barkeep took the not-so-subtle hint to gather some wood and began to clumsily build one only to be relieved of his duties by another pub patron who didn’t seem to be well known to the others.  When the chilly oldtimer criticized the patron’s fire building skills, the patron left in a huff, leaving his undrunk beverage, but not before shaking hands with the oldtimer.  I’d never witnessed 2 men exchange wordless insults in such a starkly civil way that appeared to be from another time.  The barkeep resumed the firetending, apologizing sheepishly that the oldtimer that it might not be believed that he was once a Boy Scout. 

This entire scene played out with much snarkiness but no raised voices. However, from our vantage point we could see another obviously regular patron standing at the bar wordlessly egging on the seated oldtimer’s quips with raised eyebrows and hand gestures.  Believing we had observed peak pub life, we left to revisit the Taylor Bar bartender, and again had dinner at Henry’s Bistro where the restaurant owner greeted us warmly and thanked us for the nice Google review.  We were beginning to feel like Ennis regulars.

County Galway

The next morning, we checked out of the Ennis hotel and drove an hour to downtown Galway, Ireland’s 4th largest city, where we parked in a garage and climbed aboard the Galway on/off bus to see the sights.  The college-aged Galway bus driver pointed out political campaign signs around town saying “Galway mom” instead of mum and told us that it’s a game to find how many layers you need to peel to find the connection to Steve Bannon and other Americans trying to influence Irish elections. Ed mentioned his past as a Navy broadcaster and the driver said “oh, like that movie.” Ed replied, “yeah, like Good Morning Vietnam.” But the driver said, “Oh, that one too, but I meant the 2024 film Civil War where the military journalists document the fighting.” Now we have to go watch that one.   

After the bus ride, we grabbed a quick lunch and continued our drive for another hour arriving at our riverside room at the Ballynahinch Castle for a 3-night stay.  After a walk through the gardens and a cocktail on the terrace, we dined in the hotel’s Fisherman Pub.  Ed said it was the best burger of his life, while Tiger enjoyed fresh oysters and local duck confit. The room rate included breakfast each morning which started with a buffet that included yogurt, fruit compotes with rhubarb and apples, Irish ham that you carved yourself, and so much more.  Then the waiter took your order for something from the kitchen which was wholly unnecessary.  Still, the first morning Ed chose the full Irish breakfast with 4 kinds of mysterious meat products, and Tiger selected the salmon benedict which was like no other.  There was no need for lunch on the days we enjoyed our Ballynahinch breakfasts.

The morning after our arrival, following breakfast, we walked a small part of the beautiful 700-acre estate guided by Shannon who shared the castle’s ownership history.  We petted some Connemara ponies along the way. Next we enjoyed a private session in an outdoor woodland sauna located beside the lake followed by a Michelin-level dinner at the Castle’s Owenmore restaurant.

The next day, we ventured off the estate to drive the Connemara Loop via https://maps.app.goo.gl/VNecZ4erFfNfMhuw8.  Our first encounter on the narrow road was a flock of sheep that appeared to be coming toward us but were actually just crossing the road.  We marvelled at the scenery along the Killary Fjord before turning into the Killary Sheep Farm for an up-close cuddle and bottle feeding with a baby lamb and a demonstration of how the border collie dogs gather, herd, and pen the sheep, mostly through eye contact, with a just a few verbal directions from the shepherd.

Next we drove to Kylemore Abbey for a walk through the well-preserved castle and gardens.  We met a woman who wrangles the Abby’s herd of Connemara ponies. She fed two of them a snack while discussing the herd origin and management as a way to bring in revenue for the Abby’s nunnery. This inspired us to drive a little further down the road to the Connemara National Park which has a newly-opened Connemara Pony Heritage Centre.  We learned more about the ponies there, and quite a bit about bogs at the park’s visitor center.   

We stopped last in downtown Clifden for a pint with the locals at Lowry’s Music & Whiskey Bar.  After initiating a spirited discussion of nearby seafood restaurants, we followed a barmate’s whispered recommendation to McGrath’s Bar just 3 doors down for the largest serving of mussels ever and another worthy entry in what had become our search for Ireland’s finest seafood chowder.  And more beers.  We only had to drive another 15 minutes to get back to Ballynahinch where we did a whiskey tasting on the Terrace before having a nightcap in the parlor. We could get used to Castle life. 

County Kerry

After checking out of Ballynahinch, we drove 90 minutes for a private tour of Lough Gur Grange stone circle by Brian Collopy of the Heritage Center. His tour included the stone circle (which is believed to predate the more famous Stonehenge one), New (as in 15th century) Church, and a Bronze Age wedge tomb that was used for ritual gatherings. Brian did a great job filling us in on the history as well as the folklore of the region, and going beyond his usual guest narrative as he warmed to Tiger’s insightful questions. 

We drove another 90 minutes to Joy’s River Lodge in Killorglin for a 5-night stay. We chose this through airbnb as a central location for seeing both the Ring of Kerry and Dingle Peninsula that was walkable to town but located on a quiet river under a stone bridge which was once a railway but is now a walkable greenway.  Killorglin is best known as the site of the annual Puck Fair that celebrates a random, unfortunate wild goat representing the Greek diety Pan that is elevated onto a scaffold while the revelry happens in the center of town.  Fortunately for us, this event is held in August and this was May the caps and t-shirt merchandise are sold in shops and pubs year-round.  

Our first night in Killorglin we walked to Bunkers Bar and Restaurant for a proper pub dinner and a pint.  The next morning we walked back to Bunker’s for an amazing breakfast sandwich.  After breakfast, we drove to a grocery store for most of our week’s provisions followed by a visit to the Puck’s Country Store where we purchased heat-and-eat homemade dinner entrees and locally-ground coffee.  That afternoon we relaxed at a bistro table by the river before walking to dinner at Bianconi Inn followed by a spot at the weekly piano bar performance in the backroom at Falvey’s Pub.  We are told that some weeks turn into group sing-alongs, but the audience stayed sedate during our visit.  Still, the piano player did his best to encourage someone to join him in song as he played greatest hits by the Eagles, Beatles, and Broadway showtunes.  Really. Little Irish music was heard, but we had a wonderful time blending in with the locals. 

The next morning, Mary O’Sullivan of Mary G Tours picked us up at our front door for the first of two very full day tours in her car as described online at Ring of Kerry & Dingle Private Tour.  She chose the first day to feature the Ring of Kerry because of a large sporting event that would consume our Killarney area stops the next day.  The scenic route took us past places where Mary’s family once had a summer home, and we enjoyed her stories about mischief in her youth.  The scenery was remarkable–filled with stone walls for fencing and ancient towers and church ruins (often with cemeteries very much still in use) at every turn.  We loved the Skellig Cliffs even more than the Cliffs of Moher and the car ferry ride to Valentia Island was extra-special.  We appreciated how Mary shoehorned her car into places the big tour buses couldn’t go, and her stories helped us imagine how the area is changing while remaining the same. 

We had a casual lunch at the posh Waterville Golf Links, sitting with the golfers as if we belonged.  Since we don’t golf –yet our home sits just off the chipping green in Vallejo, California– it was surreal to be lunching at a course in Ireland.  But the setting was serene, the views were divine, and the people watching reinforced that pretentious golfers are the same everywhere.  An aside about iced tea: we learned it is not to be found in Ireland.  After getting quizzical looks at other restaurants, Tiger asked at the golf club if she could get a glass of iced tea.  The waitress said “of course” and when it arrived Tiger took a sip and said to me, “I should have specified unsweetened.” I took a sip of her drink and pronounced it an Arnold Palmer.  We said nothing to the waitress and when the bill arrived it clearly noted an Arnold Palmer.  Afterwards, when we asked Mary about this, she advised us to in the future order “a pot of tea and a jug of ice” so that we could make our own at the table because iced tea is simply not a thing in Ireland.  The after lunch drive included a quick-paced trip through the Gap of Dunloe, a short hike to Torc Waterfall, and a ride through the outskirts of Killarney National Park and the namesake town.

The next morning, Mary again picked us up at our doorstep to tour the Dingle Peninsula.  She promised a slightly shorter drive with more stops than the day before.  We thought she wouldn’t be able to show us scenery that was any more spectacular than the day before.  We were wrong.  Our first stop was Inch Beach and then more views of the southern coast of the Dingle Peninsula before veering inland to pass through some very colorful villages on the way to the fishing port of Dingle.  Again, she took the most circuitous, perilously narrow backroads to wondrous viewpoints while regaling us with stories of youthful summers at an Irish language immersion camp in the area.  One highlight was our stop at the ultra-modern Great Blasket Centre museum which showed us the lifestyle of the community that lived on remote islands we could see just off the Dingle coast which today are inhabited mostly by seals. Again, the cliffs were amazing, and the sea was rough and beautiful, but the wind-chill that day was reminiscent of Wyoming, and we didn’t linger on the cliff edges.      

For lunch, we had a quintessential fish and chips meal with a glass of cider at The Fish Box in downtown Dingle and then poked our noses in various shops before succumbing to obligatory purchases of locally-woven sweaters.  The older man tending the sweater shop over-explained that he was just filling in for his wife who was the owner.  Between hilarious, self-depreciating quips that centered on his interest in finding a drink, he couldn’t have been more helpful, even heading up a narrow staircase to look for a sweater… err, pullover… that Tiger liked to see if they had it in other sizes.         

After lunch. Mary navigated the legendary Slea Head Drive that is so narrow in places that in the peak summertime season a person is stationed at one end of the road to caution drivers not to attempt going in the opposite direction.  Mary maligned what she called the “Rick Steve-ers” and the “Googlers” who think they are being clever by driving the route in the opposite direction of the buses so that they won’t get stuck behind one.  Except, as Mary explained, the buses go in the “best” direction and it’s impossible to get around them in many harrowingly narrow places on the road. The cars going the wrong direction are forced to back up around sharp curves until they reach a pullout that will allow the bus to go around.  Mary validated for us why, although we rented a car, we would never consider driving ourselves along these most-touristed roadways.  Mary packed both tour days with her insights and stories.  We were grateful to have a comfortable Airbnb to retreat to each evening where we could heat up a modest dinner, drink our grocery store beverages, and reflect on our luck at discovering such an intriguing, welcoming part of the world.  

On our last day in Killorglin, we moseyed around town, shopping for souvenirs at The Crystal Cave and Bookshop which had just announced its closing after 20 years in business.  We drove just 15 minutes down the road to visit the Kerry Bog Village Museum. After so many visits to castles in France and Ireland to see how the upper class lived, it was refreshing to visit a place dedicated to showing life as it was for the simpler Irish villagers.  Plus, we got to pet a wolfhound dog and a bog pony. We ended our visit listening to the weekly guitar-and-fiddle duo at Francie Sheahan’s Bar. Everyone was celebrating a victorious hurling match that day and the conversations were lively. Sitting at the bar drinking cider, like those on either side of us, we could take in all the goings-on in the packed front room, from the older woman who dumped her entire change purse on the bar so the bartender could count out what they needed, to the man stumbling his way through the room to greet several friends (we felt lucky for him the that bar was too crowded for him to actually fall on the floor) to the bartender taking a turn around the dancefloor while the musicians interspersed traditional music with some most amazing musical takes on Johnny Cash and…. wait for it… Led Zeppelin.  Meeting the fiddler at the bathroom urinals during their break, I complimented him on their genre range.  He said, “Oh yeah, we call that one our Led Zeprechaun medley.”  When he asked if I was “just passing through,” I introduced myself.  Like others, he complimented me on staying in the smaller Killorglin village rather than the larger Killarney town where the tourists on buses stay.  After one more cider, we decided to call it a night and walk back to our Airbnb.  As we crossed the room through the crowd, the fiddler called out over the microphone, “So long to our friends from San Francisco.” Others yelled, “Why are you leaving?” We had to wonder that ourselves.      

County Limerick

The next morning we drove two hours on roads with (mostly) proper widths to check-in for 2 nights in a riverside view room at Absolute Hotel in downtown Limerick.  This was the most modern hotel we stayed in on this trip and mentally transitioned us from what had felt like a forgotten time in a distant Ireland back to modern times.  After a pub lunch, we met up with Tommy (aka Balor) Lanigan of Balor Otherworld as pre-arranged in front of St. Mary’s Cathedral.  Tommy was easy to spot because he is so familiar to us from his Balor Otherworld Youtube and Instagram accounts of Irish folklore.  But if that wasn’t enough, he was carrying an amazing walking stick topped with a curved ram’s horn.  The stick drew so much admiration from others throughout the afternoon that once we almost thought another tour guide was going to hijack him from us.  But Tommy politely disengaged from them to turn his attention back to us.  Tommy walked us through the St. Mary Cathedral and grounds, telling us stories that the clergy might not have appreciated as much as us.  Among the mind-expanding sights that he pointed out that we might have passed over had we been on our own was the “leper’s squint” which is a narrow medieval architectural slit in the church wall that allowed people with leprosy to listen to the Mass and receive Communion from outside the building during the Middle Ages when the disease was thought to be contagious. From there, Tommy took us on a walking tour of the medieval heart of Limerick City which included a visit to King John’s Castle from the scaffolding around the underground foundation to the top of the tower overlooking the Thomond Bridge which is said to be haunted.  Tommy interspursed his stories of Limerick’s folklore with insight into how the city has confronted more modern day conflicts.

The next morning, we ventured into downtown Limerick to the Story Cafe which turned into a very memorable breakfast in what had become a string of many great meal memories.  The small corner diner had racks of houseplants on its walls and a robust free lending library of books in the back (story cafe, get it).  We had gotten in ahead of the waitress so the grill cook took our order.  He assured Tiger that the 5-egg omelets were indeed made with five eggs. Not to be put off, I ordered the Bob Marley omelet with spinach and goat cheese.  Tiger enjoyed two perfectly poached eggs with a pile of toast. On the chalkboard menu behind the counter, I saw something called a Cappuccino Limerick which I was told meant it came with whipped cream on top.  OK, I was feeling adventurous.  Since the chalkboard showed two prices, I said “make them large sized.” That’s when the cook-turned-waiter told me “they only come in one size but I’ll call it a large.”  I love this country.  After we drank those, the waitress had arrived and we ordered another round of plain Americanos from her because by then we had noticed that every table had a small bottle of cream on it.  We waddled back to the hotel to meet our guide.

Tommy picked us up in his car for a full day of guiding and storytelling, largely focused on east Clare County, Killaloe, and the legend of Brian Boru.  This tour included a motorboat ride from the lakeside town of Mountshannon to the uninhabited Inis Celyon forge mountainbaltra (Holy Island) with the ruins of an ancient monastery.  There were only 4 of us on the island that morning, unless you count the herd of sheep.  After the boatman Ger Madden returned us to the mainland, Tommy drove us past Lyons Forge in hopes that the blacksmith would be there.  He was and we were thrilled to meet Reece Foster who is an artisan blacksmith working by hand without electricity in a 270-year-old forge.  Reese is carving out an amazing life, making artwork that he sells on Etsy and inspiring other budding artisans.  His @saulforged Instagram account has almost 350,000 followers (yeah, that many).  Reese’s brutal candidness about how blacksmithing has helped him heal from a mental health crisis and connected him with so many aspiring artisans and appreciable patrons was soothing to hear.  His pride was infectious as he pointed out repairs he’s made to the ancient hearth and giant bellows in his compact shop.  Then he excitedly shared how he was envisioning the sculptural art piece he was making at that moment, and demonstrated the use of tools that he’s made in order to create his art.  Tommy shared later that he was pleased we were able to connect with Reese and how he didn’t want to promise a visit with Reese in advance since the artist can be elusive.  

For lunch, we stopped in a cafe that just opened in the recently expanded McKernan Woolen Mills.  As we stepped into the cafe, we heard eight people with ukuleles sitting throughout the cafe tables in the midst of a rousing joint performance of Take Me Home, Country Roads.  It sounded like many more that that in such a small space.  In the 1970’s, the first stadium concert that I ever bought tickets for was to see John Denver with the opening act, Starland Vocal Band.  So you’d think I would have been prepared for a sea of ukuleles. But I wasn’t. Still, it felt wonderful to be in the warm embrace of a community celebrating our international language of music.  We made our way to the counter and ordered sausage rolls and butternut squash soup.  Then we chose to sit on the sunny patio where the music was just slightly quieter as the group began Johnny Cash’s Ring of Fire.

After lunch, Anke McKernan, the German woman who co-owns the woolen mills with her Irish husband, Eugene, gave us a fascinating private tour of their 120-year-old cast iron loom and other more modern equipment, and talked us through the complex and labor-intensive hand-weaving process.  When we shared that we were from San Francisco, she cheerily bragged that their scarves used to be sold at the DeYoung Art Museum and other museums throughout the United States. Before the tariffs.  We felt plunged into the worst of our modern days.  But she was quick to add that business is good for their products throughout Germany and the rest of the world due to a strong appreciation for Irish hand-woven products.  We felt fortunate to be able to purchase and bring home a scarf from her shop, without import customs incident.  

Next, Tommy walked us just a few blocks though the village of Tuamgraney to St. Cronan’s Church which was built in the 10th century and is the oldest active church in Ireland.  Then Tommy drove us down what seemed to be a random dirt road where he suddenly stopped and pointed across what appeared to be just another cow pasture.  That’s when we saw it.  Known locally as the Be Binn, this mighty pedunculate oak is recognized as Ireland’s largest oak tree. The tree has a girth of 26 feet below its lowest branches with a massive trunk diameter of 10 feet.  It’s reputed to be up to 1,000 years old, though modern estimates suggest it is likely between 300 and 500 years old.  The tree sits on private property so we weren’t able to get closer, but we were grateful that Tommy shared this special spot with us.  Our next stop was the Famine Memorial Park in Tuamgraney.  Tommy shared how the park sits on what is one of the many graveyards surrounding the Scariff workhouse where it is believed over 7,000 people died anonymously from starvation.  A 3-ton millstone, fashioned by the inmates of the Workhouse, has been erected as a fitting memorial along with a soup kitchen pot as a stark reminder of those times.  One corner of the graveyard is known as the “Angel’s Plot”, where unbaptized children were interred on a regular basis over the years without notification or sanction.

It was astonishing to learn from Tommy that the Great Irish Potato Famine, as it is known, was never about a lack of food, but rather about inadequacy of food distribution.  While the potato monoculture crop failed, the rest of Ireland’s agricultural sector—including wheat, oats, and livestock—continued to produce massive quantities of food. However, this food was largely exported to Great Britain to pay rent to wealthy landlords, leaving the local Irish population to starve.  We first heard from Mary G, and Tommy confirmed, that Ireland has yet to return to its pre-Famine population levels. This was incredible to discover, but isn’t hard to imagine. We live in stormy times. And there’s so much that we weren’t taught in school. 

A short way up the road we pulled over and walked to the site of Brian Boru’s fort. He was the High King of Ireland from 1002 to 1014, and first to say he ruled the entire island.  There isn’t much left on the grounds except the steep mound ring that would have surrounded the fort.  However, Tommy brought help us imagine the strategic value of the location and how the King’s army was able to defend the area from invading Vikings based on the narrow river and high ground vantage point.  

Tommy’s passion for telling the stories of Ireland’s past, both good and bad, made the area come alive in our imagination.  His special blend of history and folklore gave us a window into his love of his country’s past.  And we also found it fascinating how candidly he shared his personal experiences raising his four children with his wife in a home near where he grew up, and the trials of being an entrepreneur in a family of civil servants.  Overall, we felt fortunate to have connected with Tommy in person after being enthralled by his videos done in his Balor persona. 

After Tommy dropped us back at our hotel, we walked to Mother Macs Public House for one more local whiskey tasting.  Again, we found ourselves blending into the background of a pub surrounded by spirited discussions among oldtimers and young working professionals.  Mother Macs has over 100 whiskeys on its shelves.  Alas, we tasted just eight small pours between us.  Perhaps next time; there must be a next time.  We walked on a few more blocks to a classic pub dinner just as the kitchen was closing at Old Quarter Pub.  The meal ended with our first taste of sticky toffee pudding.  It was served with whipped cream, but the waiter asked if we also wanted a side of ice cream.  We urged him to serve the pudding to us the way he would eat it.  It seems they can’t serve you enough cream in this country.  Another reason we love it here so much. 

On our last morning in Ireland, we made the 30-minute drive back to Shannon Airport where we returned the rental car without incident with the low fuel light blinking that we had drained almost all of the pre-paid tank.  With a couple hours before our flight, we leisurely enjoyed a bowl of breakfast porridge with an Irish coffee (and more whipped cream), and then proceeded to our gate, going through both Ireland security and U.S. customs within the Shannon Airport so we could proceed straight to our connecting flight at the Newark, NJ airport.