We had doubts whether today’s hike was going to happen at all. Our route would take us over the shoulder of Mt. Brandon, the highest point of our trip and the farthest from a road. It had rained steadily through the night and the mountain was fogged in when we woke. The locals say the trail is dangerous in a dense fog because one can lose the path and there are perilous cliffs by the sea edge. So we made up our minds not to go: safety first.

Two hours later, after finishing breakfast and packing, the situation had changed. The fog had lifted somewhat, and the forecast was for a strong breeze that would prevent it from settling in hard. The locals thought we would be ok and the other through-hikers at our B&B had already set off. So we quickly adjusted our packing, left our suitcases for transport, and hit the trail again!

Unlike most previous sections of the Dingle Way, which had been either road or well-trodden paths, the stretch up Mt. Brandon crossed open hillside marked only by meandering and misleading sheep paths. Our only way of staying on track was to search for the periodic signposts bearing the Dingle Way marker. (We’ve come to think of the cheerful hiker icon atop these poles as The Dingle Man, our loyal friend and guide.) These were spaced perhaps 150 meters apart at first, and as we moved higher, the fog closed in so we could barely discern the next one ahead. In fact, in the highest reaches, the trail caretakers added fluorescent markers to the posts to aid in visibility or used solid white stakes spaced closer together.

Fog aside, the hardest thing about the climb was the fact that it had rained steadily for hours before and the entire mountainside was a series of streams and waterfalls. At times there were no dry places to step and we both had a squelch in our socks before we were halfway up. Would you believe, we were actually having a great time? 🙂

We counted 54 marker posts in all on the way up, the last at the ridge line which was also marked with a low stone wall. Just on the far side of the wall stood the second Ogham stone of our trip, this one clearly marked with a Celtic cross and writing that we’re told reads “Ronan the Priest, son of Comgan”. We took a picture but didn’t linger because the wind and rain were pretty fierce at this exposed location.

Several sources had warned that the trail down the other side was very steep and slippery in wet weather. Imagine our relief when we discovered a long stone staircase covering the entire length of the steep descent. (Apparently, these stairs have only been added within the past year – and they make a huge difference!)

The stairs-turned-rocky trail transformed in time to a gravel path, which we followed for several more kilometers down the rest of the mountain. As the weather gradually improved, we even could see the bay below. We reached Murphy’s pier side pub in Brandon just in time for the start of the All-Ireland Football Final, pitting Kerry against Galway. Now you may be thinking, as we were, that you know what football means in Europe. So we grabbed some food and beer and an outdoor table where we could see the TV screen, and readied ourselves for a good game of soccer. Picture our surprise when different players kept picking up the ball in their hands while other players tried to tackle them. Turns out, Irish football is a lot like hurling, only with a soccer ball and no sticks. Who knew? Kerry took the day, so we count ourselves as a good luck charm for the local team of the places we visit.

Even on our last day, the Dingle Way continues to surprise us with new ways to charm. Coming down the hillside into Cloghane on our final leg, we hiked beside a row of fantastically gnarled holly trees planted by a brook, passed a fairy garden adorned with offerings, and finally came upon a churchyard with a silent and ivy-covered belfry.

Our lodging in Cloghane is reminiscent of the colorful buildings in Dingle, and from our window we can see the bay that we spent the afternoon hiking alongside. This marks the third and final segment of our Dingle Way trek. Tomorrow we trade our hiking boots for buses as we bid a fond farewell to County Kerry.