The rest of my stay in Ireland is in Dingle, a small seaside town on the Dingle Peninsula farther southwest along the coast. A favorite destination for local travelers, Dingle is known not only for its smorgasbord of local arts and crafts, but for its captivating scenery as well. The small harbor filled with fishing boats sets a charming backdrop to the village's quaint shop-lined avenues. The Dingle Peninsula rivals California's Central Coast, its circumnavigating road reminiscent of Highway 1. The Peninsula offers amazing historical spots, including Druid-built stone beehive huts from as early as 400 A.D. and Ogham stones carved with ancient texts.
Dingle boasts some 40 pubs, almost all of which have live music every night. An Droichead Beag (Celtic for "The Little Bridge," referring to the small bridge next to the pub) hosts a particularly talented pair of musicians, a male guitarist and female flutist/violinist. A pint or two of Guinness, a warm fire, and some interesting folks from around the globe make for a lovely evening listening to traditional Celtic music. Dingle really captures the quintessential Ireland I'd been dreaming of all these years. I don't want to leave.
Walking back to my bed-and-breakfast that evening, I catch sight of the Range Rover Sport parked at the curb. Its sleek lines, 20-inch alloy wheels, and newly discovered comforts are tempting me to forget my plane tomorrow and continue on up Ireland's West Coast. There's so much more country to see and certainly more Rover abilities to test. I'll just have to come back next year for another adventure.