I fell in love with the sea, and water in general, from spending my childhood holidays in Kerry. My father held me high above the waves in Ballybunion and, seemingly by osmosis, passed on the craft and the joy of swimming. I did the same for my own son, on the same beach, and together we have sought out wild places to swim all over Ireland.
As last summer drew to a close, we headed southwest for one final adventure, swimming in waterfalls and lakes in the mountains around Killarney before camping in a field by Bín Bán beach at the mouth of Dingle Bay. No shower was needed the next morning with the waves mere seconds from our tent. I’ve visited Dingle countless times, but drawn further west to the mesmerising beauty of Slea Head, I’d somehow missed this perfect little cove where Fungie the dolphin first appeared.
Over the winter months I began poring over maps of west Kerry, searching for other hidden lakes and remote beaches that I’d also overlooked. Further research uncovered information about multiple outdoor saunas that have popped up along the peninsula, many of them conveniently positioned near the swimming spots on my list.
As the days lengthened and spring took hold, we set out for the southwest again, this time accompanied by my wife, who joins us on trips that don’t involve tents.
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A sudden shower of hailstones beat on the car roof as we traversed na Gleannta Thuaidh, the glens beyond Dingle, almost keeping time with Cormac Begley’s concertina playing on the speakers.
The shower had passed by the time we arrived at Feothanach beach, the top of snow-dusted Mount Brandon sparkling at our back. A race up and down the sand got our blood pumping for the feat ahead and the sudden appearance of the sun eased the shock as we gingerly stepped into the cold sea. We swam out beyond the rocks, with the triangular silhouette of Teararght Island hovering in the distance. Having all of this landscape to ourselves, buffeted by the wind and the waves, we forged a powerful connection to nature – a bond that is sadly less available in our city lives.
Begley soundtracked our trip here as he has recently opened Airt, a school for the arts, in a former B&B just above the cliff at the far end of the beach. He also manages Sánas Sauna, located on his front lawn, and within minutes of our swim we were staving off near-hypothermia in 100-degree heat. The Three Sisters headland was perfectly framed by the window.
Over the next hour Cormac told us about his life and career, casting a spell far and wide with his virtuoso concertina playing. He pointed out Mount Eagle and Cruach Mhárthain before sharing a copy of his father’s book, Of my People. Breanndán Begley, also a famed musician, was born in this parish and continues to live here. I opened his book randomly to read that in his youth, he was forbidden from swimming in these waters as “the sea never made with friends with anyone”. I spent some time here in my own youth, learning Irish in the next village, Muiríoch. It rained for the whole month, but that didn’t stop me swimming most afternoons at Muiríoch beach. I hadn’t realised back then that the locals saw the water very differently.
Annascaul is firmly on the map as the birthplace of Antarctic explorer Tom Crean. Annascaul lake, nestled beneath Coumduff Mountain, a few kilometres above the village, is less well known. The drive up the valley, on an increasingly narrow road, was every bit as breathtaking as Kerry’s more celebrated beauty spots. The 1800s saw many young men from this area, not just Crean, join the British Naval Service. As the lake appeared before us, I imagined many of them learning to swim here.
Easing into the icy water, my eye was drawn to a waterfall on a hillside that feeds into this corrie lake and I began to understand why National Geographic once cited this peninsula as the most beautiful place on Earth. As our strokes took us further into the dark lake, we paused for a minute, breathing in slowly, absorbing the pristine mountain air.
Returning down the hill, a signpost directed us towards Crean’s final resting place in a graveyard within earshot of a mountain stream. “Home is the sailor, home from the sea” – the Robert Louis Stevenson quote from his poem Requiem – was fittingly inscribed upon his tomb. Back in Annascaul, we warmed up at Báinín cafe in the village with cups of coffee and hot sausage rolls.
The epic scenery continued as we drove on, this time headed for Glenteenassig Wood, not far from Castlegregory. Beenoskee and Stradbally Mountain towered above us, with soaring pines fringing the lakeside as we ventured deeper into the valley. A wooden boardwalk around Lough Caum led us away from the throng of hikers to a quieter spot for swimming. Somewhat acclimatised to the cold water at this stage, we swam further out towards the centre. All the noise of the world receded as we lay on our backs, gazing upwards at vertiginous rocky slopes painted every shade of purple.
Acumeen Farm lies just down the hill from Glenteenassig. Matt and Maura practise regenerative agriculture and have planted thousands of native trees on their land. An hour in their self-built sauna with views of the mountains soon had us able to feel our feet again. Matt sold us some of their eggs and showed us their self-catering cottage before recommending we stop off at Tomásín’s, in nearby Stradbally, for lunch. A yellow thatched pub came into view and before long, multiple delicious Korean-style dishes appeared before us, served by a fantastic owner whose superb conversational skills won us over as much as the food.
The Conor Pass led to our final swim of the day. Parking at a small waterfall, halfway up this famed mountain road, we scrambled up the rocks to a steep-walled hollow where Peddler’s Lake soon appeared.
With monumental views of Mount Brandon and the U-shaped valley below, this was arguably the most extraordinary place I’ve ever pulled my togs on. While stunningly beautiful, the water was bitingly cold and my son’s loud cursing echoed back at us from the surrounding cliffs. Local endurance swimmer Nuala Moore trains here for her many adventures around the world.
Our descent into Dingle offered more panoramic views, with the Dingle Skellig Hotel, our home on the water’s edge for the next two nights, catching the light in the distance. Our room looked across the harbour to Carhoo Hill topped with Eask Tower, and within minutes of checking in we were gazing at the same view from the warmth of the hotel’s outdoor hot tub.
The Skellig’s restaurant also looks out to sea, with Valentia Island darkening by the second across the other side of the bay. Whole sole on the bone swimming in brown butter and capers soon brightened up our table, caught locally that morning and a welcome treat after our long day in the water. The hotel receptionist talked us through our pub options, before deciding that low-ceilinged O’Sullivan’s Courthouse would fit the bill. She was right, a music session was kicking off in the corner as we arrived and finding free stools beside a lit stove fulfilled all our pub requirements. A pint was barely needed.
Seamus Heaney described the weather of this peninsula as ‘loud’ in his poem The Given Note. That night, curled up in the Skellig’s warm beds, the wind howled outside our window, the sea boomed and the sound of these untamed forces of nature at play was the ultimate way to fall asleep.
The Skellig is famed for its breakfast, especially the home-baked brown bread, and after poached eggs and salmon we hit the road west for a swim at Ventry beach. DJ Annie Mac swims here at sunrise during the Other Voices festival every December, but the sun was long up unfortunately by the time we pulled into the car park. Several other swimmers were braving the waves already and we joined them briefly before beating a retreat to Sona Sauna, mere steps from the beach. After whipping up the heat in the space with some impressive towel flicking, founder Tom Connolly explained that he had traded in his Dublin life to set up this sauna. The soaring temperature sent us all running out, racing back to the sea for a longer stretch in the bracing water.
Back in town, I met up with my college friend Michelle from Dunquin for a coffee at Bean in Dingle. After recounting the details of our swims across the peninsula, she ushered me across the road to Strawberry Beds, a linen shop owned by Moore, the endurance swimmer. Moore transfixed me with tales of her record-breaking swims across the Bering Strait and off Cape Horn, all delivered in flowing West Kerry Irish. We left Moore’s shop with a signed copy of her autobiography Limitless, feeling incredibly buoyed by our time in her presence.
In the afternoon, with our lust for cold water finally sated, we drove around the harbour instead to Carhoo Hill, paying €2 to a local farmer to access his fields. Eask Tower sits on the summit, built as a famine relief measure to signal the entrance to the harbour. Pummelled by the wind on the ascent, we sheltered behind the beacon’s stone walls to take in the vista, stretching across many of the beaches and lakes on our wild swimming itinerary.
Benners Hotel on Main Street is Dingle’s oldest hotel, dating back to the early 1800s. It has hosted everyone from Robert Mitchum during the filming of Ryan’s Daughter to Amy Winehouse when she performed at Other Voices in 2006. The hotel also offers amazing food, and on our last night in town we settled by the fire in the bar for plates of fish and chips. John Foley, the hotel manager, regaled us with tales of Mrs Benner, whose image presides over the room in a large painting by the bar.
A final sweep of Dingle’s many pubs led us to Kennedy’s, also on the Main Street, with candlelit rooms and a mix of locals and American visitors.
At the hotel, I read Moore’s book long into the night. The opening chapter features a story of one of her first feats of endurance. Aged 10, she swam after her older brother from Sláidín beach (visible from our hotel window) around the dangerous channel by the lighthouse and on to Bín Bán beach at the mouth of Dingle harbour – a distance of about a kilometre. The next morning we followed the same path that Moore walked as a child, along the cliff from the Skellig, on to Sláidín, and past the lighthouse before a final swim at Bín Bán beach.
Fergal McCarthy was a guest of the Dingle Skellig Hotel
