South American footsteps: Saturday 25th February

I must write a short account of my Half Term Adventures. I spent a week in the West of Ireland, climbing some mountains, going to some ceilis, and visiting old friends. In the process I met some new friends and sang with them. It was my idea of heaven.

Portmagee at sunset

I started off in Portmagee, County Kerry, where I stayed in a completely deserted hostel and then walked round Bray Head in the next morning. The weather was stunning.

This picture was taken on the way from Portmagee to Bray Head, looking back towards the mountains that consist of Carrauntoohill among others, the highest mountain in Ireland.

Looking back from Bray Head at the Skelligs

Danny Allen with his son Aengus and nephew Andrew. One happy family.

The last outdoors dancing stage for set dancers was built here in 1939. It just looked like a cracked concrete lane but was lovely to see. I wished there had been 7 other people there to make up the set!

The green house where Freda and Bobby Allen lived in Toormore, near Goleen, County Cork. Iwas terrified that it had been painted some dready shade of magnolia. Thankfully it remained green and was inhabited by John Allen, son of the above. The buoys still hung from the trees. Some things don't change in Cork south-west.

The tunnels at the Cork and Kerry border in between Kenmare and Glengarriff. I could drive this road forever.

The cairn at the top of Barraboy Mountain, county Kerry

Cheryl O' Suilleabhean, author of "Seesaws and Rainbows Part 1 - England" with her old friends Rachel. Her house was colourful and her strulberry jam superb. Thanks Cheryl!!

The best thing about ireland is the unexpected people you meet. I had a cup of tea in a bar near Rathkeal (in the Sliabh Liucra region) and could have moved in there for life. There was a sing-song at about 11.30 in the morning. Only in Ireland.

A chance meeting with an old friend - Noel Burke - after meeting his lovely wife Nina at a Sean Nos workshop in the Abbey Hotel, Ballyvourney. But then wonderful things have always happened in Ballyvourney. Locals would blame St Gobnet of course. I went and said a few quiet prayers myself while I was there.

Goodby Aggie McCarthy. Your friendship and generosity will never be forgotten. Even though you aren't named, a relative told me you were buried in this grave in Glengarriff with your husband Timothy. I hope you are dancing at crossroads and cycling round together as you often described to me.