One Night in Dingle

It had been a long day, driving all the way from Ballymaloe just east of Cork, through Killarney for lunch, with another stop at the Gap of Dunloe, when we arrived in Dingle. We first landed at Inch Beach, where we ran from the car to the wide, sandy beach, with the cool North Atlantic beckoning from just beyond. A quick romp into the water sent us squealing back to shore. And so we ventured back to the main road leading to town.

We found our inn on the edge of the main drag of Dingle - a charming place with a sea view. After checking in, we made our way to the center of town. Apart from exploring the charms of Dingle, we were also on a mission to find a very specific type of ivory, cableknit, buttoned, cardigan for my friend’s mother. And so we kept bobbing in and out of every sweater shop we spotted, determined to find this elusive item. 

After much searching, we needed some fuel, so we found a pub and tucked into a nice shepherd’s pie and a pint. Afterwards, we wandered around for a bit before selecting the Dingle Pub. We didn’t know it at the time, but we were about to embark upon an epic pub crawl through Dingle.

As we sat with a half-pint at a table in the crowded Dingle Pub, a young man approached and asked if he may have a seat and join us at our table. We motioned for him to sit down and gradually got to talking. His name was Eamonn and he was a guide, currently showing a multi-generational American family around Ireland. The family were off on their own for the evening, and so he had the night off. We told him that we were old friends from our university days and fell into easy conversation. After we had finished our drinks, he asked if we were up for trying another place. The night was young, and we were game for an adventure, so we ventured out together.

As it turned out, Eamonn was a frequent visitor to Dingle and knew just where to go. Our next stop was Dick Mack’s Pub around the corner. It was here that I learned about a most ingenious part of a pub - the Snug. This was a secret room next to the bar, hidden behind a door with direct access to the bartender. It was historically used most often by members of the clergy, paramours for their secret assignations, and women since frequenting a pub was not considered moral or appropriate back in the day. I thought this was a brilliant and cozy spot, and fortunately in this particular snug, there was plenty of room for the three of us.

From Dick Mack’s we pub-hopped a bit, during which Eamonn told us of his family and how he had been adopted as an infant. His birth mother was an unwed woman and was sent by her family to a “mother and baby home” in Ireland. At the time, unmarried women were coerced into giving up their babies, and many children faced harsh conditions in the homes. Fortunately for Eamonn, he was adopted at a young age by a family who raised him as their own. Only recently had he managed to identify his birth mother, and much to everyone’s joy and surprised, she not only agreed to meet him, but introduced him to his half-siblings as she had married and had a family of her own. Eamonn was one of the lucky ones, and he spoke of his family, birth and adoptive, with great warmth and affection.

As he finished his story and downed the rest of his pint, he insisted that we close out the night at Nelligan’s. This turned out to be the most inspired idea of the evening, and yet again, Eamonn had steered us to the perfect spot. We ended the evening listening to some of the best music, and even taking a spin on the dance floor! And as we bid farewell to Eamonn and made our way back to the B&B for what would prove to be a short night followed by another long day, we relished the memories and new friend that we made that night.