As children, my siblings and I adored Derrynane beach, near Caherdaniel, in Co Kerry, close to where we holidayed every August. One brother loved the place so much he went back to live there permanently. The rest of us now have to make do with occasional visits.
Derrynane is first glimpsed in the distance from the Coomakista road high above, and I've always felt sorry for the coachloads rushing round the Ring of Kerry, who only see it like a dream from the windows of a bus. Derrynane is now a Blue Flag beach, but even when we were children, before this system of quality assessment, we always knew Derrynane was a class act.
Half the delight of the place was getting there. The Bunavalla road our holiday house was on ended at BΘal Trβ pier. This meant either a short boat journey across to Derrynane for my brothers (then doing summer jobs skippering boats to the Skelligs), or, for my sister and I, and sometimes our parents, walking with togs and a picnic across the Mass Path.
This path, used in Penal Times, is my favourite short walk in Ireland: a secret, twisty, hilly path through gorse and heather, with spectacular views over the sea from the rocky headland that connects BΘal Trβ and Derrynane. The beach itself is an idyllic sheltered sandy cove, at the edge of sand dunes, with impossibly beautiful pure blue-green water and views out to the Skelligs on a clear day.
Once, my sister almost drowned by swimming out to rescue my water ring. We didn't tell our parents for a long time. It belonged to the secrets of childhood. It was from here I went out, aged six, with my father to the Skelligs one day. I can still see that splintered rock and hear the wild soughing of water, bird cry, wind and ghosts.
And the wonderful Keatings Bar endures, just up the road, where Bridie Keating served minerals to us as children, and now serves me Guinness instead of 7-Up when I visit.
