Travel Guides: All Countries / Europe / Ireland / County Cork
 |  | Travel Reviews : County Cork |
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| | | | Grin and Beara it
We were sitting in the glory that is MacCarthy's bar in Castletownbere. 'You're going to change my life,' I announced to Deirdre Purcell.
It was early September in 1997, a week into filming her novel Falling For A Dancer, set on the wild and magnificent Beara Peninsula in Ireland's far South West. I had fallen in love.
It seemed to happen so quickly. I realised that this was going to be no casual romance. I had a need in me that had to be satisfied.
I was born in Cork but raised in London, where my work as an actor keeps me. London's fine, but I didn't want to just go back when the filming was over and never see this place again.
I think it was a combination of things that got me to such a love-sick state. Fortunately, my wife Suzanne was very understanding.
Deirdre's story, set in the Forties, tells the romantic tale of a city girl who, after a traumatic love life, ends up in a remote part of the Beara Peninsula.
Our producer, Peter Norris, had found some wonderful locations, the most spectacular being Claonach, a hidden valley in the mountains.
It's accessible only by four-wheel drive after a heart-stopping journey along the edge of a cliff overlooking Coulagh Bay.
We filmed for almost three months, getting to know the local people, most of whom were in the film or connected with it in some way, and experiencing the grandeur of the West Cork weather in all its unpredictable glory.
Long, lazy days with unimaginably blue skies stretching way out beyond the coastline, so clear you could see almost all the way to Boston!
Trave guide: County Cork
Grin and Beara it
We were sitting in the glory that is MacCarthy's bar in Castletownbere. 'You're going to change my life,' I announced to Deirdre Purcell.
It was early September in 1997, a week into filming her novel Falling For A Dancer, set on the wild and magnificent Beara Peninsula in Ireland's far South West. I had fallen in love.
It seemed to happen so quickly. I realised that this was going to be no casual romance. I had a need in me that had to be satisfied.
I was born in Cork but raised in London, where my work as an actor keeps me. London's fine, but I didn't want to just go back when the filming was over and never see this place again.
I think it was a combination of things that got me to such a love-sick state. Fortunately, my wife Suzanne was very understanding.
Deirdre's story, set in the Forties, tells the romantic tale of a city girl who, after a traumatic love life, ends up in a remote part of the Beara Peninsula.
Our producer, Peter Norris, had found some wonderful locations, the most spectacular being Claonach, a hidden valley in the mountains.
It's accessible only by four-wheel drive after a heart-stopping journey along the edge of a cliff overlooking Coulagh Bay.
We filmed for almost three months, getting to know the local people, most of whom were in the film or connected with it in some way, and experiencing the grandeur of the West Cork weather in all its unpredictable glory.
Long, lazy days with unimaginably blue skies stretching way out beyond the coastline, so clear you could see almost all the way to Boston!
Travel guide: County Cork
Rather taken by the waters
From the Mail on Sunday
The southern Irish coast is never less than wonderful - but the views from Inchydoney are downright spectacular.
If you were told to design the dream location for a spa, you couldn't come up with anything more perfect.
The spa at Inchydoney Island sits on a spit of land above a white horseshoe bay on west Cork's most dramatic stretch of coast.
Here a canny French doctor and an English hotelier have established the only thalassotherapy (seawater) spa outside mainland Europe.
When it opened three years ago, only a handful of clients were men. Now 40 per cent of visitors are spa virgins taking the plunge.
'It's best to start them off with a massage,' Patricia the manager tells me. 'Then they'll be putty in your hands.'
I book without delay, hoping to lure stressed boyfriend Nicholas away with promises of Beamish and bars and live music - with a bit of warm seawater thrown in.
In the spa, Atlantic seawater is pumped in from Inchydoney's Blue Flag beach, heated to blood temperature and used in a variety of jets and pools to relax, rejuvenate and revive tired or injured bodies.
The boyfriend is persuaded...
THE CONSULTATION
Her: Parisian Dr Jost (chinos, burgundy shirt) meets me (white dressing gown) by the fire in the clubby library and bar. 'I'm 53,' he announces. 'I don't look it, do I?' (He doesn't.)
He explains how seawater puts nutrients into the body and then the algae takes toxins out. Apparently enlightened French employees lay on biannual treatments for staff.
I brief Dr Jost to talk to the workaholic, Coca-Cola-guzzling boyfriend about stress, sleep and diet.
Him: Dr Jost tells me he treated the French Rugby team in the Eighties; the Irish team comes here regularly.
I imagine the great, bald pate of Ireland's veteran captain Keith Wood taking on the water jets.
The spa cost something around £14 million to build and is one of 100 thalassotherapy centres worldwide.
One on Biarritz is owned by Serge Blanco, the legendary French rugby full back. Dr Jost advised him on design.
Trave guide: County Cork
Rather taken by the waters
From the Mail on Sunday
The southern Irish coast is never less than wonderful - but the views from Inchydoney are downright spectacular.
If you were told to design the dream location for a spa, you couldn't come up with anything more perfect.
The spa at Inchydoney Island sits on a spit of land above a white horseshoe bay on west Cork's most dramatic stretch of coast.
Here a canny French doctor and an English hotelier have established the only thalassotherapy (seawater) spa outside mainland Europe.
When it opened three years ago, only a handful of clients were men. Now 40 per cent of visitors are spa virgins taking the plunge.
'It's best to start them off with a massage,' Patricia the manager tells me. 'Then they'll be putty in your hands.'
I book without delay, hoping to lure stressed boyfriend Nicholas away with promises of Beamish and bars and live music - with a bit of warm seawater thrown in.
In the spa, Atlantic seawater is pumped in from Inchydoney's Blue Flag beach, heated to blood temperature and used in a variety of jets and pools to relax, rejuvenate and revive tired or injured bodies.
The boyfriend is persuaded...
THE CONSULTATION
Her: Parisian Dr Jost (chinos, burgundy shirt) meets me (white dressing gown) by the fire in the clubby library and bar. 'I'm 53,' he announces. 'I don't look it, do I?' (He doesn't.)
He explains how seawater puts nutrients into the body and then the algae takes toxins out. Apparently enlightened French employees lay on biannual treatments for staff.
I brief Dr Jost to talk to the workaholic, Coca-Cola-guzzling boyfriend about stress, sleep and diet.
Him: Dr Jost tells me he treated the French Rugby team in the Eighties; the Irish team comes here regularly.
I imagine the great, bald pate of Ireland's veteran captain Keith Wood taking on the water jets.
The spa cost something around £14 million to build and is one of 100 thalassotherapy centres worldwide.
One on Biarritz is owned by Serge Blanco, the legendary French rugby full back. Dr Jost advised him on design.
Travel guide: County Cork
Dog days in Cork
What a grand night I had when I went to the dogs. Cork City's new Curraheen Park Greyhound Stadium is a state-of-the-art centre for fun and a flutter.
From comfortable seats overlooking the track, punters psyched up by the action and excitement, tuck into chips and cheesecake, down a pint or three, place their bets (as little as one euro a race) and cheer wildly each time the traps open and the dogs streak after the electric hare.
Admittedly, one greyhound looks very much like another to a novice such as myself but, blow me down, my first and second dogs, Tycoon Spark and Hidden Fancy, won.
Total strangers flung their arms round me, children punched the air and urged me on. Third time lucky. Ha! The traps opened, my dog sat down and I lost my winnings. The story of my life.
But I stayed on, you bet, for the live music and it was easy to see how a person might become hooked.
Live music is one of the delights of Cork. The city, buzzing with a sense of regeneration and a new European identity, has brilliant buskers and great pubs made irresistible by traditional tin whistles, fiddles and bodhrans.
People were packing into Greene's restaurant (fab food, incidentally) for the Three Celtic Tenors live, just back from their sell-out American tour, and all tickets were sold for Nigel Kennedy playing Bach with the Irish orchestra.
Strolling through town you see fashion stores and trendy boutiques rubbing shoulders with music and antique shops. The English Market, a vast Victorian food emporium where everything is organic, fresh and home-produced, is to drool over.
Here are home-cured hams, home-baked pies and cakes, and an imaginative variety of bread including a miraculous raspberry and chocolate loaf which, spread with locally churned butter, is a treat of gourmet proportions.
Upstairs, on the balcony, the Farmgate Cafe offers great home-cooked Irish stew, or tripe and onions, and the opportunity to people watch.
Trave guide: County Cork
Dog days in Cork
What a grand night I had when I went to the dogs. Cork City's new Curraheen Park Greyhound Stadium is a state-of-the-art centre for fun and a flutter.
From comfortable seats overlooking the track, punters psyched up by the action and excitement, tuck into chips and cheesecake, down a pint or three, place their bets (as little as one euro a race) and cheer wildly each time the traps open and the dogs streak after the electric hare.
Admittedly, one greyhound looks very much like another to a novice such as myself but, blow me down, my first and second dogs, Tycoon Spark and Hidden Fancy, won.
Total strangers flung their arms round me, children punched the air and urged me on. Third time lucky. Ha! The traps opened, my dog sat down and I lost my winnings. The story of my life.
But I stayed on, you bet, for the live music and it was easy to see how a person might become hooked.
Live music is one of the delights of Cork. The city, buzzing with a sense of regeneration and a new European identity, has brilliant buskers and great pubs made irresistible by traditional tin whistles, fiddles and bodhrans.
People were packing into Greene's restaurant (fab food, incidentally) for the Three Celtic Tenors live, just back from their sell-out American tour, and all tickets were sold for Nigel Kennedy playing Bach with the Irish orchestra.
Strolling through town you see fashion stores and trendy boutiques rubbing shoulders with music and antique shops. The English Market, a vast Victorian food emporium where everything is organic, fresh and home-produced, is to drool over.
Here are home-cured hams, home-baked pies and cakes, and an imaginative variety of bread including a miraculous raspberry and chocolate loaf which, spread with locally churned butter, is a treat of gourmet proportions.
Upstairs, on the balcony, the Farmgate Cafe offers great home-cooked Irish stew, or tripe and onions, and the opportunity to people watch.
Travel guide: County Cork
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| | | | So ridiculously perfect
Then suddenly great dark clouds bundle up over the bay and furiously charge in from the ocean, set on reminding us what rain feels like.
Walls of water come sweeping in from the Atlantic but just as suddenly they stop and shafts of light hit the sea as if God himself was operating the lighting board.
Then, more often than not, a rainbow appears, so ridiculously perfect that it should be in a film all by itself.
The more I got to know the people, and the more I saw of the countryside, the longer I stood dreaming in front of estate agents' windows, or followed bumpy tracks whenever a 'For Sale' sign beckoned.
But there was always something not quite right.
Then one day, we were due to film a sequence where the family go to church and the location was a village called Eyeries.
Now, Eyeries is one of the most beautiful villages in all Ireland, indeed it has won the Silver Medal in the Tidy Towns competition for the past two years (and hopes are high for the Gold).
It is set on a hill overlooking Coulagh Bay and all of the houses are painted in glorious colours. I loved it from the moment I first saw it.
By great good fortune, I met a Batty and Rosarie O'Neill, who had a site for sale in the heart of Eyeries. It had full planning permission. I was home.
You'll recall W. B. Yeats, dreaming of a poetic home on Innisfree, planned 'a small cabin to build there, of clay and wattles made'. I was more practical.
So on the plot now stand two cottages, The Blue House for Suzanne and me and The Pink House as an all-year holiday let.
So ridiculously perfect
Then suddenly great dark clouds bundle up over the bay and furiously charge in from the ocean, set on reminding us what rain feels like.
Walls of water come sweeping in from the Atlantic but just as suddenly they stop and shafts of light hit the sea as if God himself was operating the lighting board.
Then, more often than not, a rainbow appears, so ridiculously perfect that it should be in a film all by itself.
The more I got to know the people, and the more I saw of the countryside, the longer I stood dreaming in front of estate agents' windows, or followed bumpy tracks whenever a 'For Sale' sign beckoned.
But there was always something not quite right.
Then one day, we were due to film a sequence where the family go to church and the location was a village called Eyeries.
Now, Eyeries is one of the most beautiful villages in all Ireland, indeed it has won the Silver Medal in the Tidy Towns competition for the past two years (and hopes are high for the Gold).
It is set on a hill overlooking Coulagh Bay and all of the houses are painted in glorious colours. I loved it from the moment I first saw it.
By great good fortune, I met a Batty and Rosarie O'Neill, who had a site for sale in the heart of Eyeries. It had full planning permission. I was home.
You'll recall W. B. Yeats, dreaming of a poetic home on Innisfree, planned 'a small cabin to build there, of clay and wattles made'. I was more practical.
So on the plot now stand two cottages, The Blue House for Suzanne and me and The Pink House as an all-year holiday let.
Aqua-aerobics and algotherapy
AQUA-AEROBICS
Her: The curved indoor pool is full of jets and geysers. It's flooded with morning sunshine and looks straight out on to the white beach.
Lynne, our aqua-aerobics instructor, tells us our movements are easier in seawater as you weigh 10 times less. Perhaps that's why I keep popping up when I try to stand on the bottom.
The mood in the pool is cheerful, with several vast matrons bobbing around weightlessly.
Him: 'Nicholas! The warrior pose please!' commands Lynne. I squat like a Maori warrior ready for the haka.
I love the heavy seawater waterfall, like thousands of invigorating fingers drumming along my shoulder blades. Think Woody Allen and the orgasmatron in Sleeper.
ALGOTHERAPY
Her: Like a clingfilm-wrapped chicken joint basted in guacamole, I'm left on a heated bed in candlelight for 20 minutes while the dark green, fish-smelling algae (pulverised Brittany seaweed) draws out my toxins.
But when I'm hosed down, my skin is like satin. Minus my toxins I am a different person.
Men, being nervous, are excused the seaweed wrap. A massage is suggested to 'start them off'.
Him: I'm expecting a masseur. I'm surprised to find myself in the hands of a young, petite brunette called Ursula who didn't seem to expect me to drop my gown to the floor.
Thank God I kept my boxers on. She attacks the little marbles of muscular spasm across my shoulders, asking if she is hurting me. Mildly, I say.
Aqua-aerobics and algotherapy
AQUA-AEROBICS
Her: The curved indoor pool is full of jets and geysers. It's flooded with morning sunshine and looks straight out on to the white beach.
Lynne, our aqua-aerobics instructor, tells us our movements are easier in seawater as you weigh 10 times less. Perhaps that's why I keep popping up when I try to stand on the bottom.
The mood in the pool is cheerful, with several vast matrons bobbing around weightlessly.
Him: 'Nicholas! The warrior pose please!' commands Lynne. I squat like a Maori warrior ready for the haka.
I love the heavy seawater waterfall, like thousands of invigorating fingers drumming along my shoulder blades. Think Woody Allen and the orgasmatron in Sleeper.
ALGOTHERAPY
Her: Like a clingfilm-wrapped chicken joint basted in guacamole, I'm left on a heated bed in candlelight for 20 minutes while the dark green, fish-smelling algae (pulverised Brittany seaweed) draws out my toxins.
But when I'm hosed down, my skin is like satin. Minus my toxins I am a different person.
Men, being nervous, are excused the seaweed wrap. A massage is suggested to 'start them off'.
Him: I'm expecting a masseur. I'm surprised to find myself in the hands of a young, petite brunette called Ursula who didn't seem to expect me to drop my gown to the floor.
Thank God I kept my boxers on. She attacks the little marbles of muscular spasm across my shoulders, asking if she is hurting me. Mildly, I say.
Fast drivers and slow food
The county of Cork itself is a place of fast drivers and slow food. The drivers are mostly lunatics, and motorway boards remind you how many people (182) were killed on Cork's roads last year.
The Slow Food movement is Ireland's way of thumbing its nose at multi-national fast foods, hot-dogs and mass-produced ready meals. Farmers' Markets flourish.
At Midleton Market, brainchild of Darina Allen, owner of the famous Ballymaloe Cookery School, I met Clodagh McKenna, author of a slow food guide, every page extolling the culinary excellence of locally-grown and produced food.
Market stalls included the Arbutus bread-baker, cheesemakers, herb growers, Gubeen Smokehouse meats and Casy O'Conaill's scrummy handmade chocolates. Clodagh herself sells pate and wild salmon fishcakes.
It's an interesting fact that Ireland, with its tragic history of famine, produces some of the highest quality food in the world.
Not forgetting high quality drink, of course. When Irish eyes are smiling, they are usually peering over the rim of a pint of Guinness.
The most bizarre place to drink in the world must be Wallis bar and funeral parlour (the funeral rooms being out back, out of sight) in Midleton.
Proprietor Seamus Cunningham agrees it is an unusual combination and told me: 'Sure, everyone comes through our door eventually. We always say: "We're the last people to let you down."'
When the undertaker, Jerry, arrived for his pint, a bystander nudged me and warned: 'Watch him. He'll be sizing you up.'
Having decided to discover east Cork, I found the lovely Bay View Hotel perched above the harbour in the fishing village of Ballycotton.
There's a spectacular cliff walk rising 200ft above sea level, and soaring flocks of chough and hunting peregrines make this one of Europe's famous bird-watching sites, and every evening lines of silent sea anglers are silhouetted against the sun.
Fast drivers and slow food
The county of Cork itself is a place of fast drivers and slow food. The drivers are mostly lunatics, and motorway boards remind you how many people (182) were killed on Cork's roads last year.
The Slow Food movement is Ireland's way of thumbing its nose at multi-national fast foods, hot-dogs and mass-produced ready meals. Farmers' Markets flourish.
At Midleton Market, brainchild of Darina Allen, owner of the famous Ballymaloe Cookery School, I met Clodagh McKenna, author of a slow food guide, every page extolling the culinary excellence of locally-grown and produced food.
Market stalls included the Arbutus bread-baker, cheesemakers, herb growers, Gubeen Smokehouse meats and Casy O'Conaill's scrummy handmade chocolates. Clodagh herself sells pate and wild salmon fishcakes.
It's an interesting fact that Ireland, with its tragic history of famine, produces some of the highest quality food in the world.
Not forgetting high quality drink, of course. When Irish eyes are smiling, they are usually peering over the rim of a pint of Guinness.
The most bizarre place to drink in the world must be Wallis bar and funeral parlour (the funeral rooms being out back, out of sight) in Midleton.
Proprietor Seamus Cunningham agrees it is an unusual combination and told me: 'Sure, everyone comes through our door eventually. We always say: "We're the last people to let you down."'
When the undertaker, Jerry, arrived for his pint, a bystander nudged me and warned: 'Watch him. He'll be sizing you up.'
Having decided to discover east Cork, I found the lovely Bay View Hotel perched above the harbour in the fishing village of Ballycotton.
There's a spectacular cliff walk rising 200ft above sea level, and soaring flocks of chough and hunting peregrines make this one of Europe's famous bird-watching sites, and every evening lines of silent sea anglers are silhouetted against the sun.
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| | | | Heaven for walkers
But I'm not talking as a landlord when I say Beara is one of Ireland's last great 'undiscovered' peninsulas.
Most tourists get as far as Glengarriff, as part of the Ring of Kerry, but few venture on to Adrigole and Castletownbere. Eyeries is 80 miles from Cork Airport, but what riches the tourists are missing!
As you'd expect, Beara and the surrounding area - Bear Island and Dursey Island, respectively just a ferry and cable car ride away - is heaven for walkers, from those who desire a gentle stroll, to the most serious hill walker.
But Castletownbere, a 10-minute drive from Eyeries, is one of the busiest fishing ports in Ireland, a thriving little town, and the area is well up to the modern tourist's needs.
Unsurprisingly, there are ample opportunities for shore fishing and sea fishing, but there's also a nine-hole golf course at Castletownbere and others, including an 18-holer at Bantry, a reasonable drive away.
Within a 20-minute drive you can learn to sail or snorkel at the West Cork Sailing Centre in Adrigole, hire horses and learn to ride courtesy of Eamonn Harrington at Dunboy Riding Stables, or visit the beautiful Derreen Gardens in Lauragh from April to October.
And of course there's Irish history. Local lore has it that the ruined Dunboy Castle was the inspiration for Daphne du Maurier's Manderley (she also wrote Hungry Hill, which is certainly based locally).
The castle was originally home of the great O'Sullivan Bere clan, rebuilt by the 19th Century owners of copper mines in Allihies and burned down during Ireland's struggle for independence.
On a more peaceful note there is a beautiful Buddhist retreat house called Dzogchen Beara with various courses and meditation classes.
If you prefer to meditate over a glass of stout and a meal in Castletownbere, you're in the place where it's an art form.
Heaven for walkers
But I'm not talking as a landlord when I say Beara is one of Ireland's last great 'undiscovered' peninsulas.
Most tourists get as far as Glengarriff, as part of the Ring of Kerry, but few venture on to Adrigole and Castletownbere. Eyeries is 80 miles from Cork Airport, but what riches the tourists are missing!
As you'd expect, Beara and the surrounding area - Bear Island and Dursey Island, respectively just a ferry and cable car ride away - is heaven for walkers, from those who desire a gentle stroll, to the most serious hill walker.
But Castletownbere, a 10-minute drive from Eyeries, is one of the busiest fishing ports in Ireland, a thriving little town, and the area is well up to the modern tourist's needs.
Unsurprisingly, there are ample opportunities for shore fishing and sea fishing, but there's also a nine-hole golf course at Castletownbere and others, including an 18-holer at Bantry, a reasonable drive away.
Within a 20-minute drive you can learn to sail or snorkel at the West Cork Sailing Centre in Adrigole, hire horses and learn to ride courtesy of Eamonn Harrington at Dunboy Riding Stables, or visit the beautiful Derreen Gardens in Lauragh from April to October.
And of course there's Irish history. Local lore has it that the ruined Dunboy Castle was the inspiration for Daphne du Maurier's Manderley (she also wrote Hungry Hill, which is certainly based locally).
The castle was originally home of the great O'Sullivan Bere clan, rebuilt by the 19th Century owners of copper mines in Allihies and burned down during Ireland's struggle for independence.
On a more peaceful note there is a beautiful Buddhist retreat house called Dzogchen Beara with various courses and meditation classes.
If you prefer to meditate over a glass of stout and a meal in Castletownbere, you're in the place where it's an art form.
Vichy shower and the hydrojet
VICHY SHOWER
Her: I'm lying on my tummy, my face in a soggy bit of cloth. And it starts raining, hard, warm and relentless.
Suddenly there are cool, soft hands on my back, pressing and stroking.
It is an extraordinary massage what with the rain, the noise, the lack of chat, the slippery smoothness, the touch out of nowhere. Then I'm left alone again.
Salt water is stinging me slightly, wrinkling my lips. I feel warm, tingly and molten-limbed.
Him: It feels like a drizzle of warm hailstones. My bum, not normally caressed like this, goes bright pink.
Seawater dribbles into my mouth. I emerge with a marshmallow patina, pink and white. Tessa doesn't find it attractive.
HYDROJET
Her: I'm standing at one end of a white-tiled room, clutching a metal rail and gritting my teeth while a hose with the power of an Exocet is fired at me by a girl who doesn't look entirely confident with the control system.
The jet sears up the back of one leg, ripping a path through cellulite.
When my knotted shoulders are battered into submission, I'm asked to turn round. As she aims the hose at my tummy I scream. This is not fun, it's masochism.
Him: I'm aware that in certain cultures, this is known as water torture.
Where will they aim? My wimpish girlfriend found it painful. I'm relishing the challenge and can imagine a terrific photo.
'We're very sorry,' the therapist tells me. 'We're having some problems with the hydrojet. It's broken.'
Had Keith Wood got to the hose first? Had his head won?
Vichy shower and the hydrojet
VICHY SHOWER
Her: I'm lying on my tummy, my face in a soggy bit of cloth. And it starts raining, hard, warm and relentless.
Suddenly there are cool, soft hands on my back, pressing and stroking.
It is an extraordinary massage what with the rain, the noise, the lack of chat, the slippery smoothness, the touch out of nowhere. Then I'm left alone again.
Salt water is stinging me slightly, wrinkling my lips. I feel warm, tingly and molten-limbed.
Him: It feels like a drizzle of warm hailstones. My bum, not normally caressed like this, goes bright pink.
Seawater dribbles into my mouth. I emerge with a marshmallow patina, pink and white. Tessa doesn't find it attractive.
HYDROJET
Her: I'm standing at one end of a white-tiled room, clutching a metal rail and gritting my teeth while a hose with the power of an Exocet is fired at me by a girl who doesn't look entirely confident with the control system.
The jet sears up the back of one leg, ripping a path through cellulite.
When my knotted shoulders are battered into submission, I'm asked to turn round. As she aims the hose at my tummy I scream. This is not fun, it's masochism.
Him: I'm aware that in certain cultures, this is known as water torture.
Where will they aim? My wimpish girlfriend found it painful. I'm relishing the challenge and can imagine a terrific photo.
'We're very sorry,' the therapist tells me. 'We're having some problems with the hydrojet. It's broken.'
Had Keith Wood got to the hose first? Had his head won?
The local legend
Further along the coast is Cobh (pronounced cove). Too timid to tackle Cork's racetrack roads I hired a taxi. Jim Halligan turned up, uniformed and driving a stretch limo.
I felt a bit daft climbing in wearing hiking boots and rucksack, but off we sped. What Jim doesn't know about historic Cobh wouldn't cover a shamrock leaf.
At his suggestion I took the Titanic Trail. Michael Martin, trail leader, explained how Cobh was the doomed Titanic's final port of call.
It was also near here that the Lusitania was torpedoed in 1915. The vast and elaborate Angel of Peace memorial commemorates the 1,198 people lost, and gives thanks for the 761 survivors who were ferried to Cobh by exhausted boatmen.
Cobh, as Michael revealed, was also 'the Heathrow Airport of yesteryear' with three million Irish emigrants leaving the dock for a new life. Locals call it the dock of tears.
The emigrants' stories and details of the sinking of the Lusitania are explained in a multimedia exhibition at the restored Victorian railway station.
On the quay I got chatting to local legend, Vincent Keaney.
Once on the dole and heading nowhere fast, he won a million pounds on the Irish Lotto.
He bought the dockside dole office which just happened to be the historic Star Line embarkation building, moved out the staff and has turned it into a replica of the Titanic's Veranda deck and dining saloon.
No expense has been spared - silk wallpaper, crystal chandeliers, oak panelling, brass plant pots - and not a picture of Kate Winslet in sight.
Opening shortly, with Erin's Lament to be played on the bagpipes as it was played by a steerage passenger when the Titanic weighed anchor here in 1912 - this luxury diner is not to be missed.
To enter you tramp across the same historic planks of pier where the emigrants and Titanic passengers walked.
And if you feel like being cheered up after so much tragic history, Jim Halligan assures me that the Roaring Donkey in Cobh is a place to go. And it roars extra loudly on a Wednesday night.
TRAVEL DETAILS:
Where to stay: In Cork - Hotel Isaacs. Tel: 00 353 21 450 0011. In Ballycotton: The Bay View Hotel. Tel: 00353 21 4646 746.
Ryanair flies from Stansted to Cork. Go to http://www.ryanair.com or call 08712 246 0000 to book.
The local legend
Further along the coast is Cobh (pronounced cove). Too timid to tackle Cork's racetrack roads I hired a taxi. Jim Halligan turned up, uniformed and driving a stretch limo.
I felt a bit daft climbing in wearing hiking boots and rucksack, but off we sped. What Jim doesn't know about historic Cobh wouldn't cover a shamrock leaf.
At his suggestion I took the Titanic Trail. Michael Martin, trail leader, explained how Cobh was the doomed Titanic's final port of call.
It was also near here that the Lusitania was torpedoed in 1915. The vast and elaborate Angel of Peace memorial commemorates the 1,198 people lost, and gives thanks for the 761 survivors who were ferried to Cobh by exhausted boatmen.
Cobh, as Michael revealed, was also 'the Heathrow Airport of yesteryear' with three million Irish emigrants leaving the dock for a new life. Locals call it the dock of tears.
The emigrants' stories and details of the sinking of the Lusitania are explained in a multimedia exhibition at the restored Victorian railway station.
On the quay I got chatting to local legend, Vincent Keaney.
Once on the dole and heading nowhere fast, he won a million pounds on the Irish Lotto.
He bought the dockside dole office which just happened to be the historic Star Line embarkation building, moved out the staff and has turned it into a replica of the Titanic's Veranda deck and dining saloon.
No expense has been spared - silk wallpaper, crystal chandeliers, oak panelling, brass plant pots - and not a picture of Kate Winslet in sight.
Opening shortly, with Erin's Lament to be played on the bagpipes as it was played by a steerage passenger when the Titanic weighed anchor here in 1912 - this luxury diner is not to be missed.
To enter you tramp across the same historic planks of pier where the emigrants and Titanic passengers walked.
And if you feel like being cheered up after so much tragic history, Jim Halligan assures me that the Roaring Donkey in Cobh is a place to go. And it roars extra loudly on a Wednesday night.
TRAVEL DETAILS:
Where to stay: In Cork - Hotel Isaacs. Tel: 00 353 21 450 0011. In Ballycotton: The Bay View Hotel. Tel: 00353 21 4646 746.
Ryanair flies from Stansted to Cork. Go to www.ryanair.com or call 08712 246 0000 to book.
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| | | | Half grocery shop, half bar
Take your pick from pubs like the Beara Bar, Harrington's, O'Sullivan's, Breen's Lobster bar (doesn't serve lobsters, of course) The Usual, The Hole In The Wall...The Central...O'Donaghue's...
Eat in town from cheap to expensive at The Old Bakery to The Mariner, or at restaurants within a few minutes' drive like Inches and Mullins Bar in Ardgroom - book both in advance.
I love the Irish arrangement of MacCarthys. Adrienne MacCarthy runs the eponymous establishment in the Square - half grocery shop, half bar, with a cosy snug for romantic trysts.
You can have a pint there after ordering excellent seafood or steaks from Niki's cafe, run by Adrienne's sister two doors away. Somebody will come and get you when your meal is ready.
As regards Eyeries itself, well what can I say? My heart still thumps every time I come back and catch sight of it perched on the hill overlooking Coulagh Bay.
I can say that I love the Post Office, run by Joan and Mary. Fresh milk, delicious bread and scones, and startling brown free-range eggs from the hens running around the village, as well as warm and friendly advice and information.
I love the three pubs, O'Neills, O'Sheas and Causkey's, with its set dancing at weekends, the little supermarket, Evie Murphy's coffee, great cakes and sandwiches in the summertime, Donie Houlihan who keeps me up to date with all the gossip while plying me with the Sunday papers.
I love the way everybody says hello to everybody else. I love the way all drivers salute others they pass on the road by raising an index finger.
I love the village cock, which has the good manners to crow only between about 3 and 4.30 in the afternoon.
I love the peace and the quiet and the people. And the sunsets I'll remember for the rest of my life.
TRAVEL DETAILS:
Flights: Aer Lingus, (call 0845 084 4444), and BA (call 0845 7733377), fly to Cork from Heathrow, Birmingham,Glasgow and Manchester.
Ferries:Swansea-Cork Ferries, (call 01792 456116) or Stena Line (call 0870 727 0444).
Car hire: Holiday Autos from Cork Airport (0870 400 0010 or visit http://www.holidayautos.co.uk)
Further information: http://www.bearinfo.com
The Pink House:email thepinkhouse@dermotcrowley.com. Or try the Formanes HouseB&B - contact Rosarie O'Neill on +00353 27 74360.
Half grocery shop, half bar
Take your pick from pubs like the Beara Bar, Harrington's, O'Sullivan's, Breen's Lobster bar (doesn't serve lobsters, of course) The Usual, The Hole In The Wall...The Central...O'Donaghue's...
Eat in town from cheap to expensive at The Old Bakery to The Mariner, or at restaurants within a few minutes' drive like Inches and Mullins Bar in Ardgroom - book both in advance.
I love the Irish arrangement of MacCarthys. Adrienne MacCarthy runs the eponymous establishment in the Square - half grocery shop, half bar, with a cosy snug for romantic trysts.
You can have a pint there after ordering excellent seafood or steaks from Niki's cafe, run by Adrienne's sister two doors away. Somebody will come and get you when your meal is ready.
As regards Eyeries itself, well what can I say? My heart still thumps every time I come back and catch sight of it perched on the hill overlooking Coulagh Bay.
I can say that I love the Post Office, run by Joan and Mary. Fresh milk, delicious bread and scones, and startling brown free-range eggs from the hens running around the village, as well as warm and friendly advice and information.
I love the three pubs, O'Neills, O'Sheas and Causkey's, with its set dancing at weekends, the little supermarket, Evie Murphy's coffee, great cakes and sandwiches in the summertime, Donie Houlihan who keeps me up to date with all the gossip while plying me with the Sunday papers.
I love the way everybody says hello to everybody else. I love the way all drivers salute others they pass on the road by raising an index finger.
I love the village cock, which has the good manners to crow only between about 3 and 4.30 in the afternoon.
I love the peace and the quiet and the people. And the sunsets I'll remember for the rest of my life.
TRAVEL DETAILS:
Flights: Aer Lingus, (call 0845 084 4444), and BA (call 0845 7733377), fly to Cork from Heathrow, Birmingham,Glasgow and Manchester.
Ferries:Swansea-Cork Ferries, (call 01792 456116) or Stena Line (call 0870 727 0444).
Car hire: Holiday Autos from Cork Airport (0870 400 0010 or visit www.holidayautos.co.uk)
Further information: www.bearinfo.com
The Pink House:email thepinkhouse@dermotcrowley.com. Or try the Formanes HouseB&B - contact Rosarie O'Neill on +00353 27 74360.
The verdict
VERDICT
Her: Dr Jost was right: it worked. I came away with velvet skin, luminous face and a pleasingly pliable boyfriend.
Incheydoney wins for its boyfriendly lack of pretension - and ravishing setting.
Him: Being squirted up and around nearly every orifice was surprisingly restful and reinvigorating. Just ease up on the salt...
TRAVEL DETAILS:
Two nights' 'Spa Indulgence' package at the Lodge & Spa at Inchydoney Island from £505, including return flights from Heathrow, transfers, half-board (excellent organic restaurant). Thalassotherapy pool and six treatments free. Other activities at extra cost include golf, cycling, fishing and riding.
Details through Thermalia Travel (http://www.thermalia.co.uk tel: 0207 483 1898).
Car hire with Holiday Autos (http://www.holidayautos.ie tel: 0870 400 0010)
The verdict
VERDICT
Her: Dr Jost was right: it worked. I came away with velvet skin, luminous face and a pleasingly pliable boyfriend.
Incheydoney wins for its boyfriendly lack of pretension - and ravishing setting.
Him: Being squirted up and around nearly every orifice was surprisingly restful and reinvigorating. Just ease up on the salt...
TRAVEL DETAILS:
Two nights' 'Spa Indulgence' package at the Lodge & Spa at Inchydoney Island from £505, including return flights from Heathrow, transfers, half-board (excellent organic restaurant). Thalassotherapy pool and six treatments free. Other activities at extra cost include golf, cycling, fishing and riding.
Details through Thermalia Travel (www.thermalia.co.uk tel: 0207 483 1898).
Car hire with Holiday Autos (www.holidayautos.ie tel: 0870 400 0010)
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| | Available rental properties in County Cork |
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| |  | | 3 Clifton
Simply amazing views from a stunning, newly refurbished, Victorian Townhouse in the most exclusive area of Youghal.
|  | | Arnott's traditional labourer's cottage
This lovely labourer's cottage near Youghal includes an acre to play in! Tony our caretaker will welcome you and point you to all the best places.
|  | | Ferrypoint Cottage, Youghal
Seaside Cottage, with stunning views on 3 sides, across to Youghal, out to sea and up the river. Luxury fittings and decor, perfect for a couple.
|  | | Ferrypoint House, Youghal
Seaside Cottage, with stunning views on 3 sides, across to Youghal, out to sea and up the river. Luxury fittings and decor, perfect for a Family
|  | | The Moorings
This beautiful five bedroomed house, with its large gardens and stunnings sea views is ideal for a family holiday or short lets.
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Holiday Rentals in County Cork |
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