When I was planning my trip to Ireland, and researching walks in the Dingle peninsula, I came across an image on google of a beautiful little mountain lake in a steeply-sided valley.  After further research, I found that the lake was called Annascaul Lake and that it was located 4 km from the village of Annascaul.  I felt strongly drawn to that lake, and I showed the image to Brent, and later to my mom, and I said to each of them, “I am going to go to that lake, lie down on the road, look up at the sky, and give thanks to the universe for bringing me there.”  And that is what I did!

I woke up to rain and cloudly skies (I guess “red skies at night” doesn’t work here!), but it soon stopped raining and cleared up a bit, and the day would continue to alternate between periods of light rain, heavy rain, cloud, and a bit of sun.

After an exceptional breakfast at the Old Anchor Inn, I packed up a day pack, and was able to leave my big bag in the parlour at the Inn.  I headed down the street, past the South Pole Inn, and turned right up a country road.

There were wild flowers all along the road, including masses of small pink roses which made me think of my mother, Lise.

 

After about  3 km of steady walking, I was getting closer to the valley.

Then, after passing through the gates, the road descended down to the lake.  Here are the first views, from the side, then as I got closer, backwards towards Annascaul, and then towards the headwaters.

And this is the view that I fell in love with, though the view I had seen must have been from the Autumn as the colours had been gold and brown, instead of this summer green.  True to my promise, and with no-one there but me, I laid down on the road, looked up at the sky, and gave thanks to the universe for bringing me there.  I lay in shivasana for awhile, grateful and happy.

Then, of course, the road carried on so enticingly and the valley ahead beckoned, so of course I kept on walking.

 

The road started to climb, up alongside a waterfall…

with great views back towards the lake.

Soon the route began to zigzag up the hillside along an old track, built in the 1930s, but it was very boggy and wet and soon my feet were completely soaked.  It made me  more strongly aware and appreciative of how lucky I had been to have had such dry, sunny weather on my Wicklow Way walk!

There were streams and water everywhere, and then it really started to rain.

The saddle was so tatalizingly close, and every hiker wants to see the other side of the mountain, so I kept going up.  But, like a mirage, sometimes the summit recedes even as you get closer to it.  “Another 15 minutes, and then I’ll turn back.”  After I had said this three times, the summit seemed closer, but with no guarantee that the next 15 minutes would bring me there.  Finally, I turned back, conscious that I would need to descend carefully on the loose, slippery rocks, and that I had to allow enough time for the walk back in order to get my bus to Dingle.

Here are a last few images of the lake and valley on my descent.

As I arrived  beside the lake, there was an older couple, well into their sixties, heading out for a hike.  They were expertly kitted out, with skookum rain gear, gaiters, packs and poles.  They have hiked in this valley often and choose their own routes, sometimes up the steep valley sides, along gullies and up onto the cliffs.  We had a nice talk about hiking and route finding, and we wished each other well.  After they had headed off, I looked back and said another quiet and heartfelt “thank you” to the lake, and then I headed back down the country road, a little tired, a lot wet, and very very happy.