Irish Road Trip #3 - Limerick → Cork → Waterford → Kilkenny → Carlow → Dublin → Holyhead

Didn’t sleep much last night—around 11:30pm, a gang of lads decided the quiet Limerick street outside our Airbnb was the perfect place for an impromptu five-a-side match. Thumping footballs and echoing shouts bouncing off the tarmac well past midnight. Not ideal.

We hit the road groggy but determined. First stop: Cork—though we didn’t make it to the city centre. Instead, we found our way to The Lough, a big urban lake tucked into a residential area. What a spot!
We planned for a quick look, ended up staying a couple of hours. It was packed with birds—swans, ducks, geese, pigeons, and at least a dozen other feathered creatures I couldn’t identify. Some looked prehistoric.
Charlie had a blast watching them squabble and glide around. It was peaceful, in a slightly chaotic, honking kind of way.

From there, we cut across the country to Waterford, which turned out to be properly pretty. Compact, bright, and full of little winding streets and river views. Great spot for a mid-afternoon wander.

Next up: Kilkenny. And wow.
The castle looked like it had been airlifted out of a fantasy film—stone towers, grand lawns, and more pigeons (always pigeons).
As soon as we got close, Charlie grinned and shouted:

“Oh my God! They’ve killed Kenny!”
Absolutely nailed the reference. I nearly cried laughing. Definitely one of the day’s highlights.

As the sun began to drop, we made our final push up to Carlow, winding into the outbacks, down narrow lanes where phone signal feared to tread. Our final Airbnb host greeted us with a warm smile, handed over the keys, and that was that.

...We slept for twelve solid hours. Didn’t even stir. Not even if Kenny himself had come back (again).

And then came Thursday morning, and with it, the rain.
The weather we’d managed to outrun all week finally caught up with us—sheets of it, falling hard and fast across the Carlow countryside. No official storm name, but it felt like it deserved one. Let’s call it Charlie’s Curse.

We didn’t hang about. Packed up the car, zipped our coats tight, and hit the road. It was a 90-minute motorway blast up the M9, then the M7/N7 into Dublin, wipers screeching and Charlie navigating through steamed-up windows and crumpled road maps.

In the capital, we dropped the hire car with all the subtlety of a getaway crew in GTA

“Ditch it and go!” Charlie shouted, half-laughing as we legged it toward the city centre.
Somewhere between chaos and catharsis.

With a few hours to kill before the ferry, we explored Dublin—Grafton Street, lively as ever with its mosaic of buskers and shoppers; stood by and looked dizzyingly up at the Spire. Had a wander through Temple Bar, cobbles slick with rain but spirits high. Dublin’s got that energy that doesn’t pause for weather or reason.

We ducked into a pub—classic Irish wood panelling, gold trim, a fireplace in the corner and red-faced drunks at the bar saying 'Feck' a lot. It was here that Charlie, always the opportunist, covertly sampled Guinness for the first time.
His verdict?

“It’s like fizzy gravy.”
Not quite a fan. But a rite of passage all the same.

Eventually, we made our way to the port for the 2:45pm ferry. The rain softened to a drizzle as we boarded, the boat rumbling to life beneath us. Ireland slowly faded from view—green hills blurring into sea mist.

It felt fitting.
A week of stories, diversions, birds, castles, and barely working wipers.

We left the Emerald Isle behind and cruised back toward the green green grass of home.

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Final thoughts?
A cracking trip.
We may have zigzagged half the country, missed a few turns, and paid far too much for pizza—but we also saw things we never expected and laughed every single day.

Charlie’s already planning the next one.
Can't wait

Irish Road Trip #2 - Maynooth → Naas → Midlands → Limerick

Woke up to a calm, quiet morning out in the countryside near Maynooth. Our Airbnb hosts, Austin and Mary, were pottering about again—and their deaf dog gave us a fond farewell nuzzle before we hit the road.

First stop: Naas, just a short drive south. We decided to treat ourselves to breakfast, which turned out to be ridiculously expensive (again). At this point, I’m starting to think Ireland has some sort of unspoken surcharge for eggs. But coffee was good, and it gave Charlie a chance to re-fold the map, which he’d taken very seriously since assuming his role as Chief Navigator.

From there, we started weaving our way across the drizzly Midlands, avoiding the motorways where possible, taking it slow and stopping whenever the mood struck. A proper road trip day.

We passed through Kildare, where we had a mooch near the historic cathedral. There’s something quite stately about the town—compact but full of little architectural details you’d miss if you blinked. Portlaoise was next—a bit more urban, with a lived-in feel. Not a postcard town, but full of energy and proper local life. Charlie got tooted at a couple of times in his Welsh football shirt! We didn’t hang around long, just enough for a snack and a stretch.

Then, a slightly longer drive brought us to O’Brien’s Bridge, which straddles the River Shannon on the border between Clare and Limerick. The bridge itself is old stone, stretching across the water with just enough wobble in the narrow lanes to make it exciting, we took a long walk along the riverside path I'm guessing the bridge was built by O'Brien...

Eventually we rolled into Limerick. First impressions? Honestly lovely. The sun was dipping a bit by the time we got there, and the city was glowing in that soft Irish light that makes everything look a little enchanted.

We wandered around town for a while, taking in the mix of Georgian buildings, river views, and that slightly scrappy charm that makes the place feel real—not polished, but full of character.

Our Airbnb for the night was a converted townhouse owned by Sinead—she was lovely, and the place had a relaxed, bohemian feel. After dropping our stuff, we took a short walk around the local streets, then headed back into Limerick proper for the evening.

Dinner was a budget classic: Tesco Meal Deal, eaten by the River Shannon.
Not fancy, but sitting on the riverside wall with Charlie, watching the water roll past and the city lights starting to flicker on—it was perfect in its own low-key way. Simple, quiet fun.

Charlie, in between bites of his sandwich, looked around and said:

“Ireland is like Wales… but with a better economy.”
Can’t argue with that, really.

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Tomorrow: Waterford (hopefully), and more of Charlie’s map-led mystery tour of the Irish countryside.

Irish Road Trip - Holyhead → Dublin → Maynooth-ish

 

And we're off.

After weeks of vague plans and even vaguer maps, the Ireland road trip officially began today.

We left the car parked back in Holyhead, strategically placed just far enough from the ferry terminal to dodge the savage parking charges. Already feeling clever.

The P&O ferry to Dublin was enormous — more shopping centre than ship — and Charlie was in his element. He tore around the decks with wide eyes, exploring everything like he was on a secret mission. We had an expensive dinner on board (standard ferry stuff — fine, but nothing to write home about unless you're writing a complaint).

After a smooth 3.5-hour crossing, we docked in Dublin Port, grabbed a bus into town, and made our way to pick up a hire car.
And then came the pain: €250.
I swear, at that price I thought I was buying the bloody thing. Still, we needed wheels. I handed over the dosh, cursing the fact I could've brought my own car for that money, and all its comforts.

Charlie climbed into the passenger seat, road map already unfolded.

Trip rule #1: No Google Maps.
Just us, an old-school road atlas, and Charlie playing Co-Pilot Navigator-in-Chief for the week. What could possibly go wrong?

Turns out, quite a bit.
Missed the turn for Maynooth on the M4 and ended up doing a lovely extended tour of the Dublin ring road — twice. Between me squinting at roundabouts and Charlie trying to make sense of junction numbers, it was a comedy of errors. Eventually, we made it out west.

Found our Airbnb a couple of miles outside Maynooth, tucked away in the countryside — very quaint, like stepping back in time. Our lovely hosts, Austin & Mary, greeted us warmly, showed us to our room, and introduced us to their deaf dog, who didn’t hear us coming but still gave us a good sniffing. The whole place had a calm, old-world feel to it. 

Once we’d settled in, we headed back into Maynooth and treated ourselves to a ridiculously overpriced Papa John’s. Hunger overrides shame. We then walked it off in the glorious evening sunshine, strolling the full length of Carlton Way. At some point on that walk, we passed a little stone boathouse by the water, tucked beside the golf course—part of the Carton House Estate, we later found out. It looked like something out of a storybook, sitting quietly in the reeds. Apparently, it was built for Queen Victoria in the 1800s. Just sitting there, quiet and forgotten, with little red rowboats docked inside. One of those places you don’t plan to see, but don’t forget either.

Knackered now, but happy. Despite a few wrong turns (literal and financial), we’re here. Tomorrow: westward, into the heart of Ireland.