National Geographic : 1961 Mar
miles long and 4 miles wide. The world's larg est ships could anchor here in safety. Then on to Kenmare, where I ate sand wiches in an old hotel whose walls were at least three feet thick. Through the kitchen door I watched three strapping country girls with their sleeves rolled up, bustling about amidst appetizing steams from an old-fash ioned coal range. It was like a sketch by Thomas Rowlandson. I plodded up Windy Gap in second gear and stopped enchanted at Lady's View, with the Lakes of Killarney spread out below, flanked by the 3,000-foot mountains of Mac gillycuddy's Reeks. It was a sunny, windy day with plenty of high gold cloud, and Up per Lake was cobalt blue. While drinking in the beauty, I heard a frantic klaxon of a car, and I thought that someone was nervous. The horn came near- er, then a shining Cadillac nosed round the corner and stopped. A man got out. "That sure is a dandy view!" he said. We laughed and shook hands. He was the American lawyer I had met at breakfast as the boat came up the Liffey. "You were dead right about a big car on these roads," he laughed. "Still, I've come through unscathed-so far!" I dipped down to Killarney along lanes embanked by stone walls turned velvet with moss and ferns. Trees arched overhead and sunlight glinted upon hedges of fuchsia and six-foot-high foxgloves. Here I saw Ireland's unique horse-drawn jaunting cars-often called sidecars-bowl ing along the roads, the passengers facing outward while the drivers cracked their whips (opposite). The little town, its shopwindows full of KODACHROMESBY NATIONALGEOGRAPHICPHOTOGRAPHERSVOLKMARWENTZEL (BELOW) AND ROBERTF. SISSON © N.G .S .