The Day I Drove On The Ocean Floor, Stumbled Upon A Giants’ Convention, And Disappeared Off The Face Of The Earth (Part 3)

Travelling is one of those activities that has the potential to either draw people together or tear them asunder. Exploring foreign lands, sleeping in strange quarters, and contending with anxiety-inducing travel connections can bring out those carefully managed foibles that most of us keep well hidden from public view. 

So, when you travel with companions, it’s important to choose ones that have the same sense of adventure and devil-may-care attitude – or lack thereof – as you do, in an effort to reduce the chances of friction.

I am generally a very methodical and organised traveller, one of those annoying ones that likes to turn up two hours before the train departs, sticks to pre-planned routes, and takes a thousand pictures of the same scene. I like to have a clear and defined itinerary, which outlines what I might expect from the day ahead; a kind of insurance against mishaps.

But something strange happened to me on my tour of Ireland some ten years ago, and particularly on the day I drove the Ring of Kerry. 

Accompanied by two of the best travel buddies a girl could wish for – Ka, the gutsy two door hatchback, and Betty, the all-knowing GPS – I was moved by some mischievous and foreign force to fly by the seat of my pants, go off the beaten track, throw caution to the wind and all those other adventure-laden idioms. 

Setting Betty to get me from point A to point B in short runs, I took every opportunity to deviate off-course or make unscheduled stops, discovering delightful hamlets or breathtaking vistas. It was in this manner that I ventured onto Valentia Island.

The weather that day was lunatic, shifting from cold, dark, wet mist to stunning sunshine and brilliant blue skies, and back again over the course of an hour. Rather than dampen my mood for adventure, the weather only enhanced it by adding an element of mystique to an already enchanting place.

For a small island only eleven kilometres long by three kilometres wide, Valentia packs in a load of curiosities. Being on the south-western edge of Ireland, Valentia is exposed to the brunt of the North Atlantic Ocean and its accompanying wild weather. For most of my tour of this island, I faced inclement conditions; and it was thrilling!

On my way to locating one of the many attractions, the 5th century well of St Brendan the Navigator, the patron saint of sailors and travellers – a must-see destination for all adventurers, apparently – I found myself inching my way down a narrow, gravelly road, bordered by deep ditches, in the middle of a boggy marshland. The rain and mist were heavy around me. No other living soul was visible. 

To this point a loyal guide and companion, Betty began to waver. With no coordinates in her system to pinpoint where on Earth we were, she gently suggested we turn around and head back. But Ka and I kept moving forward ever so slowly as the mist continued to descend. Betty became more and more adamant.

“At the next opportunity, turn back.” 

Where was her sense of adventure?!

It was the only time on the entire trip that the three of us weren’t unanimous in our travel decisions.

Before long all signs of civilisation dissolved around me, and Betty’s small display showed nothing but empty greyness – no roads or landmarks. We were in the middle of nowhere; the mist had shrouded us completely. It appeared we had disappeared off the face of the Earth. No one knew where we were. 

Betty fell desperately silent, a captive of my determination to reach the well. Ka, however, pushed valiantly forward, high beams blaring, and wipers whipping. We continued on in silence for hundreds of metres. I admit I was more than a little nervous, albeit resolved to reach our destination. Perhaps it was the spirit of the monastic saint Brendan that guided us, but slowly something began to solidify through the mist. It was the well!   

As I pulled up beside it, I felt triumph and relief. At that moment the mist lifted and we found ourselves surrounded by a desolate but very real landscape.

And just like that, we were back on Terra Firma.