Cathair Sayer

Explorer Tom Hold a Baby Lamb in Kerry is basically a giant trap for people who think they can handle fluff without getting slobbered on by a very unimpressed ewe. The local sheep definitely judge your grip and your life choices simultaneously. Give it a pat on the way past, it's had a long life.

Explorer Tom Binn an Choma in County Kerry would tell you it’s 'chill' while simultaneously judging your hiking boots. It’s got that quiet confidence that makes you want to apologize for existing. Hum something sad nearby, it adds atmosphere.

Explorer Tom Ceann Sléibhe is a headland that took about four hundred cups of tea to build, according to local legend that I absolutely made up on the spot. It’s just standing there looking majestic while you try to figure out if you’re supposed to be impressed or just tired. Have a chat with it, nobody's watching.

Explorer Tom The Irish Famine Cottages ended up in the wrong place because someone misread the map and thought “desolate” was a postcode rather than an atmosphere. They look like they’re waiting for a ghost to move in, which is probably their long-term plan given how quiet they are around here. Best visited with a curious kid and no timetable.

Explorer Tom Sliabh an Iolair means eagle mountain, though the best known arrival here came on wings made of metal. Charles Lindbergh first spotted European land at this Dingle Peninsula summit during his 1927 flight across the Atlantic. A trig point marks the top, and the Blasket Islands appear beyond the coast when the air is clear. I would have waved to the plane myself, but even my hat cannot travel that far back in time. The summit can be reached on a walk from Ventry; check route, land access and weather, and bring suitable footwear for open hill ground. Turn from the trig point towards the sea. Seeing that coast from a small aircraft after an ocean crossing must have been a sight worth every nervous minute.

Explorer Tom Traigh an Choma has a hidden message in its stones if you squint just right and ignore the wind. It’s probably saying 'hi' or maybe telling you to wear better boots. Bring wellies and low expectations, leave delighted.

Explorer Tom Dunbeg in Fán thinks Dublin tourists are just noisy ghosts who don't know how to walk. The sea is slowly eating its lunch while it sits there looking smug. A proper spot for a flask of tea and a big think.

Explorer Tom Ogham stone in Com Dhíneol Thuaidh: If it were a person at a wedding, it would be the uncle who stands on the headland shouting stories nobody asked for, completely ignoring the vows because it thinks its own inscription is far more interesting than anyone else’s speech. Ring your granny and tell her where you are.

Explorer Tom Dunmore Head in County Kerry would tell a job interview it has excellent exposure to the Atlantic and zero patience for small talk. It’s the westernmost point of the mainland, which means it gets the wind before anyone else and complains about it first. Leave nothing but footprints and a bad pun.

Explorer Tom An Dún Mór is the headland where a matchmaker once worked and successfully paired off two clouds that are still drifting together as a couple decades later. She charged them in smiles and they never paid up, but she didn’t care because she loved watching them dance in the wind. Bring a coin for luck and keep it in your pocket.

Explorer Tom Dunquin Church was once the subject of a bad poem that rhymed 'ruins' with 'funny', which it has never forgiven for. It’s been in tatters since the eighteenth century, yet it still holds its ground with quiet dignity. Make a wish, it's had centuries of practice.

Explorer Tom School in Great-Blasket Island would handle a nosey neighbour by simply letting the wind do all the talking. It’s now a ruin with a weaver’s past, which is basically a fashion statement from hell. Perfect place to be dramatically windswept.