The Kerry Cliffs are the sort of place that makes you stop talking. They rise about three hundred metres from the Atlantic, near the western tip of the Iveragh Peninsula, a wall of old red sandstone that drops almost vertically into the sea. Out beyond the edge, the Skellig rocks stand like two stone sails, Skellig Michael with its early monastery clinging to the summit, and its smaller companion crowded with seabirds. The Kerry Cliffs are a good place to see them without the crowds, with gannets, fulmars and choughs wheeling below.
A short walk from the car park leads along a path to a series of viewing platforms, and the wind here is a permanent part of the scenery. Keep back from the edge, because gusts can be fierce, the ground is soft after rain, and there are no safety walls.
Getting here is half the pleasure. Most tourists follow the famous Ring of Kerry in the same direction, with convoys of coaches in summer. The Skellig Ring is a quieter loop off the main road, through Portmagee and Ballinskelligs, with small, narrow and rolling roads along the coast, wide Atlantic views and often not another vehicle for miles. The surface is variable, with patched tarmac, a few tight bends and sheep on the road, so ride at a pace that lets you look. The wind and weather are changeable. A sunny morning can turn to driving rain in twenty minutes, and the light between showers is some of the best in Ireland. Midweek in May, June or September is best.
Portmagee is a small harbour village with pubs serving seafood and good coffee, and it is the departure point for boat trips to the Skelligs, weather permitting. Fill up before you come out here.
The landscape around is old, bare and green, and the weather arrives from America across the open sea. It is worth sitting still for a few minutes and watching the water change colour.