Sunday 4 June 2023--We are five minutes down the road this morning when I realize I've forgotten my camera. For a moment, I think about asking Bobby to turn back, but decide I can take photos with my cheap Android phone today. At least I'll have an excuse for lousy photos.

We're headed toward Castlegregory and a long sandy peninsula called Maharees. It's an interesting landscape of dune and beach, a tombolo, I gather, extending four miles northward to the twin headlands of Fahamore and Kilshannig. Between the two sits Candeehy Bay and its curving beach. There's a ruined church and burial ground at Kilshannig, and another of the cross slabs that Bobby has made t-shirts of.

We poke around a while, then head back south via the Caherconree Scenic Route. Our touring days seem to be getting shorter, which doesn't really bother any of us. On the way back to Dingle, we pass the long strand of Inch Beach, where I am amazed to see dozens of cars--a couple hundred, at least, I think--parked on the beach, the beachgoers who arrived in them scattered out along the water's edge. It's a bank holiday weekend, and a warm sunny Sunday, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised.

We're back in town midafternoon. Bobby takes us to O'Flaherty's, apparently one of his dozen favorite pubs in Dingle. Unusually, it has quite a large barroom, an open space meant for music performance. Nothing going on now, of course. We haven't actually heard much music since we've been here. We saw Bobby's friend, Teresa Horgan, playing with a band in one of the waterfront pubs, on one of our first evenings here; the following night at the Courthouse Pub, we saw her again, singing songs, accompanied by a guitarist. She's very good, but I'd like to have seen a session or two, with traditional tunes. We passed up a concert in the church on Green Street, which maybe we shouldn't have. There's music in many of the pubs in town, but I've been disappointed to hear pop music coming out of a lot of them--Eagles covers and the like. I've had this image of Ireland as a country full of traditional music, and I'm slightly disillusioned. One night, walking back to the guesthouse on Main Street, we heard the crowd in the Dingle Pub roaring along with "Sweet Caroline". The horror.