Planning your first trip to Ireland? Leave room for the wrong turns

Somewhere above the water in West Cork there is a tall round tower with shoes outside the door, and Beckie Striegler got close enough to the handle to learn what that means. What followed was a getaway thwarted by roughly fifty cows and an afternoon that turned into her favorite kind of Irish travel story.

Somewhere in Ireland, someone lives in a beautiful round tower overlooking the water. If they happened to notice a woman approach their door one evening, reach for the handle, and then flee toward a waiting car, I can explain.

I thought your home was a tourist attraction. It was an honest mistake, although the shoes by the door should have been my first clue.

My husband, Gene, and I had set aside a day for one of our favorite kinds of Irish adventures: driving around without much of a plan. Our mission was to see how many castles we could visit before returning to our beloved Tilly’s Cottage (located in the charming little village of Durrus, West Cork) that evening.

We preferred the ruins to the restored castles. There is something about an old stone wall standing open to the sky that invites you to linger. You find yourself wondering who lived there, what they saw through those windows, and how something that once seemed so permanent became a place where the weather comes and goes freely.

Our research method was considerably less romantic. We opened the maps app, typed “castles near me,” and set off. By late afternoon, we had visited perhaps five or six castles in various stages of ruin. Then we spotted what would become our final stop: a tall, round tower standing on a bluff above the water. I cannot remember whether it overlooked the Atlantic or a bay. I remember the view, though, and the fading light that made us hurry. We wanted one last look before sunset, then a quiet evening back at the cottage.

Unlike the other places we had visited, this tower appeared intact. I wondered whether it was the surviving part of a much older castle, with everything around it long gone. That was my theory. After what happened next, I never researched it.

As we drew closer, we noticed a small light in a window near the top. There was another light over the door. How interesting, we thought. Electricity! Perhaps someone had restored the tower and opened it to visitors. Since it was getting late, we wondered whether it might already be closed. I volunteered to check the door.

This is where enthusiasm began outrunning common sense.

There were several pairs of shoes near the entrance. Rather than recognizing the fairly obvious signs of a home, I wondered why people would need to remove their shoes to tour a castle. Still, shoes meant people were inside. In my optimistic interpretation, that meant we had arrived during opening hours.

As I approached the heavy wooden door, another detail finally registered: there was no actual parking lot. That seemed odd for a tourist destination. I reached for the lever anyway. It moved. Just as I was about to pull the door open, Gene called from the car, saying that he thought someone was living there.

Everything clicked at once. The lights. The shoes. The absence of a parking lot. Of course, someone lived there! I released the handle, hurried back to the car, and delivered instructions with all the composure of a woman who had nearly walked into a stranger’s living room.

“GET OUT OF HERE! WE ARE TRESPASSING!”

We drove down the hill as quickly and safely as we could. Being from Texas, where wandering onto someone else’s property can be taken rather seriously, we were imagining a much worse reception than we had any evidence to expect. 

Nobody had confronted us. Nobody had even appeared. Nevertheless, we were making our escape! There was one small intersection ahead. Once we passed it, we would reach a larger road and, in our minds, safety.

Then a farmer, his wife, and roughly thirty to fifty dairy cows began crossing the road. Our getaway had acquired an audience with absolutely no interest in our urgency. If you spend enough time driving around Ireland, you may find yourself waiting for livestock. Your schedule does not move the animals any faster. Neither, apparently, does your fear that an offended tower resident might be coming down the lane behind you. I watched the cows cross and imagined clubs and pitchforks.

Nobody followed us. The wait felt like an hour. It was probably less than five minutes. Eventually, the last cow passed, the road cleared, and we returned to Tilly’s Cottage with a story considerably better than the castle photographs we had hoped to take. It also left us with a few lessons worth sharing.

First, a place appearing on a map is not an invitation to enter it. Before setting off toward a castle or ruin, check whether visitors are welcome, where access is permitted, and whether there are opening hours or admission arrangements.

Second, pay attention when you arrive. Lights, shoes, parked vehicles, and other everyday signs may tell you far more than the name on your phone screen. If you are uncertain whether a building is someone’s home, leave the door handle alone.

I offer that last suggestion with experience...Third, leave enough time to make sensible decisions. We were racing the sunset, and our desire to squeeze in one more stop helped us overlook what was right in front of us.

But I would still encourage visitors to leave room for an unplanned day. Some of my favorite memories of Ireland began with a loose idea rather than a carefully arranged itinerary. A day spent following our curiosity gave us old ruins, beautiful water views, and an encounter with cows that remains much funnier in retrospect.

Planning helps you travel respectfully. Flexibility gives you time to notice what you came to see. You can have both. Check access before you go, allow more time than you think you need, and resist the temptation to make every stop a race toward the next one.

And if you discover a lovely tower overlooking the sea, admire it. Take a photograph from somewhere you are permitted to stand. But if there are shoes outside the door, consider the possibility that somebody is home...and may appreciate remaining undisturbed.

* Beckie Striegler is a Texas-based REALTOR® and author of Finding Home An Ocean Away, a travel memoir about her experiences in Ireland. Her writing explores the unexpected adventures and growing sense of connection that kept drawing her back. Here book, "Finding Home An Ocean Away" is available on Amazon.