Where the Grass is Actually Greener: Ireland, A Campervan Trip Itinerary
Every one of us has heard the age old saying, “the grass isn’t always greener on the other side.”
And while that’s probably a true statement in most scenarios—this time we’re heading to a place where the grass is actually greener.
The coasts of Ireland
Our base itinerary:
Dublin
Rock of Cashel
Portmagee
Skellig Michael
Kerry Cliffs
Dingle
Muckross Abbey
Campervan Ireland
We rented a van through a local travel brand, Campervan Ireland. The team was kind enough to send a driver to meet us at the Dublin Airport with the van. The driver, Gerard, gave us a full tour of the van and showed us how to use all of the features inside.
This vehicle tour proved to be super helpful since this campervan was slightly different to some of the vans we’d traveled with in with the past.
Inside, it had everything we needed for the week ahead: a pop-top roof for standing room and extra sleeping space, a fold-down rear bed, a small kitchenette with a gas stovetop, and a fridge to keep groceries chilled.
There was plenty of built-in storage, an inverter to keep devices charged, and blacked-out curtains for privacy at night. It even came stocked with basic cooking utensils, dishware, and brand new bedding—which made settling in quick and painless.
We hop in the car, ready to take on the road ahead.
This will be our first time driving from the right side of the car, on the right side of the road. And let me tell you…
THIS FEELS WEIRD!
This will be our first time driving from the right side of the car, on the right side of the road.
Also, side note, the van has Apple Carplay - we were pretty stoked about that.
The Route
Starting the Trip
Today’s Itinerary:
Pickup the campervan
Explore Downtown Dublin
Visit Temple Bar
Rock of Cashel
Camp at Rossbeigh Beach Overlook
We started day 1 of our trip off by heading into downtown Dublin to explore and find a good lunch before heading west.
I have to admit, the initial drive from the airport straight into the capitol city of Dublin was definitely stressful considering all of the driving habits we’re used to in America are flipped. It doesn’t help that it’s raining.
Turns out driving here’s its own kind of adventure — we zig, we zag, probably miss a few obvious turns, but eventually drift our way into the downtown square.
As one might imagine, we’re starving after a 10 hours worth of flights from Indianapolis to Dublin.
Wired for adventure but yet to find the energy to match, we stumble into a little French restaurant called Chez Max.
The food was great and very reasonably priced. Definitely recommend.
Having finally found the energy to explore, we leave the restaurant and head around the corner to our first highlight stop:
The Temple Bar
String lights and huge flower bouquets drape the building’s facade.
That, mixed with the soft ambience of Irish music playing inside the bar, is a beautiful experience in person.
Lauren and I were both expecting this to be an oversold tourist trap but it lived up to the hype.
It’s worth taking an hour or two out of your trip to explore this area, if not longer. We both would have loved to spend more time in Dublin, and will certainly be back to do so on future trips.
We both would love to stop and have a beer here, but since we have a lot of driving to do, we keep it moving.
No trip to Ireland is complete without a few castle side quests. The first one on our itinerary is about a 2.5 hour drive from Dublin, and by the time we get there, I hope to have mastered the Ireland roadways.
Rock of Cashel
As we draw near to the city of Cashel, we finally get a glimpse of it.
Ancient rock rises ahead of us like a leftover set piece from a medieval film. Perched dramatically, just high enough above the town to feel sacred, but close enough that you can grab ice cream and still make your tour time.
We were really hoping to catch a few moments of good sunlight by the time we made it here, but we’re getting a sky that’s 50 shades of gray instead.
The walk up is short, but steep enough to make me second guess my shoe choice. Once we’re at the top, the wind hits with a sharp, mystical kind of cold. The kind that makes you feel like you’ve arrived some place with a lot of memory.
The roofless cathedral, the weathered carvings, the cemetery clinging to the edge of the hill — everything’s decaying in slow motion, but somehow still holding its shape. The ruins are somewhere between haunting and peaceful.
Time has sanded everything down.
The chapel’s open up to the sky.
Gravestones tilt like they’re listening.
It’s the type of place that everyone whispers, part out of respect... and part, in case they are.
You almost start to get why people thought this place had power. There’s a certain..weight here.
The gates are closing so we quietly make our way back to the van. Leaving Cashel in that late afternoon lull — not quite golden hour, not quite evening — just that soft gray light that seems to stretch forever in Ireland.
The roads narrow as we push west, trading castle ruins for rolling hills and farmland.
By the time we hit the coast, it’s pretty late. We wind up the dark, skinny road toward the Rossbeigh Beach Overlook with barely another car in sight.
We roll into a spot and fold back the van seats into a mattress. We’ll be camping here tonight.
Day 2
Todays Itinerary:
Wake up at Rossbeigh Beach Overlook
Drive to Portmagee
Boat Tour to Skellig Michael
Lunch at the Moorings
Kerry Cliffs
Drive to Dingle (Camp at the bridge house)
We wake up early that morning at the Rossbeigh Beach Overlook to a sky that’s still doing its moody coastal thing — soft light, low clouds, and that misty, salty air.
We make a quick stop off at Rossbeigh Strand to take in a few moments of peace by the ocean. We’re the only people there. We step out of the van, shoes still damp from yesterday, and the sound of wind off the Atlantic doing most of the talking. We don’t stay long, but it’s a good way to ease into the morning.
The drive to Portmagee is a steady unraveling of coastline. Narrow roads and green that doesn’t quit.
It’s tight, winding, occasionally feels like you’re driving off the earth. But the views are wild, consistently finding ways to make you look twice.
Portmagee sneaks up on us. A small colorful village, clinging to the edge of the map.
The kind of place that feels like it only exists because of boats.
A few rows of colorful houses, a small harbor, and the kind of quiet that makes you wonder how early is too early for Guinness.
Boat Tour to Skellig Michael
We check in for our 9am Skellig Landing tour with Valencia Island Sea Sports.
Cost: ~$260 total for 2 people
(NOTE: If you want to actually set foot on, and hike Skellig Michael, you must book the Skellig LANDING Cruise. The other tours will take you around the island but you won’t actually get to dock and hike it.)
We watch a quick safety brief video, sign the usual “you might fall off the island” waiver, and gear up.
The ride out to Skellig Michael is everything the waiver hinted at.
The Atlantic doesn’t care that we’re here or where we’re going. Spray soaks the jackets of the passengers sitting outside the boat’s cabin as the horizon tilts and re-centers. Everyone bouncing in sync — half grimacing, half laughing.
And then there it is. Skellig Michael — rising out of the mist like a fortress that never planned to be visited. Erupting from the sea, jagged and vertical.
The boat drifts in sideways toward a slick set of stone steps. Our guide catches the handrail with a rope, and we time our landing between swells.
The hike starts out manageable. We work our way uphill along a wide stone path that curves along the edge of the island. It's the kind of trail that tricks you into thinking this might not be so bad.
On our left, the sea seems to stretch forever.
Moss clings to the cliffs on our right.
The further up we get, we start to get our first glimpses of the puffins we were promised.
Along the trail, we see them clinging to cliffside ledges. Just sitting in the wind, unbothered. Little flashes of orange feet dart between the rocks above us.
The hike steepens as we reach the start of the stone switchbacks. There’s nothing to hang onto but the steps themselves, and the view keeps pulling your attention away from your footing.
Puffins divebomb across the trail, weaving past like they’ve got appointments.
They’re everywhere now. On the rocks, in the grass, in mid the air.
They pop out of their burrows along the grassy edges, tilting their heads at hikers as if they’re the island’s welcome committee.
This part of the trail really pulls us in. We hang back, watch the puffins float from ledge to ledge, and just let the views soak in.
The trail narrows again for the last push toward the summit. The path stops winding and cuts straight up through the rock. These steps are older and sharper. They feel less like a trail and more like a relic.
The stairs finally let up, and the path flattens into a wide stretch of exposed walkway. Little Skellig floats out in the distance, wrapped in a constant spiral of seabirds.
We sit with this view for a minute.
A lone puffin shares the trail with us.
We round a bend, and suddenly it’s there: the monastery. Beehive-shaped huts stacked tightly into the mountainside, worn smooth by wind and rain. Built by hands that understood this place better than most.
Tour groups cluster near the center of the monastery for history about monks, isolation, and survival. Half are listening, half are looking around. A few people nod like they get it. Most are still catching their breath.
Others wander off, staring into the ocean or running a hand along the stone.
We spend 20-30 minutes here, then eventually make our way back down to catch our ride back to shore.
The same 600 steps that brought us up now stretch back below us.
The steps feel steeper on the way back, and the wind hits harder in spots
We stop often to take pictures. Some of the puffins pose, others act camera shy.
One tries to sh*t on Lauren.
I take his side. She probably deserved it.
Back at the landing, the boat rocks against the steps, rope pulled tight to the railing. We board for the trip back, doing a wide loop around Little Skellig before heading in.
Skellig disappears into the haze behind us, Little Skellig shrinking alongside it.
After the morning’s boat adventure, we made our way to the Bridge Bar at The Moorings for lunch.
It’s warm inside, smells like fresh bread and butter, and every table feels like the best one.
I get a burger.
Lauren gets whatever this is.
Both were awesome. Arguably our best meal in Ireland!
We hop back in the van and head towards our next stop.
Kerry Cliffs
Cost: $10 per person
Next up were the Kerry Cliffs. A set of dramatic, jagged edges plunging into the ocean. A wild, untamed vibe only the west coast can offer.
From the lot, a short, steady incline led us up toward the overlooks. It’s a short, easy hike. Nothing compared to Skellig.
Of all the strange moments from this trip, few will live rent-free in my mind like the llama we met on the hike up to the Kerry Cliffs.
One of them kind of looked like Jack Harlow — not present day Jack, but like, SoundCloud Jack. Pre-Dua Lipa Jack Harlow.
Jack Harlow if he didn’t stick with rap and went soul searching in the Irish countryside instead.
At the top, the trail splits into 2 overlooks.
On the right, moody weather paints the cliffs in deep blues and grays, contrasting with the patches of bright green grass clinging to the rocks.
On the left, the coastline stretches out toward Skellig Michael.
The cliffs themselves are awesome, but the moody, jagged peaks surrounding them are stealing the show for me.
These cliffs didn’t need sunshine to be beautiful—if anything, the moody skies made them feel more alive. This place is absolutely worth the stop.
The Bridge House - Dingle
Cost to Camp: $30
After soaking in the views and getting wind-whipped on both sides of the cliffs, we loaded back into the van and hit the road toward Dingle.
We made it into Dingle around 9pm and roll into the Bridge House’s gravel lot, which doubles as a low-key camp spot for vans.
We park, pop the top, and settled in as the last light fades.
This is an especially awesome location to camp, if you’re wanting to experience some of the Dingle night life! It isn’t the most picturesque camp spot we’ve stayed at, but it does have accessible showers and cold beer close.
After hiking and getting rained on all day, a nice shower is worth the $30 overnight fee.
\Also a plus that your camping fee goes straight to charity!
Day 3
Todays Itinerary:
Wake up and drive to Clogher Head
Slea Head Drive Mishaps
Driving on the donut
Muckross Abbey
Sleep near airport and drop off
We woke up in Dingle to something we hadn’t seen in days: sun. Full sun. Not just a break in the clouds or a brief golden hour glow.
We packed up and headed straight toward Clogher Head following the coast as it opened up in all directions.
Clogher Head itself is wild and rugged, with a short walking trail that leads to a steep overlook. Clogher Beach is tucked just below in a dramatic little cove. We ended up spending a long time here, flying the drone and just watching the light change over the coastline.
Every angle felt like it belonged in a movie.
From above, the cliffs look even more dramatic. Turquoise water, with massive swells rolling in and crashing against the rocks.
The drone stays up in the air for a while, tracing the rigid coastline as entire rock stacks are engulfed in sea foam.
We spent over an hour filming here. Every shot felt better than the last. It was the kind of place that makes you forget about time. It feels like flying through a living postcard, chaotic and peaceful all at once.
It’s our last day in Ireland, so we’re in absolutely no rush today.
We hike around the coastline here for a few, then finish out with a quick breakfast in the van.
The views can’t be beat.
We continued on further down the coastal drive, eventually ending up on one of the most scenic bypass roads in the entire world, Slea Head Drive.
This drive wasn’t on our agenda. We just happened to stumble into it leaving Clogher Head and felt like we’d hit the jackpot.
Slea Head Drive
For the first 10 minutes or so, everything was perfect. No traffic. No stress, aside from the typical narrow roadway that we’ve come to expect from Ireland. Just one winding lane and amazing coastal views stretching endlessly to our right.
I mentioned earlier that we didn’t plan this drive, we stumbled onto it. Aaaaaaand… somewhere along the way we must have missed a sign telling us that this road is a one-way. Until we noticed… the first oncoming car.
The realization hit at the same time as the pothole.
Boom. Tire gone.
Lauren happened to be trying to record out the window when it happened.
Enjoy the watch.
We hear the hiss of the tire losing air as we coast to a stop in the middle of the narrow road with nowhere to pull off.
Cars and coach buses start to pile up in front of us.
We both hop out of the van in full “let’s fix it fast before anyone notices” mode. We thought it’d be an easy fix. We had a spare and we had the tools. But when we went to remove the flat, the lug nuts were stripped and the wrench wouldn’t catch.
So now, on top of blocking traffic, we had a tire that refused to come off and a full audience watching us fail.
We tried everything—kicking it, pleading with it, calling on higher powers.
At this point we’re both convinced that there can’t be a worse place in the world to be broken down.
Soon enough, we have a full Celtic congregation gathered around the van—locals, tourists, the mayor of Dingle coming to personally escort us off the island. (Not really, but that’s the way our luck was going at this point.)
Thankfully they are all insanely friendly, offering tools, help, and moral support.
Lauren jogged off to find service and call Gerard, our Campervan Ireland contact. To his credit, stayed calm and was extremely helpful in finding us a repair company to come bail us out of this jam.
Within minutes, he called back to let us know that Dingle Tyres & Tools was en-route to rescue us. Only catch: they were an hour out.
So we waited. With what had to have been atleast 20 to 30 strangers standing in a loose circle around us, watching us like an open mic night.
“How many people does it take to change a tire?”, one guy joked.
Just when we thought we’d maxed out the available crowd-sourced help, a man walked up holding a tiny 12v air compressor like it was Excalibur.
We’d try anything at this point. We plugged it into the dash, and started inflating what was left of the tire.
To our surprise, it actually worked.
Not enough to fix the problem, but just enough to get the van moving again. We limp backward maybe 30 yards to the nearest overlook pull-off, clearing the road and getting out of the way of the now biblical line of cars and buses behind us.
Thank you, higher powers.
The tire was still toast, the lug nuts still useless, but at least we weren’t blocking all of western Ireland anymore.
Cars honk as they drive past. People wave and applause as if they knew we’d just bombed our open mic set but didn’t want to pile on. Another guy nods like we’d passed some unspoken Irish survival test.
We’re still stranded, but looking over my shoulder towards the ocean now, I can’t imagine a better place in the world to be broken down.
About 25 minutes later, after we’d fully settled into our new identities as roadside attractions, we spotted a white van coming the wrong direction up Slea Head, just like we had.
Dingle Tyres & Tools, the side of the van reads. Turns out, it was the only way to reach us.
He told us he’d skipped two other service calls to come help.
“Heard about ye on Dingle traffic radio. Five-mile backup. Figured it was urgent.”
Apparently, we’d made the local news. Not quite the Irish fame we were hoping for.
He popped open the back, pulled out an impact wrench that could take down a tractor, and got right to it. I swear this guy could have been part of a Formula 1 pit crew.
As he worked, we mentioned we thought this was a one-way road.
He smirked
“It’s not officially one-way yet. But everyone here knows you’re supposed to drive it clockwise.”
Then he added, “They’re putting the sign up tomorrow. June 27th.”
We couldn’t believe it.
Our tire had blown on June 26th.
Of course it did. We later found an article to back this up.
So we weren’t wrong… but we weren’t right either. We’d gotten caught in a local rule that hadn’t been made law…yet.
It was the perfect punctuation mark on an already absurd situation.
In under ten minutes, he had the tire off, the spare on, and all was right on the western coast again.
Then he climbed back in, turned around, and disappeared, the right way this time, down Slea Head. I assume he’s off to answer the calls he skipped to come dig us out of that mess.
We follow him back out, quietly humbled by the fact that we had become radio-famous in rural Ireland.
Muckross Abbey
From Slea Head, we slowly made our way inland toward Killarney, sticking to the slow lane and praying the donut tire could hang on just a little longer. The winding coastal views gave way to thick forests and lakes as we entered Killarney National Park, our final detour before the long haul back to Dublin.
We pulled into the Muckross Abbey trailhead, laced up our shoes, and headed down a peaceful paved path that led past the abbey and out to the castle.
The walk was short. Maybe 15-20 minutes, but completely silent except for birds and the sound of our steps on the gravel. The trail opens up to reveal the castle ruins, half-sunken in ivy and totally still.
Suddenly you’re inside a roofless ruin with ancient tombstones and a 600-year-old tree growing straight out of the courtyard.
The courtyard is enclosed by stone-textured walls that act as a silhouette of history.
Cracked spiral staircases, stone archways and windows that open to nowhere.
This place feels untouched.
No ropes, no fences, just open to explore.
We hung around for about 40 minutes, grabbing photos, unwinding from the earlier mishaps, and just soaking up the quiet before the long drive back to Dublin.
We leave Muckross Abbey for one last stop to cap off our trip.
Torc Falls
Torc falls is located inside of Killarney National Park.
The trail to the falls is short and easy—a quick 5–10 minute walk through thick trees and damp mossy ground, following alongside a small stream of rushing water. After days of cliffs, castles, and chaos, it felt like exactly what we needed.
The falls themselves are a layered cascade, rushing down the mossy stone in wide, silky ribbons. Water crashes, twists, and slides over the rocks, disappearing into a quiet stream at the base.
This isn’t a stop you necessarily need to rework your itinerary around, or stretch to make fit. But if you’re in the area, it’s well worth the stop.
And That’s A Wrap
Ireland delivered, in every way possible.
From the untame coastlines and moody ruins to tiny harbor towns, it was an experience of a lifetime. Getting to venture it all by campervan was hands-down the best call we could’ve made.
We loved being able to cover so much ground in such short time.
Huge thanks to Campervan Ireland for setting us up with the van and helping us troubleshoot when things got chaotic (which, let’s be honest, made the story better anyway).
Their team was super easy to work with, always responsive, and genuinely made the whole process smoother — even when we were blocking half of Slea Head Drive.
For anyone thinking about doing a similar trip, here are a few quick takeaways:
Drive clockwise around around Slea Head Drive. Just trust us.
Pack for every type if weather. We had sun, fog, sideways rain, and 70º blue skies—all in the same day.
Don’t overschedule. Some of our favorite moments happened between the plans.
Camp at small, local spots. Bridge House in Dingle and Rossbeigh Overlook were both gems.
DRIVE CLOCKWISE around Slea Head Drive. (Worth repeating twice for safety.)
This trip reminded us how good it feels to unplug, take the scenic route, and let the moments in between the destinations be just as meaningful.
If you’re planning a trip like this, use our route as a jumping-off point. Steal what you like, skip what you don’t, and build something that fits your pace.
Whether you’re chasing puffins, castles, or just some peace and quiet on the Irish coast, Ireland has more than enough to offer.
Have questions? Drop them in the comments under the blog, I’m more than happy to share additional details.
Feeling inspired? Tag me when you go. Would love to see some of the adventures others are taking around Ireland!
