Ireland is a very rural country, so there’s no way you could explore all the nooks and crannies of its beautiful nature on the public transport system. We’d heard from several people that the best way to experience the Emerald Isle was by road tripping through its scenic countryside.

So, after two nights in Dublin, we picked up our rental car, a tent and some sleeping bags, and hit the road without a solid itinerary. Our only real plan was to wild camp—AKA camping on the fly, in nature, away from commercial campsites. This is something we’d never really done before, even in the states, so why not dive right in and do it in a foreign country, right!?

From Wicklow to Cork, Kerry to Donegal we made our way around the entire country, which is roughly the same size as the state of Maine, in two weeks and found wild camping to be an incredible experience characterized by lots of green farmland, rocky mountain crags, and limited showers :). Here are a few tales from our wild-camping adventure:

Hook Head Lighthouse, County Wexford

Our first night wild camping was a little rough. We ended up near an abandoned farmhouse on a little stream, which made it a breeding ground for midges, little mosquito-like bugs. We won’t go into that story, but needless to say, we were hoping we’d find some place better for our second night.

We were in luck. After a day of driving and experiencing County Wexford in southeast Ireland, we came to the tip of the Hook Peninsula, Hook Head. At the end of the peninsula is a lighthouse that has been in use since it was constructed over 800 years ago. Craziness! The sun was shining, the ocean looked picture perfect, and we were ready to post up for the day. We saw a bunch of camper vans and RVs parked on a flat grassy spot overlooking the ocean and so…Boom…campsite for the night. We settled in, played some cards, enjoyed a wonderful sunset, and slept like babies. A much needed, easy night to re-inspire us.

Inch Beach, Dingle Peninsula

I thought I’d lead in with an easy, simple, stunning experience, just to make you think that every night was easy and glamorous. Ha! We found quickly that in contrary to its freedoms, wild camping presents its own set of unpredictable challenges. After driving the Ring of Kerry in southwest Ireland during the day, we came across Inch beach on the Dingle Peninsula, just before sunset. We again saw a herd of camper vans and RVs parked on the beach, which we learned was a good indication that this was a good place to post up for the night. Excitedly, we drove down onto the beach and started cruising along, feeling delighted about the prospects of having a nice soft sandy spot to put our tent and watch the sun crest the Atlantic. In my giddy stupor, I accidentally drove too far up the beach into the fluffy dry sand. Our car came to a halt, the front stuck on a hump of sand, the traction-less wheels spinning. We were stuck.

We got out of the car, scratching our heads. We began some feeble attempts to dig out the wheels with our hands, but it was no use. Then, an local Irishman who was exercising his horses on the beach drove up in a truck. He asked if we needed help, and then jumped out to hook up his 4x4 to the back of our SUV. It didn’t budge after a few attempts, and the guy’s horses were nearing his trailer. He drove off to handle the animals, assuring us he’d be back. He came back twenty minutes later with his son and a friend. They all worked together using cardboard boxes to give our wheels a surface to gain traction and then successfully pulled our vehicle to freedom. We thanked them profusely for saving us, amazed again by the generosity and warmth of the locals to tourists (we got stuck in Iceland and were assisted by locals as well). “If we are stuck in the US, we’re gonna look you up!” they yelled as they drove away. We limped our car back to the parking lot and then made a plan for the night.

We decided that since we were at the beach and it was getting dark, we still might as well camp on the sand, even if we had to leave our car in the parking lot. So we set up shop on the beach and hit the hay. As night fell, the wind picked up. Obviously on the beach, there isn’t much wind cover, so our tent (a small pop-up) was taking a beating. Not only were the roof and walls flapping in the wind, the sound was so loud and sporadic that we couldn’t get to sleep. After laying there awake for close to four hours, we decided that we had to try something else. Exhausted, cold, and annoyed we jumped out of the tent and drug it over to a nearby surf trailer parked on the beach, hoping for some wind cover. The trailer did little to nothing, as the wind kept gusting past our now feeble shelter. To make matters worse, we found that one of the tent poles had snapped. We packed up the tent and threw everything in the back of our car, admitting defeat. Groggily, we hopped in the front seats and tried to find the most comfortable position possible to finish the night. At least we were out of the wind.

After this treacherous night without anything a normal person would call “sleep”, we were up and out of the parking lot by 8am. As miserable as this night was, we made the most of it the next day, hiking Mt. Brandon, one of Ireland’s tallest peaks. The views of the Dingle peninsula were breathtaking. Even when wild camping took its toll, Ireland’s natural beauty breathed inspiration right back into us.

Bere Island, County Cork

Bere Island is basically a mini caricature of Ireland—green dramatic hills, farmland bordered by old stone fences, friendly people, a pub in every town. It’s Ireland condensed down into a small island of 200 that sits in Bantry Bay. We found out there was a ferry that runs back and forth between the island and the mainland a few times per day, and decided that it would be cool to spend the night on the island. We caught the ferry, which turned out to be a very “local” experience in and of itself.

We handed the operator cash and he motioned to me to back our vehicle down a 50 meter ramp onto the small ferry that already had a car on it. Nervous to back up the right-hand drive stick shift toward the water, I took a deep breath, put the car in reverse, and began moving slowly toward the ferry. To make the situation more stressful, another tourist walked up and started asking questions about the ferry and where it was going. “Not the best timing,” I thought to myself as I continued inching down the ramp. Miraculously, we backed onto the ferry and exhaled a sigh of relief as the boat departed.

After exploring the island, we found a flat spot to camp at a little lookout picnic area between farms. The view of the bay was beautiful as the light started to fade. The mountains of the mainland loomed high above the countryside. Ireland is farther north than Oregon, so in the summer it stays light even later. As a result, we became accustomed to farmers working and driving their tractors until midnight, taking advantage of the long twilight hours. Bere Island was no exception as we fell asleep to the distant hum of machinery. In the morning we hiked to the Martello tower on top of one of the islands tallest points, grabbed a coffee at the local cafe and hopped back on the ferry, a night on an Irish island in the books!

Looking back, wild camping wasn’t glamorous on paper. It was a lot of peanut butter and honey sandwiches, packing up a damp tent every morning, and going days without a shower or a sink. However, the rich experience it afforded in some of Ireland’s most scenic and rural areas made up for all of the inconveniences. It inspired us to want to do it more, especially in our home state of Oregon! Would recommend to anyone looking for an amazing experience, off the beaten path.