I’ll never forget the drive to County Kerry – we’d left Tralee in high spirits, windows down, singing along to some dodgy 90s playlist, only for me to miss the turn for Killorglin and end up splashing through a massive puddle that soaked the windscreen. Typical me, always too busy daydreaming about pasties to watch the sat nav properly. Still, by the time we pulled into that quiet private estate just outside town, the sun was peeking through, and my heart lifted. There it was, our cosy holiday home, all inviting with its ground-floor bedroom and setup perfect for our little group of five. Stepping inside, the spacious sitting room hit me first – those plush sofas begging for a collapse, and a woodburning stove that promised evenings of pure bliss, with a cheeky glimpse through to the dining area.

First impressions? Spot on. We dumped the bags and headed straight out for a leg-stretch along the nearby Laune River paths – flat, easy walking, with the water gurgling beside us and cows mooching in the fields. Kerry’s got that magic where even a gentle stroll feels like an adventure, and with the estate’s peaceful vibe, it was the perfect base. I was buzzing with anticipation for what lay ahead: hikes galore, from gentle riverside ambles to those proper hill treks.

Next morning, jackpot – blue skies! We tackled the walk up to O’Sullivan’s Cascade, a short but steepish jaunt from Killorglin, weaving through woods alive with birdsong. The waterfall at the top was thundering after recent rain, mist spraying our faces as we picnicked on cheese sandwiches. Felt like we’d stumbled into a postcard, laughing as we slipped on wet rocks. Pure joy, that – my mates ribbing me for packing too many crisps, but hey, fuel for the soul.

Then the British weather – sorry, Irish weather with a familiar spite – decided to flex. Day three dawned drearier than a Leeds winter, rain lashing the windows like it had a personal grudge. No way were we letting it ruin us. We layered up and hit the Gap of Dunloe trail instead, a rugged loop that’s doable even in a downpour if you’ve got decent wellies. Muddy paths, wind whipping our hoods, but the views through the mist to the lakes were hauntingly beautiful. We sheltered under a tree for a brew from the flask, pondering life’s little soakings. It got me reflecting, actually – back home I’m always rushing, but out there, trudging through the wet, you realise it’s the soggy bits that stick in the memory most. No Instagram perfection, just us, drenched and grinning.

By evening, back at the house, we’d earned that stove crackle, drying socks dangling like sad bunting. Another day brought mixed clouds, so we stuck local: a circuit around the estate’s lanes, popping into town for a coffee, then a longer riverside hike spotting herons. Kerry’s walks are forgiving like that – bad weather just swaps epic vistas for intimate, rainy chats. We even braved a blustery evening tramp along the old railway path, torches out, feeling like explorers.

Honestly, it was the hiking that made it – weather be damned. That quiet spot near Killorglin let us dive into Kerry’s wild side without the faff, and I’m already plotting a return. If you fancy walks that adapt to whatever the sky throws, this is your spot. Mud, mist, and all.