DAY 11: CORK

YOU have to get up pretty early in the morning to beat an Irishman.

But it wasn't the Irish we wanted to beat ... Just the busloads of tourists wanting to kiss the Blarney Stone.

The Blarney Stone is in Blarney Castle, about 18 minutes' drive out of Cork - the third castle on the site, dating from 1446. The castle and gardens (also containing Blarney House) comprise Ireland's most visited attraction.

So with all that saliva hitting the stone each day, we wanted to be among the first of the morning. As it turned out, one too many photo opportunities outside the castle and a couple of stops inside the narrow winding staircase of the tower leading to the top floor (where the stone is embedded in the wall) made us No.3 and 4 for the day.

I didn't want to think of how many people over the centuries have kissed the Blarney Stone to be blessed with the gift of the gab.

While strolling around the grounds can take hours as you check out the Irish Garden, Poison Garden and Badgers Cave among other things, the actual process of kissing the Blarney Stone takes seconds.

After a week in Ireland and soaking up the hospitality, I'd bend over backwards for the Irish ... And here was my chance. To kiss the Blarney Stone, I had to lie down on  my back, grab on to the bars overhead and, held by an assistant, arch my back, stretch down and pucker up.

The official photographer said that only two people back in the old days had never lived to kiss and tell. Maybe they weren't liked or maybe they had thin ankles and fell through the opening to the rocks below.

Now, having both kissed the Blarney Stone, I may be on an even footing with my husband in our frequent debates on which route to take on our travels.

And the final journey for the day in that regard took in the 179 km Ring of Kerry. With the weather we had, the Ring was spectacular: part Great Ocean Road drive, part Shute Harbour view over the Whitsundays, part New Zealand South Island mountain ranges. Just like the famous Irish blessing, the road did rise up to meet us.

Lesson of the day: the luck of the Irish is real. Not a single drop of rain and scorcher days of 26-30 since we arrived. And they're about the friendliest people I have ever encountered. A man overhead at a petrol station that we were trying to find our way to the Ring of Kerry. He came outside as we sat in our car at the petrol pump and told us the best way to get there. Then, when we called our host Dawn at Dingle Marina Lodge that we may have to check in late, she said she had closed the curtains in our room so it was nice and cool for our arrival and that she would be just on the end of the phone if we got lost. All Irish women sound like Mrs Doubtfure and I love that!