Spaaa-lendid

There are reasons why people keep going back to Ireland‹the warm welcome, story-telling genius, irresistible music, magical landscape, and that legendary connection to heroes, saints and spirits from time beyond memory‹to name a few.

Ireland is fun and fascinating. And now, the Irish, already acknowledged entrepreneurs of hospitality, have embraced one of the fastest growing aspects of tourism‹the destination spa.

In a visit to the West of Ireland last spring, I visited two of the newest spas. I flew into Shannon Airport, roughly halfway between the spas where I had reservations and picked up a rental car‹for following my nose, stopping for castles, mysterious Celtic remains, and inviting pubs where it's so easy to meet the people. I turned south.

I drove straight to Killarney, starting point for the storied Ring of Kerry, the route around the Iveragh Peninsula. Except for Dublin, this is the most touristed region in Ireland. Muckross House, Ross Castle and the ring-fort at Staigue are well worth a visit, and the famous Lakes of Killarney are plain glorious. I wanted to take a slow spin around the Ring, but I had promises to keep. I was close to my destination, the 5-Star Park Hotel Kenmare where I'd meet friends and experience the spa.

Famous for Irish hospitality since it opened in 1897, the Park is owned and managed by brothers Francis and John Brennan. It's consistently rated as one of the world's top hotels. The stately, grey-stoned structure rises in Victorian elegance atop a wooded mound whose lawn and tropical garden slope down to the tidal flats at the head of Kenmare Bay. From my bedroom windows, my view was the lawn, the bay and across the water, the rounded Cava Mountains. The hotel's 46 spacious rooms are filled with original paintings, old prints, books and antique furnishings. On a coffee table in my room was a glass jar containing freshly baked cookies‹as delicious as one would expect from the kitchen of the Park's renowned restaurant. Adjoining the hotel are an 18-hole golf course, a 40-acre woodland national park and the pretty Heritage Town of Kenmare.

The new star of the place is the spa. Opened last February at the cost of 5 million euros, it's called SAMAS‹an old Gaelic word meaning "indulgence of the senses"‹as indeed it is. SAMAS is an architectural knockout. Tons of rock were excavated from the limestone ledge next to the hotel, resulting in a 2-storied, grass-roofed building that except for window walls toward the bay, is hardly noticed from the outside. To enter, you come through a door from the Victorian splendor of the hotel into a long, softly lit corridor where the only sound you hear is water running down the wall beside you. Relaxation is key, so there's no hurry and you are encouraged to arrive at least an hour before a treatment to relax in the "thermal suite." This is a series of rooms, containing mist, steam, crystal sculpture and an "ice fountain."

You're already in nirvana by the time you hit the outdoor heated, infinity-edged pool which features five types of water massage, two glass walls and an open wall looking through the trees to Kenmare Bay. Then, your chosen treatment. (I'd never fallen asleep during a facial‹until then.) And finally, mellow out for as long as you like on a chaise in another glass box with that same spectacular view.

It's hard to leave the enchantments of southwest Ireland, but with eyes straight ahead, we reached the River Shannon in an hour and a half. The mouth of the Shannon is long and wide and since we wanted to stay near the coast, it made sense to take the Tarbert car ferry (20 minutes to cross the river from Co. Kerry to Co. Clare). The sun shone brightly that day, but when we climbed to the ferry's upper deck, we could taste the salt and feel the prick of the spray that blew in from the Atlantic.

The wind is always blowing at the Cliffs of Moher, which makes the place even more dramatic. A major tourist attraction, the Cliffs are crowded on the day we visit. Bent against the gale, we climb the path to the top and are rewarded with spectacular views‹north to the Aran Islands and the Connemara mountains and south to the cliffs that hang 650 feet above the sea and ripple like a stone curtain along 5 miles of shoreline. Resident puffins, cloughs and other sea birds dive and wheel in acrobatic frenzy as they ride the wind currents between the cliffs and the sea.

We're in Co. Clare, smack dab between two of Ireland's greatest sights, The Cliffs of Moher and The Burren, but there's a fishing village called Doolin just two miles up the road and it's world famous for traditional Irish music. People have been coming to O'Connor's Pub for over 150 years and it's an easy place to find in tiny Doolin. Inside, lobster pots hang from the ceiling and local musicians' photos hang on the walls. We order Guinness and hope that something spontaneous will occur. "Ah, we had a rare bunch o'boys in this morning, but you missed ëem. Can you come back tonight?" says the barman. We can't, but I resolve to catch one of those impromptu nights of music and hilarity before I leave Ireland.

Burren means "rocky place" in Irish. Often described as a vast moonscape, the Burren was formed 300 million years ago from tiny shells at the bottom of a shallow sea. The wrinkled limestone plateau covers about 100 square miles. There are small, isolated patches of green, reminders that once the land was forested, but trees were cut, most of the thin soil was blown away and only the rock remains.

But stop the car and step onto what seems to be a desolate landscape. In crevices between the slabs of rock, a colorful ecosystem explodes beneath your feet. Every spring, wind blown seeds fall into the cracks and onto bits of wind blown soil. And a profusion of Alpine, Arctic, Mediterranean and native Irish flowers appears. We saw violets, blue gentian, dandelions and many other blooms I couldn't identify. In another month, there would be tiny roses and wild orchids.

There are also hundreds of archeological remains in the Burren‹megalithic tombs and Celtic stone forts, wind blown medieval castles and crumbling abbeys, even remnants of very early Christians, who, seeking solitude in the wilderness, came to this part of Ireland long before the arrival of St. Patrick.

Reluctant to leave, we stayed in the Burren that night, at Gregan's Castle Hotel, a remarkably homey, comfortable establishment at the foot of Corkscrew Hill. In the morning, we drove around Galway Bay and into a dramatically different geography‹lovely, lonely Connemara. In this ancient Gaelic kingdom, the boundaries were never fixed exactly (roughly, the northwest section of Co. Galway) and you'll hear people speaking in Irish.

There are mountains on either side of us‹the Twelve Bens in the west and the Maamturks in the east. It's rugged, empty country, but the mostly treeless mountains are shaded in purple and soft browns and greens and there are fast-running streams and deep pools that reflect the sky. At the northern edge of Connemara is Killary Harbor, Ireland's only true fjord. We follow the road to its head and back again along the northern side, to the Delphi Valley and the Delphi Mountain Resort and Spa.

The remoteness of this place is part of its attraction. Never intruding on the landscape, the building itself is integrated into its setting. Using local stone and organic forms, the walls, corridors and even the roof are rounded and flowing, curving like the surrounding mountains. Architect Frank Ennis sees the spa as "a medium through which the individual may experience the enormous cleansing power of the surrounding mountains." His liberal use of windows showcases the unfolding drama of the valley and its moods, from stormy and brooding to lush and inspiring. Inside, the decor is contemporary, understated and sublimely comfortable.

The Delphi philosophy is twofold. One: the well-trained, friendly staff offers pampering and relaxation treatments, fitness classes and yoga. (I took a Chi Kung class in which controlled, gentle movements are supposed to relax and energize. I'm a novice and a klutz and I doubt that it had any effect. But it was a pleasure.) Two: the outdoors option offers 30 activities, most of them taking place in the wilderness presence of abundant wildlife (dolphins, seals and otters in Killary Harbor and the sea, and foxes, badgers, hares, martens, grouse, wild goats and more in the Delphi Valley. Trained guides will take you walking in the mountains or along the gentle coast, or biking, pony trekking, canoeing, sailing, surfing, water-skiing, rock climbing, dolphin watching or exploring sea caves in a kayak. Or you can work on a 50-foot high ropes course‹or a tennis course. My rather tame activity was an early morning hike into spectacular scenery. As I walked, I watched the sun move down a mountainside until the stream beside the path sparkled in its light.

A charming town called Ennis, the county seat of Co. Clare, is about 12 miles from Shannon Airport and many visitors to Ireland spend their last night there before flying home. As it happens, Ennis is well known for its "fleadhs" (music festivals) and on most nights, there's music in the pubs. We had a Sunday flight home and on Saturday night, we didn't have to go far to find a pub whose sound reverberated into the street. At The Town Hall Pub, they were playing two guitars, a banjo, tin whistle, bodhran (Irish drum) and uilleann pipes (Irish bagpipes have a sweeter, more melodic sound than their Scottish counterparts.) I missed a flute and a fiddle, but the players who gathered that night were great.

You simply can't leave Ireland without attending a "session."

Travel Writer Mary O'Brien resides in Glenview.

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