We were in the Beara Peninsula, outside Castletown Bearhaven, looking across to Bear island and sipping a morning coffee when it happened. The most unusual meteorological phenomenon occurred; suddenly a cloud moved and a huge ball of fire appeared in the sky unleashing a terrifying brightness. Not only that, but it radiated heat as well, bringing temperatures soaring to nearly twenty degrees. Motorists were forced to turn off their headlights and windscreen wipers, I could feel my sinuses beginning to dry up, a strange warmth permeated my damp clothes. It seems that this event was observed over the entire peninsula, wreaking panic everywhere. People caught outdoors had to abandon their umbrellas - although some seemed to think they made a good defence against the searing light - others even removed overcoats in their panic.

Obviously an event as startling and as bizarre as this didn't go unremarked. By the time we'd driven to Causkey's Bar in Eyeries the talk was of little else. For several hours this phenomenon continued, allowing us a view from the picture window at the back of the bar across the Kenmare River to Lamb's Head and for a while we even sat outside, basking in this unnatural heat. The effect of this extraordinary sunlight wasn't confined only to the views. The little town of Eyeries, which nestles on the coast, is a Technicolor delight. Each house is painted in bright and differing colours - Stockholm Yellow, Aegean Blue, greens and pinks - all of which create a magical effect against the skyline. On a day like this one it was almost Mediterranean, with the dramatic coastline reminding me of some of the Heptanese Islands.

Following the road south from Eyeries, after more spectacular coastline you come to Allihies, which also sits resplendent in its multicoloured glory. Now here's a thing: how often have you gone looking for food outside the magical hour from one to two o'clock and been told 'sorry, we're no longer serving'? It's happened often enough to me that I've been conditioned in a Pavlovian way to expect that answer. In the middle of Allihies is O'Neill's Bar and Restaurant, where I was told good food could be had. We got there sort of mid-afternoon, so I was half-expecting to find no food. Instead, we found a pretty full menu, all of which was available and all of which can be had throughout the day. We took a table secure in the knowledge that we would now be fed.

The view from O'Neill's is out the front, as opposed to Causkey's where it was at the back. A few hardy souls were sipping their pints outside, but Susie and I decided that the cooling sea-breeze was best faced indoors. The front of the lounge is dominated by a large oil painting, which impressed me most by it's choice of subject matter; the last sunset of 1999, or the last of that millennium. If you could get a picture of a sunset this year at all, you'd be doing well. Whether that's the reason, or whether there's a range of others I don't know, but it's certainly true that there's a dearth of tourists around the country this year. Over the few days that we found ourselves in West Cork and Kerry I could have counted the tour buses and campers that we saw on the fingers of one hand. Perhaps what's missing here for European tourists are cheap hotel rooms. In France you can stay in various hotel chains from prices as low as €35 per night for a room for three people - here you'd be lucky to get that price for one. Perhaps this slump in tourism hasn't been making much of splash in the papers up to now, but it will have a serious effect on the catering industry, especially in the rural areas. The next twelve months will be hard for many.

Arriving to eat in mid-afternoon means you can't eat too much, especially if you're planning to be going out for dinner, but the menu in O'Neill's makes perfect allowance for moments such as these with a selection of simple, but tasty dishes. Much of the menu is seafood, to the delight of my wife, and she immediately settled on an open crab sandwich, while I chose a bacon ciabatta. A few years ago you'd have been hard pressed to find anyone in this country who knew what ciabatta was, let alone have it on a menu. Changes like this are a big plus, in my opinion. A pint and a half of lager accompanied these two dishes.

Don't let anyone tell you otherwise - it's as easy to mess up a simple dish as it is to mess up a complicated one. The two we'd picked could easily have been spoiled by careless or ignorant preparation. Here both dishes were not only well-presented, but were good, generous in size, and just right for our mood of the moment. Susie was positively enthusiastic over her crab; it came with a well-dressed salad that included oak-leaf lettuce and two balls of potato salad, almost like a puree, flavoured with chives and onions. My bacon ciabatta came with melted brie - a combination that worked very well - as well as the green salad and potato salad. When simple foods are good like this, there's little to beat it.

A bill for €21.15 covered this most perfect of snack lunches and we set off for Castletown Bear once more. Looping through the spectacular southern tip of the peninsula, we realised that had we been in Dublin this would have been rush hour. We smiled with satisfaction at the thought of it. Epicaricacy may not be the noblest of emotions, but at times like these it's hard not to succumb.