I've a confession to make - apart from a brief one-night stand last July in Killarney, I've never been to Kerry. You could say that that's a elephant-sized hole in my ship of knowledge, but I always felt sure that eventually the squirrel of time would nibble the nuts of destiny and I'd get there. Now it happened like this; my wife the artist Susan Morley has had a busy time exhibiting of late - for the Friends of the Rotunda and soon at The Royal Hibernian Academy in mid November in aid of the Special Olympics. With classic synchronicity all this artistic endeavour produced an invitation from Noelle Campbell-Sharpe to visit her and the Cill Rialig Project on Bolus Head, Ballinaskelligs.

Like a proper expedition we made military-style preparations; Susie and I arranged to meet up with Noelle and Mary Finnegan, who were taking the train to Killarney, at Kildare station. Kindly ladies, they'd already ordered an Iarnrod Eirrann full Irish breakfast for us, which arrived just after we'd settled ourselves down and after an early start to the day, it made a very welcome beginning to the trip. Alighting in Killarney we picked up Noelle's car and began the journey to the Skelligs. Now a direct, non-stop trip through the Kingdom would be something of a sacrilege, so naturally there were stops planned along the way. Firstly a little reviver in the Muckross Park Hotel in their old-world bar and then onwards to Kenmare where lunch awaited us. The artist was oohing and aahing enthusiastically as the autumnal Kerry landscape passed the car windows - the russets and gold of the trees, the rushing low fluffy clouds over the lakes and the pastoral animals basking in the watery sun.

Kenmare is absurdly picturesque, neatly laid out and very colourful. Its general air of business belies its population of 1,350 - you'd swear you were in a town five times that size. We'd come to meet John Brennan, who runs the Park Hotel. They'd just closed down for the winter, so he suggested a lunch in 'Jam', a new deli cum snack bar. As we walked the bustling streets John gave me another statistic. 'There are 42 places to eat in Kenmare, that's more places than there are pubs.' There can't be many towns in Ireland that can make the same claim.

Jam was jammed. It took us a while to get a table, and then we took our place in the self-service queue. The first thing you pass is the display of desserts, and if you hadn't had a full Irish breakfast you'd have been drooling with anticipation. Beautifully made and large in portion I eyed them longingly. Passing that counter we came to the hot foods; various quiches and pies looking equally tempting. I went traditional and picked out what we used to call 'bacon and egg pie', which was really good. The others had a variety of dishes before them - a vegetarian quiche, salads and pies. When we'd finished those, John would brook no argument; 'you have to taste the desserts' he said definitively, and in a moment there was a lemon cake, a banoffi and cream and chocolate on the table looking so tempting that we all succumbed. By the way, a half-litre bottle of mineral water in Jam costs €1.50. Why can't it always be at that price?

With this excellent lunch over it was time to get on the road again, the call of Cill Rialig summoning Noelle like a siren of Phorcys. We took the road through Sneem heading ever south-west, the drama of the landscape a continual wonder. You may be able to get to New York in five hours from Dublin, but Ballinaskelligs takes a little longer. Before dark we were home, ensconced on the mountain's edge, Horse Island below us, its ruff of sea foam heralding a blowy night to come.

In the mist, the rain and the wind of the next morning we went to see the village of Cill Rialig, which Noelle has rescued from oblivion and has turned into an artists' retreat. Five cottages are finished now and all five had resident artists, all no doubt inspired and enthused by the extraordinary fury of the elements raging around us. Me, I'm more of an indoor man, so when the suggestion was made of lunch in Portmagee I was keen. Warmth and shelter seem to me to be a rational response to Atlantic gales.

The drive was wonderful, the rawness of the topography making the Wicklow hills look like a manicured garden. We pulled up near the bridge in Portmagee and looked across to Valentia island. Too cold to stay outside, we went in to The Moorings and sat beside the fire. Two sea-food baskets - one for Susie and one for Mary - crumbed sole and chips for Noelle and fresh grilled mackerel for me were all just perfect. Not only was I warm and dry, but here was mackerel just out of the sea and on my plate. The freshness and simple but expert preparation of these dishes was a delight. It even made our conversation stop briefly as we put our noses to the trough. Beers, wine, Bloody Marys and tea accompanied this meal and here's the real joy of it - the bill was €50.05 for the four of us. Maybe you have to be outside the capital to get value like this, but places like The Moorings can only help our tourism industry.

Next week the 'Adventure in the Kingdom' continues as the intrepid four set out for Cahirciveen in the wind and rain - with no windscreen wipers.