Last week we left Noelle Campbell-Sharpe, Susan Morley, Mary Finnegan and me in Portmagee, about to drive to Cahirciveen. Now read on…

As we made our way to the car feeling happy and replete, the view of Valentia island disappeared. Low cloud accompanied by high winds heralded yet another change in the weather. As we started to drive away, Noelle turned on the windscreen wipers. Nothing happened. She tried the screen washer. Nothing. Wipers again. Nothing. She peered through the rain-splattered windscreen and said 'good thing I know the road well.' 'Drive fast,' I volunteered, 'the faster you go the more the rain will get blown off the windscreen.' I'll give her her due, she gave it a go. Oddly, the faster you go the less you can see, so after a bit she ignored my advice and drove slowly and safely.

Something else happened then, the windscreen kept misting up on the inside. The only cure was to open all the windows. Good thing we all had our Arctic survival gear on as the wind and rain howled through the car. 'This', I thought, 'is living on the edge. Experiencing nature's elements in the raw - tooth and claw as it were.' There's a strong sense on the coast here that you're getting three thousand miles worth of Atlantic weather at full bore. Nothing to slow it up until it hits the coast. I swear I saw bits of vertical sea, approaching at high speed, intent on smashing all their kinetic energy onto the land. Times like these make me glad I don't earn my living from fishing at sea.

We took a scenic route, although the visibility wasn't great. I could see my fellow occupants in the car, but not a whole lot else. On a couple of occasions, as we rounded a cliff-top hair-pin bend, Noelle said 'Normally you'd get a great view of Skellig Michael from here.' After three full days in Ballinskelligs I never did get to see it, let alone visit it. It reminded me a bit of the time I got to the top of Croach Patrick and had a view extended before me of some fifteen feet through the mist. I wanted to start selling blank white postcards entitled 'View from the Summit of Croach Patrick'.

We arrived in Cahirciveen early, so Noelle suggested a pre-dinner drink. That's easy enough to find in Cahirciveen, as there's upwards of fifty licensed premises to choose from. She took us to Michael Murt's, where we found a large number of men gathered around a TV screen. This didn't surprise me, until I noticed that it wasn't sport they were watching, it was a game show called 'Winning Streak'. The reason for this display of interest soon became apparent, a ban garda from Cahirciveen was a contestant. Michael Murt's is one of those wonderful pubs where there's a section set aside for you to buy things like a galvanised bucket, a scrubbing brush or bicycle clips - the sort of things you'd need to leave home to get, and you could have a drink whilst purchasing these necessities of life.

After watching the ban garda win prizes, we walked down the main street to QC's, Noelle talking about the Cill Rialiag Project, her plans for it and how the arts establishment should get involved. With perfect synchronicity and Malthusian coincidence, there outside the restaurant we met our minister for the arts, John O'Donaghue, giving Noelle the opportunity to make her case. This piece of luck meant that we entered the restaurant on a high of good fortune.

QC's is predominantly a fish restaurant, since there's a family connection with fish wholesaling. This means that like Caviston's in Dublin, you might well be getting the pick of the day's catch - or as it says on their card, 'fresh seafood from our boats to your plates'. Inside it's well-lit and comfortable with room enough between the tables for a little conversational privacy - and just as well. Since we'd eaten lunch only a few hours earlier none of us were ravenous. Noelle, Mary and Susie all decided on just a main course - fillet of brill, a plateful of crab claws and roast lamb. I should have mentioned that if you're not piscivorous, there are char-grilled meats as well on the menu. I decided that two starters would suit me well, allowing a taste of two dishes without feeling stuffed, so I picked pan-seared squid and then crab meat.

The wine list is heavily weighted towards Spanish wine and many of the Spanish listings are imported directly by QC's - a connection that was made as a result of sending fish to the Spanish markets. It's a short list - eight reds and eight whites, but the house wines are well priced at €16.50 and the majority of the rest are under €30. With so many good fish dishes on offer, I would have liked to have seen a larger choice of white wines.

The first dish to arrive was my squid, an array of small squid arranged around the plate, perfectly cooked and very tender. With help from the ladies this soon disappeared. My crab starter, which came next, was enormous but delicious and the ladies' main courses were proportionally large. 'Kerry portions', explained Noelle as we sat trying to summon up that thing called appetite. I forced myself to taste a little of everything and was happy to find that QC's know how to cook fish well, a skill not so easily encountered on the East Coast.

We sat a while finishing our wine and sipping coffee before settling the bill for €122.75, which didn't include service. The drive back to Ballinskelligs was memorable for this: just as we neared home the windscreen wipers inexplicably started to work again of their own accord - a reminder than when in Kerry, things can happen in mysterious ways.