Glendalough

Gleann Dá Loch, the valley of two lakes. Wicklow likes to call itself the Garden of Ireland, and Glendalough is the glacial fold of it where a sixth-century hermit named Kevin came looking for a bit of peace and quiet. Legend has it he prayed so still that a blackbird laid her eggs in his outstretched palm, and he stayed put until they hatched.

The trouble with solitude, of course, is that people tend to follow. Monks came, then scholars and pilgrims, then Viking raiders and Norman lords, until Kevin’s hideaway had grown into a monastic city that lasted some 700 years. Today the day-trippers arrive from Dublin, and an hour among the ruins can drift by before the stones say much at all.

VoiceMap’s self-guided audio tour leads you from the stone gateway past the round tower and St Kevin’s Church, with tales of a prince-abbot who charmed old enemies and a doe who gave her milk into a hollowed stone. Try wrapping your arms around St Kevin’s Cross, as pilgrims did for centuries, then wander to the Lower Lake and linger as long as you like.