Moll’s Gap isn’t just a place—it’s a reckoning. It’s where the road writhes like a serpent through the MacGillycuddy’s Reeks, and the wind whispers stories to the mountains.
It’s the kind of place that leaves a scar on your soul, the kind of beauty that doesn’t just sit pretty—it demands to be felt.
You don’t just drive through Moll’s Gap. You survive it. You surrender to it. And if you’re lucky, you understand why this stretch of Kerry road has been leaving people breathless for centuries.
Is Moll’s Gap Worth Visiting?
If you have to ask, you haven’t been there.
Moll’s Gap is an essential stop on the Ring of Kerry, a road that rips through one of the most breathtaking landscapes in the world. This is Ireland in its rawest form—wild, untamed, and beautiful enough to bring a grown man to his knees.
You don’t visit Moll’s Gap for attractions or tour guides. You visit for the view, for the sky that seems bigger than anywhere else, for the sheer weight of the land pressing against your chest.
The Moll’s Gap walk offers you panoramic views of the MacGillycuddy’s Reeks, the highest mountain range in Ireland. The Glanmore Lake shimmers below, untouched and eternal. And if you’re lucky, you’ll catch sight of a red deer, the ghosts of Ireland’s past, still roaming these lands as they have for thousands of years.
So, is it worth visiting?
Let me put it this way—if you leave Kerry without seeing Moll’s Gap, you haven’t really been to Kerry at all.
Where is Moll’s Gap?
You’ll find Moll’s Gap slicing through County Kerry, between Kenmare and Killarney, a twisting ribbon of road that’s as dangerous as it is beautiful.
This is one of the most spectacular stretches of the Ring of Kerry, a road trip that every Irish person should make at least once in their lifetime.
Moll’s Gap directions?
Simple. Get yourself to Killarney or Kenmare, follow the road that seems hell-bent on tearing through every mountain in sight, and let it take you somewhere that feels closer to the sky than the ground.
Why Is It Called Moll’s Gap?
Moll Kissane.
A woman with a name sharp enough to cut through history, a woman who didn’t just live in the wilds of Kerry—she thrived in them.
She was a formidable woman, a businesswoman, a smuggler. In the 1800s, when famine and hardship stalked the land like wolves, Moll ran a shebeen—an unlicensed pub, pouring illicit whiskey for weary travelers who needed something stronger than the wind to hold them up.
The British tried to tax her. The priests tried to shame her. The mountains just watched.
She lived hard, died harder, and left her name carved into the landscape, a tribute to a woman who refused to be anything but herself.
Today, Moll’s Gap pubs are a little more legal, but the spirit of Moll Kissane still lingers in the air, laughing at the law, pouring one last drink for the road.
Where is the Gap of Dunloe?
Not far from Moll’s Gap, the Gap of Dunloe is another violent tear in the earth, another place where Kerry refuses to be anything less than dramatic.
You’ll find it just outside Killarney, a narrow glacial valley wedged between Tomies Mountain and Purple Mountain.
This is not a place for cars. If you want to feel the land, you walk it. Or, if you want a bit of old-world magic, you take a jaunting car, one of those horse-drawn carts driven by men who know more stories than you have time to hear.
Either way, this isn’t just a route—it’s an experience.
Which Beautiful Tourist Trail in Southwestern Ireland is One of the Most Visited Regions in the Country?
The Ring of Kerry.
No hesitation. No debate. This is the crown jewel of Irish road trips.
A 179km loop of rugged coastline, towering mountains, ancient ruins, and villages that feel like they belong in another century, the Ring of Kerry is where Ireland reveals herself in all her wild, heartbreaking beauty.
It’s the kind of place that makes poets out of cynics and turns silence into something sacred.
What Is the Scenic Route from Killarney to Kenmare?
The N71 road—also known as the route through Moll’s Gap—is the scenic route from Killarney to Kenmare.
But don’t let the road signs fool you.
This isn’t just a route. It’s a performance, a reckless dance between asphalt and landscape, a place where the mountains feel close enough to touch and the valleys threaten to swallow you whole.
You don’t just drive from Moll’s Gap to Kenmare. You submit to the road and let it take you where it wants.
What Elevation Is Moll’s Gap?
You’re high, but not quite in the heavens.
Moll’s Gap sits at an elevation of 860 feet (262 meters) above sea level, which doesn’t sound like much until you’re standing there, looking down on the world below, feeling like you’ve climbed into another dimension.
It’s not the altitude that makes Moll’s Gap special. It’s the perspective.
Is the Gap of Dunloe a Hike?
Yes. But calling it a hike is like calling the Atlantic Ocean a puddle.
The Gap of Dunloe walk is a jaw-dropping, soul-shaking journey through some of the most rugged and spectacular landscapes in Ireland.
It’s about 11km long, winding its way through five glacier-carved lakes, ancient stone bridges, and mountains that don’t care whether you make it through or not.
Hiking the Gap of Dunloe isn’t just about walking. It’s about earning the right to stand in a place that feels untouched by time.
Moll’s Gap to Sneem: A Road You Won’t Forget
From Moll’s Gap to Sneem, the road is one of the finest in Ireland.
It snakes its way through untamed Kerry countryside, past hidden lakes, deep valleys, and scenery that feels too wild to be real.
By the time you reach Sneem, a picture-perfect village perched on the banks of the Sneem River, you’ll feel like you’ve traveled through something older, wilder, and truer than any guidebook could ever capture.
Final Thoughts: Why Moll’s Gap Will Stay With You
Some places get under your skin. Some places never leave.
Moll’s Gap isn’t just a bend in the road. It’s a testament to survival, to the people who shaped it, to the land that refuses to be tamed.
It’s the kind of place that makes you feel small and infinite at the same time.
So go. Stand on that edge. Let the wind tear through you. Look out over the world and realize that some places weren’t made for postcards—they were made to remind you what it means to be alive.
Moll’s Gap isn’t something you just see. It’s something you absorb. It’s the kind of place that seeps into your bones, whether you want it to or not. Stand there long enough, let the wind rip through you, and you’ll start to feel like part of the landscape itself—just another silent witness to the centuries of change that have shaped this land.
The drive up to Moll’s Gap is as much a pilgrimage as it is a journey. You don’t just take the road—you let it take you. The asphalt writhes and twists, snaking its way through the MacGillycuddy’s Reeks, those brooding mountains that loom like old gods watching over the land. You climb higher, the air growing thinner, the sky stretching wider, until suddenly, there it is—Moll’s Gap, unfurling before you like a vision.
If you’re the type who just steps out, snaps a photo, and drives on, then Moll’s Gap isn’t for you. It’s not the kind of place that hands itself over so easily. It demands that you stop, that you breathe it in, that you let it settle into your chest and rattle around for a while.
It’s the silence that gets you.
Even with the wind howling, even with the occasional car passing through, there’s a silence here that feels different. It’s not the silence of emptiness. It’s the silence of something ancient, something watching, something remembering.
And then there’s the view.
To the north, the mountains roll and crash into each other, a frozen sea of jagged peaks and deep valleys. Below, Glanmore Lake sits still and waiting, dark as ink, reflecting the sky like a mirror too afraid to shatter. To the south, the road stretches toward Kenmare, winding its way through a landscape so wild and beautiful it almost doesn’t seem real.
You could stand there for hours and still not take it all in.
But Moll’s Gap isn’t just about what you see. It’s about what you feel.
There’s a weight to this place, a gravity that holds you in place. It’s the knowledge that you’re standing where countless others have stood before you—travelers, wanderers, lost souls looking for something they couldn’t quite name. Some of them found it here. Some of them kept searching.
And then there’s Moll herself, the woman who gave this place its name.
You can almost hear her laughter in the wind, the ghost of a woman who lived by her own rules, who poured drinks for smugglers and outlaws, who outlived the famine and the laws and the priests who tried to shut her down. You get the sense that she’d be pleased to know that, all these years later, people are still stopping here, still raising a glass in her honor, still whispering her name as they stare out over the land she called home.
And if you’re lucky, if you listen close enough, you might just hear her whisper back.
Moll’s Gap isn’t just worth visiting. It’s worth remembering. Because long after you’ve left, long after the road has pulled you away, it’ll still be there—waiting, watching, unchanged.
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