The evening had all the makings of a classic tourist experience. The pub offered "Irish Night" on Tuesday (presumably it's Albanian night on Monday, then?). We found a seat in the corner, while someone at the microphone encouraged the crowd to sing along to "Que Sera, Sera". "We haf this song in Germany too" said the blonde woman sitting next to me. She actually looked rather like Doris Day, in a Hausfrau type of way.

But the bar was pleasant, the beer was good and we'd just puttered across the bay in the dinghy to get there, so we took off our lifejackets and wellies, and settled in. Over the heads of the crowds we couldn't see the children demonstrating various traditional dances, but the music wasn't bad, and some of the 'open mike' singers were enjoyable.

I'd read about this pub on the internet - one web site said they had set dancing on Tuesdays and Fridays, but when I phoned over, the publicity manager (a very friendly Helen) explained that in the summer, Tuesdays are a mixture of music and singing, with dance demonstrations. "But perhaps we can manage some dancing for you", she said, "find me when you get here".

And indeed, Helen found me a partner to dance a ceili dance with, another partner for a series of waltzes, and even managed to get seven other people to dance some of the Connemara Set with me.

But what eventually became clear was that this wasn't really a tourist experience. The crowd consisted mostly of locals, and if "Arms of an Angel" is a pop song, rather than an Irish ballad - so what? The young woman singing did a fine job, and clearly had the support of a home crowd who enjoyed the song in an entirely traditional way.

Most of the music was traditional, though, and the local people genuinely enjoyed it even if it tended to be the kind of numbers one finds on albums by the Dubliners. And as they did, so did we, unbending from any snobbish ideas about 'genuine culture'. It was just a fun evening at the Bridge Bar in Portmagee. The German woman and her husband turned out to be very pleasant, and we introduced him to Murphy's, which rescued him from struggling through heavy pints of Guinness.

About midnight, Helen and partner Gabriel made a point of saying goodbye on their way home, and even had Charlie convinced he could enjoy himself if we came over for their set dancing workshop in May.

Motoring back in the dinghy, the bow wake twinkled with phosphorescent creatures, whole galaxies of them. Above us, in the first clear night sky we've seen on this voyage, the big dipper pointed our way. In the nearly complete darkness, the milky way laced across a million more stars, as we climbed aboard our own Dark Star. Back on deck, Charlie (at my request) created another set of phosphorescent galaxies in the sea, with a stream of filtered Murphy's Ale, delivered over the side and very carefully not into the wind.

Today, though, the wind has prevented us leaving, with gusts at sea up to Force 7. Even in this sheltered location it's too choppy to take the dinghy over to Portmagee for milk, so it's been another quiet catch-up day. Tomorrow, wind permitting, we'll sail on to Dingle, another long day, or if not then at least to Knightstown.