Day 5: Driving to the Burren

Having made the reservations, Axel was excited about the next stop on our Irish adventure: Moy House. It certainly looked very romantic online, but sometimes pictures can be deceiving! The four hour drive from Dingle took us up the West coast of Ireland across the River Shannon into County Clare. Crossing the Shannon required a ferry crossing as Ireland still relies on ferries rather than bridges to cross many of its rivers. Despite the fact that we were at least 20 miles inland, the weather front from the previous day made our crossing a windy one. Since we were the first car onto the ferry, we sat nearest to the bow ramp which meant that waves and spray crashing over the bulwark doused the car on several occasions. The wetness combined with the pitching and shaking of the ship made for what Laurie described as, “an amazing roller coaster ride!”
Moy House is located on the beach outside the seaside town of Lahinch (also spelled Lehinch) just a few miles from the famous Cliffs of Moher and about 20 minutes from The Burren, a unique landscape covering the northern half of County Clare. As we approached Lahinch from the South, we rounded a bend in the road and spotted the discrete sign for Moy House. We turned onto a shaded drive which was lined by low stone walls covered in a thick layer of moss. The house, a white 19th century number built as a second home for its wealthy builder, is a romantic’s dream. The house was immaculately restored by its current owner to serve as a “Country House” (an Inn to Americans) and is a warm, cozy home away from home. The staff is impeccable in attending to our every wish and is incredibly courteous. The German hostess (or “German contingent” as Axel calls her) who welcomed us into the house is a bundle of efficient activity. She took us on a quick tour which had both of us oohing and ahing at every turn. The fully-equipped “show” kitchen is on the lower floor and is open to all guests outside of meal hours. We can simply go in and help ourselves to anything in the fridge. The inviting drawing room has a big bay window facing the Atlantic and a full honor bar, including (Axel noted) a bottle of Midleton Very Rare Irish whiskey. Our super-cozy room has a partial canopy bed and its very own fireplace which has a pile of peat bricks burning in it as this is written. True to our tradition, Axel finally had the bottle of champagne and chocolate covered strawberries waiting for us on our arrival. Laurie was beginning to wonder if he had forgotten. We sipped champagne as the warmth of the flickering fire warded off the chill damp of the Atlantic outside.
For those who might be wondering, that was not a typo, they do burn PEAT in this country. Peat, or turf as the Irish call it, is literally decomposing vegetation and in many parts of the country it is upwards of 10-15 feet thick and covers hundreds of square miles. The Irish dig it out of the ground, dry it and then press it into neat bricks. Although less intense than coal, it burns hotter than regular wood and is far more plentiful in Ireland. Burning peat gives off a very characteristic sweet smell that is such a part of the Irish cultural landscape that a visitor is sure to encounter when walking through any Irish village.
We were excited about the prospect of dinner at Moy House but it was not on for this night. Instead, we were directed to a Pub which we were told had excellent food. Expecting top notch pub grub and nothing more, we were blown away when we were served fine cuisine such as Axel’s duck magret with foie gras. We have since discovered that the British Isles have been afflicted with a syndrome of “gastro-pubs” in recent years where some pubs have tried to actually have good food…

Where we stayed: Moy House
Where we ate: Vaughan's Anchor

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