At least I didn't blow over.

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Geo: 53.2789, -9.06619

Up early as we had to load the bus by 8:20. Lots of banging during the night and still slightly damp underthings this morning. The wind was still strong and it had just stopped pouring when we left Dingle.

Declan started off talking about a local guy named Tom Crean (after whom the beer we had at dinner last night was named) who went on Antarctic expeditions in the early 20th century. He was one of the men who went to retrieve Scott's body, and Scott's grateful widow made a gift of 100 pounds to Crean. He then went on expedition with Ernest Shackleton. It was a horrible, awful expedition that lasted a helluva lot longer than it should have, but all the men from the party returned safely to Europe. Shackleton asked Crean to go with him on another expedition, but Crean had had enough and with the 100 pounds that Mrs. Scott had given him, he opened a pub called The South Pole Inn, which we passed. There's a penguin on the side. Declan passed around a photo of his grandfather taken in front of the pub with Tom Crean which Declan's brother found in a book he read about the Shackelton expedition. Crean survived frigid seas, ice and near starvation, only to die in Ireland in 1938 of a ruptured appendix.

We drove through Tralee, during which Declan sang “The Rose of Tralee” to us. He pointed out a sports arena that was built several years back that has a dome with a sort of small conical finial on top. The local people now refer to it as the Tit of Tralee.

The roads we drove on today were not only twisty and windy (we went down one called Corkscrew Hill, which has about six or seven switchbacks), they were also very bumpy. This is because they are built across bogs, and the problem with building on bogs is that subsidence happens almost instantly. So we bumped and swayed till we got to Tarbert where we took a 20-minute ferry ride across to County Clare. Taking a ferry apparently saved us another three hours of driving.

Our next stop was the Cliffs of Moher. It wasn't at all what I expected. I figured it would be sort of a big plain with a sheer cliff. But there's a nice visitor center with an interpretive exhibit and two cafeterias, and the paths to the cliffs were nicely paved, with wide, even stairs up the hillside. When we first arrived, Declan had us gather for a moment, and he brought out a bottle of Bailey's to share. Yay! The wind was busy typhooning, so we all had to keep our hands over our cups so the wind wouldn't blow the liquid right out.

The view from the cliffs over the Atlantic is fantastic, and the cliff faces are beautiful. My camera will not do them justice. (In fact, my camera will not do Ireland in general justice.) There are puffins, gannets and guillemots that nest on the cliffs, but not at this time of year. There is an old tower at one end of the path, which usually takes maybe five minutes to walk to. It took us a little longer because we were walking into the wind. It honestly felt like I could jump straight up into the air and land about six feet away. You don't just go on a Rick Steves tour, you endure it!

We got out of the insane wind and went to the cafeteria for lunch (ham and cheese panini) in the visitor center, which is built into the side of a hill so looks like a Teletubby house. The gift shop had some really lovely warm hats and mittens that I dithered over for a few minutes. The problem is that once you're inside, you forget just how windy and cold it is outside, and you figure, “Eh. I don't really need a hat.” But then you try to walk back to the bus in an upright position while also trying to keep your hair out of your eyes and you think, “Boy, I could really use a hat!” They should start selling those things outside.

After that, and after Declan sang “Galway Bay” to us, we visited The Burren. The Burren, which literally means “rocky place,” is a barren limestone plateau, which one of Oliver Cromwell's surveyors described in the 17th century as “yielding neither water enough to drown a man, nor a tree to hang him, nor soil enough to bury him.” Those Cromwellians were always thinking about ways to get rid of people. The ground is filled with rocks, and the mountains are covered with them. But because the rocks are limestone, good stuff seeps into the soil when it rains, and it actually makes for a great place to be a cow. Good grass, you know. Our guide John took us on a hike from his family's farm (which has been there since his great-great-grandfather) up the hillside so we could see all the lovely flora and the fantastic views. Nothing much is blooming at the moment, but this is a serious ecosystem wherein Mediterranean and Arctic wildflowers bloom side by side. Unfortunately, because of all the recent rain, the path we took was pretty muddy (though not anywhere near as muddy as it would have been on regular soil), and one lady in our group took a tumble. Fortunately, John had lent us all walking sticks so I managed to get both up and down without fallin' on me arse.

Driving along, I notice that garages don't seem to be a big thing here. Even in newly built developments with nice-looking homes, there aren't garages. Sometimes you could tell that a garage had been converted to living space, but mostly garages are a rarity.

We arrived in Galway a little after 5:00, and we are split between three B&Bs. The tour literature just said Petra House, but I was assigned to the Balcony B&B, and I have a nice little room at the top of the stairs with a view down an actual street, not an air shaft or service courtyard!

We were scheduled to go to the Aran Islands by ferry tomorrow, but because of the hurricane the ferry is unlikely to be running, or, if it is, could choose to stop service at any moment, leaving us stranded on an island. So Declan has made an executive decision that we won't even chance it tomorrow. This is a bit disappointing, as I was really looking forward to seeing Inishmore, but not so much that I would want to risk spending the night there without accommodation!

We had another group dinner at McSwiggans in the center of Galway. Quite a big restaurant with a western feel to it. We were crammed into three tables, and it got so hot. I had a sweet and spicy sausage appetizer (not as odd as it sounds), beef medallions, and chocolate mousse cake. We are definitely not starving to death on this tour.

Declan took us on a quick walk through the city center, stopping at Lynch's window. Back in Ye Olden Tymes, the king of England gave 14 loyal families the control of Galway, one being the Lynch family. At some point, Walter Lynch was the mayor of Galway. His son got into a duel and accidentally killed his opponent, which was considered murder. The penalty for murder was execution, but no one was willing to execute the son of the mayor. So Walter Lynch himself executed his own son. And they think this is where the term “lynching” comes from.

Naturally, it was raining again and still windy, so the walk wasn't very long, and I think nearly all of us returned to the B&Bs instead of staying out in the pubs. Am now trying to Skype with John (Happy birthday!), but the connection is funky. So funky, in fact, that I can't upload photos. Maybe tomorrow.

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Comments

[Kate]

Darn, too bad you didn't have a poltergeist but at least you were able to get an explanation for the banging! Cute photo of you back in Dingle with the lighthouse in the background. Nice that you got to sleep in a little on that rainy, wi
ndy day that was your day off on the tour. I would have gone back and taken a nap later!! Hope you are able to get out to Inishmoor the next day (or is that just canceled altogether?) Stay dry and warm and don't get blown out to sea!!