Advertisement
Published: October 7th 2007
Edit Blog Post
Connemara Ponies
The New Young Pony Club (Connemara Branch) August 2005
We were looking for somewhere easy and price competitive from EMA for a spontaneous trip at August Bank Holiday. The best option was direct to Shannon on board the penny fight champions without a particular plan of action thereafter. The most obvious destination was Limerick. However a quick read of certain travel guides, seems to focus on a place with unemployment, crime and general neglect at worst and a place where the visitor might still have to dig a little to appreciate it’s charm. We landed at Shannon and turned towards Ennis.
Ennis held enough charm without digging for a Saturday night out. A typical Irish market town with a ruined friary, painted shop fronts and enough establishments selling the black stuff to make the night out entertaining. Ennis was our first experience of an Ireland with a smoking ban - I guess it’s probably changing now, but a nice summer’s night was no deterrent to people standing outside and having a drag and so it seemed that half the population of Ennis was opting for the al fresco pub experience.
After a full Irish fry, we headed west to the Clare coast. The nice summer’s
Connemara
Twelve Bens evening had changed for a wet, windy morning more akin to winter, so it was a serious doubt as to whether the Cliffs of Moher were going to be an impressive sight. We hit the coast somewhere near Spanish Point, which appears to be somewhat of an Irish surf mecca. The bay near Lahinch was littered with some very wet tents, as humanity peered out on a Sunday morning to look disapprovingly at the quality of the waves. The smarter surfer did so from his / her VW campervan. Lahinch was closed and wet, with a scattering of disillusioned Americans wandering in search of whatever they were promised in the tour brochure.
The Cliffs of Moher were big - 650 feet big to be precise - towering out of the Atlantic Ocean, the mist and the clouds. The Americans had been replaced by Japanese, some of which were totally unprepared to be blown off their high heels on the walk up from the Visitor Centre to the tower on top of the cliffs. The visitor centre was in the process of reconstruction, the car park was full and the air was littered by flying Burberry hats - blown from
Connemara
Roundstone the head of the unsuspecting visitors from the East. I suppose the views were breathtaking - they would have been more breathtaking had they been a bit more visible. The rain continued - it’s not green in Ireland for nothing!
The weather had perked up a bit by the time we arrived at the Burren. The word apparently derives from boireann, meaning rocky land in Gaelic and it’s an apt name for this limestone plateau. It was described by Cromwell’s men in the 17th century as a place yielding no water to drown a man or a tree to hang him, nor soil to bury him. Whilst there are no visible trees, in amongst the crevices of the rock small plants and wild flowers thrive.
We drove into Galway city and installed ourselves at the Harbour Hotel near the city centre. A modern hotel best described as between the oil terminal and the shops, it came with the bonus of free parking which appeared a problem elsewhere. The centre of Galway is fairly compact, the main action being either side of the River Corrib as it flows into the sea. As with a great part of Ireland riding
Sky Road - Connemara
View of the coast from the Sky Road - next stop America on the back of the Celtic Tiger economy, it appeared a city on the up with redevelopment on a grand scale at every turn. The big Georgian Square that appeared impressive and attractive on the promotional photos was at the time of our visit a tribute to the Irish construction industry - still I’m sure it looks fine today.
The main focus of the city centre is on the area near the Spanish Arch. It was originally built in 1584 to protect the harbour area outside the old city walls. On a fine Sunday afternoon, it was a place where most of the visitors gravitated to and ambled by the river. We took a beverage or two in a number of establishments between Eyre Square and the river - some better than others. The famous Irish craic wasn’t really in abundance - it was more of a stage-managed event to relieve the Americans of their Euro pocket money.
As dreadful as the weather was on Sunday morning, it was just the reverse and glorious on Monday morning- never give up on the weather in Ireland, it’s changeable! We left the city for a drive round Conemarra, taking a
right turn just after the splendidly named Recess into the Twelve Bens area. The drive between the main N59 road and the area near Kylemore is probably the highlight of Connemara - the Twelve Bens stand majestically to your left, as the cut peat dries near the road. The small town of Letterfrack is an interesting coffee stop and the grounds of Kylemore Abbey on the edge of the lough are worthy of a stop.
Alas, Clifden the main town on the peninsula is a bit of a circus. The town seems to be the centre of the coach tours and where they cast them a drift for their food and water and souvenir shopping stop. We didn’t stick around for long and made our escape on to the Sky Road to the west of the town. It’s only a 7 mile circular route, but has some stunning views out over the Atlantic Ocean. This is very much next stop USA territory - the sort of place you could buy a place and gaze out across the pond through the picture window. Unfortunately looking at the astronomical prices that even the most moderate property costs in the west of
Ireland, only the chosen few have any chance of living the dream.
The route south of Clifden on the R341 is an area of bog land, with views of the Twelve Bens off to the left in the distance. This is where Alcock and Brown nose dived into a bog, after completing the first transatlantic flight in 1919. A worthy detour. The weather remained glorious all day - there were even people on the beach enjoying the sun near Coral Strand Beach and Ballyconneely, which was a stark contrast to 24 hours ago.
The place during the whole day where you could have just parked the car and ordered copious amounts of Guinness was Roundstone. If you can drag yourself away from the fine stretch of sand at the interestingly named Dog Bay, Ireland can’t really get much better than a drop of the black stuff in this attractive village. We made our way back into the greater Galway area and had a stroll at Salthill. Salthill is effectively the seaside suburb of Galway - an alternative place to stay if you don’t fancy the city centre - or the ideal spot for a brisk stroll along the
beach and an ice cream.
We decided to give Limerick a couple of hours before the plane at Shannon, but despite the digging we couldn’t quite get to appreciate it’s charm. The area around Thomond Bridge and King John’s Castle is probably the pick, although there are one or two nice examples of Georgian architecture if you look hard enough.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.104s; Tpl: 0.013s; cc: 8; qc: 24; dbt: 0.0804s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 3;
; mem: 1.1mb