Advertisement
Published: August 13th 2007
Edit Blog Post
Clare
After Kerry I went up to County Clare, where my base was the town of Doolin. Clare is home to two things I’d really wanted to see in Ireland; the Cliffs of Moher and the Burren.
On the bus up to Doolin we stopped for 15 minutes at the centre for the Cliffs of Moher. I couldn’t resist popping up to the cliffs for a quick preview, even though I was planning to spend a day there later. It was evening, so the light was fairly low and it was overcast, too, but the cliffs were quite stunning. I just stopped at the first viewpoint because I didn’t want to miss the bus.
After Dingle, with it’s litter problem overshadowing the beautiful landscape, it was heaven to stand at the top of these gorgeous cliffs and look out toward America, breathing air that no one but the birds had breathed for 2000 miles.
Doolin was a cute little waterfront town, but the waterfront was completely wild. Just a stone pier to walk out on. No buildings to ruin the view. This is because it is the start of the Burren, a massive limestone karst plateau that
stretches up the Clare coast and inland aswell. To the left, if you’re looking out to sea, there are beaches and headlands, but the water is so violent that swimming would likely be suicide. To the right is the burren, a crazy moonscape stretching into the distance. If you look straight out to sea on a clear day, you can see the Aran Islands which are part of County Galway.
On my first full day in Doolin I decided to put on my hiking boots and caught the bus up the coast to a lighthouse at a place called Black Rock, the northern end of that stretch of coast. My plan was to walk back down the coast to Doolin, arriving at the hostel for an early dinner. Heading down the coast was like walking on the moon. Off the road you could walk through the ‘fields’ which were really limestone beds with grass growing in the gaps. It’s amazing that animals can graze there. The limestone creates some strange weather in the Burren area. Here, the farmers take their livestock up into the hills in winter, as the limestone somehow means the weather is warmer the higher you
go. I met a few cows on the way, saw a dolphin diving along in the sea and also met a very friendly donkey who kept coming to have his nose scratched.
I stopped in at a roadside café, really an old lady’s kitchen set up selling soup and sandwiches to passers by. While I ate my soup (Ireland’s soup is outrageously good) she suggested that instead of continuing down the coast, which I’d seen from the bus anyway, that I take the next left and climb into the hills. From the top of the ridge I could join the Burren Way that would take me back to Doolin with glorious views out both sides. It sounded good to me, and would have been, too, except that when I finally reached the top of the ridge the weather had well and truly closed in. It was pissing down and so foggy I could only see 10 metres or so in front of me.
The way was well marked though, as most of it was along what they call green roads (we call them races) so there was no danger of getting lost. I met 2 walkers coming the
other way - a man and his very unhappy looking girlfriend. They still had a good long way to go before they could stop for the day. The walk along the ridge was a good 4 hours, all the way walking into the wind and rain, and by the time I got down from the hills and under the shelter of the trees I was wet all down my back and up my arms, despite my gore-tex jacket. The last hour I spent wandering along in the rain (far more pleasant under cover of trees along the country roads than it had been on top of the ridge) and got into Doolin about 7 hours after leaving Black Rock, very ready for my dinner and an Irish coffee. It was one of the best days of the trip so far, I felt like I’d finally experienced some real Irish weather, and the Burren was just spectacular.
The next day in Doolin I spent the morning down at the coast, walking along the rock and sitting looking out to sea. After lunch I went back to the Cliffs of Moher. This time the weather was glorious and it was a
very different experience. There was still that amazingly fresh air though. It seems to constantly blow inland. I walked all the way to the end of the cliffs proper but stopped short of the Hags Head a few kilometers further on.
The time I spent in Doolin went some way to restoring my enthusiasm for Ireland that had been a bit stretched by the week I spent around Dingle. I felt ready to move on again with enthusiasm.
Galway
From Doolin I went up to Galway city. What a beautiful town! I had a great couple of days there, just cruising round the city and walking along the waterfront. The buildings were beautiful; like miniature Victorian mansions through the whole city. In all the time I spent in Galway, somehow I didn’t take a single photo!
Galway is one of the main staging points for trips to the Aran Islands. I wanted to visit the Aran Islands for two reasons. The first and foremost was to visit Dun Aengus, an iron age fort that features in several of my favourite Irish legends. The second was to buy an Aran Sweater for dad, from the source.
I went to Inishmor, the main island and the one featuring Dun Aengus. When I got there I hired a bike, the most popular mode of transportation on the island. The wharf was at the opposite side of the island from the fort so to make a loop to the fort and back was to see nearly the entire island (they’re only small). On the way to the fort were several smaller ring forts and an old wedge tomb on the highest point of the island. That was not very high… they’re pretty flat islands, Inishmor especially.
Dun Aengus was spectacular. It was a ruin, of course, but the position on the cliffs was amazing. Unlike most ring forts, Dun Aengus is a semi-circle to take advantage of the natural defense of the high cliffs along one side. It is slowly crumbling into the sea, but is preserved as much as possible. I shared my visit with a horde of other tourists, including a group of outrageously bad mannered Italian school children, but they couldn’t ruin it for me.
From Galway I moved north again, into Connemara country.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.051s; Tpl: 0.012s; cc: 13; qc: 21; dbt: 0.0269s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb