Monday, April 25 Inisheer and Cliffs of Moher

Up early for our "cruise" to the Aran Island of Inisheer. We check in with Bill O'Brien's Boat Tours (not to be confused with Kevin O’Brien in the cubicle next door) then run for coffee and hot chocolate before we board. It’s a chilly 40-minute trip, but we sit outside (freezing) in the bow not wanting to miss a thing.

Hmmmm

Inisheer in the Distance

Pony carts await us offering guided tours, but the wind is chilly and the carts offer no shelter. Bro-bro makes a 10E deal with an Irishman driving a minivan who will show us around. Another couple joins us, (I am convinced she was Ali McGraw). She and KC share the backseat and bond over Paris experiences.

First stop is the remains of St Cavan’s Church. Surrounded by an ancient graveyard the roofless church sits in a pit. Cavan is said to be the brother of St Kevin whom we met in Glendalough.

Tekoe the dog runs alongside or in front of the minivan throughout our tour. He’s an island resident who does his part to make the tourists feel welcome. He knows the route by heart and energetically leads the way.

Tekoe the Tour Dog

The Home of Larry the Leprechaun

O’Brien’s Castle, or what’s left of it sits high on a hilltop. Cromwell is responsible for the ruins. His troops attacked the castle in 1652. Looking to the north from the castle grounds we can see the Napoleonic Tower, built as a lookout to watch for the French in the 1800’s.

We drive on narrow lanes alongside a montage of green fields outlined by rock walls. A gate in the wall is a smaller pile of stones that can be removed to gain access and then rebuilt to reclose the fence. Over the centuries the islanders made the land arable by layering sand and seaweed on the rocky soil. Talk about diligence and determination. Today, it’s farmable.

In the distance sits the skeleton of the An Plassey. She was wrecked in a storm on Finnis Rock in 1960. The Inisheer Islanders rescued the entire crew one person at time. The ship is rusted but whole and sits farther up the shore where it was hoisted by a later storm. A remarkable reminder of the power of the sea.

Tour ended we order soup and fish stew at Tigh Raurai Pub and sit in their courtyard to enjoy the sandwiches we packed. The fish stew is the real deal made with potatoes, carrots, shrimp, clams, mussels and calamari not long from the nearby ocean.

KC and the kids take a stroll on the beach while we wait at the pier watching Dusty the dolphin cavort in the harbor.

Dusty

A group of school kids arrive to spend a week immersed in the Gaelic language. It’s the main language spoken on the island although they make exceptions for the English-speaking tourists.

Proudly Showing His Hurling Stick

Our boat takes an alternative route back to Doolin. We cruise alongside the Cliffs of Moher as they rise 600+ feet above the Atlantic Ocean. A formidable sight that stretches for five miles. The cliffs look directly into the force of the Atlantic and have been shaped by tide and storm over the centuries.The boat bounces and dips as the waves crash the cliffs and at one point hits a trough and our feet lose touch with the deck. Of course we are outside on the top deck because we don’t want to miss a thing.

On the sea stacks birds line the ledges. Thousands of birds nest here April through July, most are members of the Auk family. The Guillemot comes to shore only to nest, spending the rest of the year at sea. They lay their eggs directly upon the rock ledges without benefit of a nest. Puffins abound here. They also spend their winters at sea and come here only to raise their chicks. The birds line the ledges and dive and swoop around us. They are intent on fishing and pay us little attention. We give them lots in return.

We dock at Doolin’s teensy port and drive back to the Cliffs of Moher. We’ve seen them from below now we will see them from above.

There is a unobtrusive visitor’s center built into a hillside, which we bypass for the moment to walk up the slate stairs to the viewing areas. The slate is punctuated with the preserved swirls and squiggles left behind by tiny sea creatures when the slate was just sludge on the ocean floor.

The cliffs provide a majestic panorama against a blue, blue sky. It’s possible to walk out atop the cliffs without benefit of walls or fencing. After viewing posted warnings of wind gusts and crumbling soil we decide to enjoy the view from where we are.

The visitor’s center provides a video: “The Ledge”, a gift shop and numerous interactive exhibits. In a separate building there is a meditation room. We spend an interlude inside with our thoughts.

 

Back in our Irish cottage, Anna surprises us by fixing dinner. She has the table set and everything ready for a tasty treat of a meal. Well done!

We are rallied for an evening at Gus O’Connor’s Pub. Although we are weary and dragging our feet we are very very glad we made the effort.  The musicians are scheduled to start at 9pm. We order drinks while we wait and discover that Nana is rather fond of Smithwick’s premium Irish ale.

We find a table next to the musicians and have a front row seat and the opportunity to chat between songs. There are two flute players, a fiddler and a concertina(ist?). And at one point the spoons come out. The musicians are all over 50 but still take the opportunity to flirt with KC. After we’ve listened for a while she tells them it’s getting late and we will be going. We are advised that we should stick around until the singer arrives. And we are very very glad we did. The singer is Ted McCormac who comes in on crutches, necessary because he has only one leg. He sits on a stool and booms out with no need for a mike one Irish folk tune after another in a deep, rich baritone. We are mesmerized. A top highlight of the trip, and/or life experiences in general. Hats off to Ted McCormac.

Our favorite: Eileen Oge the Pride of Petravore

Eileen  Oge! an that the darlin's name is,
Through the Barony her features they were famous;
If we loved her who was there to blame us,
For wasn't she the Pride of Petravore?
But her beauty made us all so shy,
Not a man could look her in the eye,
Boys, 0 boys! sure that's the reason why
We're moumin' for the Pride of Petravore.
 
CHORUS:
Eileen Oge! me heart is growin' grey
Ever since the day you wandered far away;
Eileen Oge! there's good fish in the say,
But there's no one like the Pride of Petravore.
 
Friday at the fair of Ballintubber,
Eileen met McGrath the cattle jobber,
I'd like to set me mark upon the robber,
For he stole away the Pride of Petravore.
He never seem'd to see the girl at all,
Even when she ogled him underneath her shawl,
 Lookin' big and masterful when she was lookin' small,
Most provoking for the Pride of Petravore.
 REPEAT CHORUS:
So it went as it was in the beginning,
Eileen Oge was bent upon the winning;
Big McGrath contentedly was grinning,
Being courted by the Pride of Petravore.
Sez he "I know a girl that could knock you into fits."
At that Eileen nearly lost her wits,
The upshot of the ruction was that now the robber sits
 With his arm around the Pride of Petravore.

REPEAT CHORUS:
 Boys, 0 Boys! with fate 'tis hard to grapple,
Of my eye 'tis Eileen was the apple,
And now to see her walkin' to the Chapel
Wid the hardest featured man in Petravore.
Now boys this is all I have to say;
When you do your courtin' make no display,
If you want them to run after you just walk the other way,
For they're mostly like the Pride of Petravore.
REPEAT CHORUS: 

Toes tapping we find our way to bed.

There's a Flute in that Wooden Box

Ted McCormac