Inis Mór

Once again the other Arcadia kids and I had a 7:00 wakeup on Saturday for departure at 7:30 to Galway and thence to the largest of the Aran Islands. Bageled and watered we set off into the misty, morning sunshine. About an hour later we were settled into the larger bus and soon beset by the NUIG students and then a large group from another school. Forty-five minutes later and we were on the Connemara coast and boarding our ferry. Initially lacklustre, the ride soon became a lurching, giggle-inducing sojourn across cresting waves glittering with diving seafowl.

Arrival at Kilronan pier.

We arrived at Kilronan on Inis Mór, disembarked and wandered through the throng to one of several bike rental shops. Grace and I set off with Liz (NUIG) and pedaled up the first few hills on our own. We were soon caught up by a few other NUIG students and Game of Thrones alumnus Paul Monahan, our guide for the day whose hangover seemed to be as substantial as his beard. We parked our bikes and hiked the steep trail to the highest point on the island, the ring fort Dún Eochla. Signage by the neighboring lighthouse ruin claimed the fort was closed, but no one was there to chase us off.

The climb up to Dún Eochla.

Inside the ruin.

Passages through the ruin.

A lone horse.

Playing with focus.

Paul Monahan appears in a window of the ruined lighthouse.

Portal tomb by Dún Eochla.

Dún Eochla, atop the wall.

We climbed the walls of Dún Eochla and surveyed the whole island. The climb up (and down) was precarious, but the view was fantastic. We soon continued on our way. A car passed us at one point, and a pebble was thrown from a wheel and directly into my eye socket. I was frankly astonished that I did not suffer a cruel dismount. After some adrenaline-fueling declines, we stopped off for lunch. Soup and brown bread never really gets old. The sun was out and the day was genuinely lovely, perfect weather for the climb up to Dún Aonghasa, the island's "main attraction." As if the bike there were not enough of a workout, again we trudged uphill over rough terrain, towards a reward that would turn out to be worth every step.

Coastline seen from Dún Aonghasa.

Welcome to Dún Aonghasa.

Dún Aonghasa.

Paul suggested we all look over the cliffs, but advised that we lay down and poke our heads over. Once we were near the edge it was clear to see why. The sheer drop met the breakers at 100 metres below, and the wind flew up the sides so that a discarded pebble flew upwards into the sky above us. So high above the water, and with the expanse filling my field of view, I felt as if I were seeing the ocean in its true majesty for the first time. The clouds were shifting, and patches of sunlight and shadow spotted the sea miles out.

The Dún Aonghasa cliffs.

Spots of sunlight over the Atlantic.

Hiking back down from Dún Aonghasa.

The hillside.

We returned to our bikes and turned back for Kilronan. We took the seacoast road, which was much flatter and easier. Paused at a viewing point for a seal colony and saw a few of them popping up over the waves. Parked again to see Teampall Chiaráin, a ruined church with a pre-Christian healing stone beside it. A hole is carved in the standing stone, and the idea is to pass a piece of clothing through it and enjoy renewed health. I have been enjoying both an uncharacteristic bout of vitality and a characteristic lack of superstition, so I just watched as a few others forced gloves and scarves through the little portal.

Spotted a few heads popping up.

Grace leaning on the healing stone by Teampall Chiaráin.

Before long we were back in Kilronan. We received our deposits for safely returning our bikes and wandered the pier waiting for the ferry departure at 5 pm. Most of the shops were closing, and I had determined an Aran jumper was not a necessity, as I am already laden with more than enough sweaters. Instead, Liz and I found a dog who seemed intent upon playing fetch with a piece of sandy, saliva-soaked wood. I obliged, and did not touch anything else until I had washed thoroughly. 

Tearing it up.

Playing fetch as we wait for the ferry.

We boarded the ferry, this time sitting on the upper deck. It was cold, but downstairs was full and the view was incomparable. Halfway across we spotted dolphin fins. I leaned against the railing the whole way, looking down at the water like crinkled carbon paper. I heard singing below, and discovered later that an obscenely drunk Polish man dressed as a pirate had been leading the downstairs passengers in song the whole way back.

I did not buy one. Plenty of time to return, but I hear they are cheaper in Galway...

Departing Inis Mór.

The bus ride back to the Burren was long and full of nodding heads. A lot of my muscles were complaining as per usual, but we got back safely just after 8 pm. Having had no hot water on Friday night, it was bliss to enjoy a steaming hot shower. I was too exhausted to stay up for the Lord of the Rings marathon we had planned, but luckily so was everyone else, so that has been postponed until further notice (i.e., next weekend). Back to the grindstone this week for my first few critiques. Hopefully my effort shines through in my work, because I am more than ready for these projects to conclude.