The Day we Went to Aran

 The vaguaries of Irish hot water systems have again defeated us and hot showers were not available before bed, despite following the host’s instructions. We did have hot food and breakfast supplies, having found a supermarket within a comfortable walking distance, so we turned in with hope in our hearts and food in our bellies. 

The party next door seemed to increase in volume and enthusiasm as we crawled into bed, and continued into the early hours. It was to our combined relief that all went quiet at 1, but this was short-lived, and kicked off again at 3 am. 

The alarm at 6:45 was an unwelcome intrusion but necessary, as we had a bus to catch in central Galway at 08:45; a bus that would take us through the misty morning along the Wild Atlantic Way to the Cliffs of Moher and the Aran Islands. And the water was finally hot enough for showers. 

On the way we passed through The Burren, an area of ancient limestone hills and a unique landscape designated a UNESCO Global Geopark with its own unique microclimate. Here alpine, arctic and Mediterranean plants grow together in limestone crevices. 

Driving up the corkscrew in a large bus, meeting other traffic coming down was not for the faint hearted. As we reached the high hills, it began to feel reminiscent of our tour of Skye some years ago … ‘Over there to the right, on a clear day, you would see …’ I have to say, that feeling remained for the rest of the day. 


We do appreciate and enjoy the Irish sense of humour though, which kept us smiling despite the bleak outlook. For example,  when giving us the briefing for our 2 hour visit to Inisheer and the various means of travelling around the island, the driver’s advice was, ‘If you’ve not been on a bike for 20 years, today is not the day to rekindle your relationship with the bicycle.’

We were soon in the long queue to board the Doolin ferry which would take us to the smallest Aran island, Inis Oirr (or Inisheer). The trip was quite rocky owing to the weather conditions, but before we knew it, the island jetty was looming out of the fog.


On disembarking we made our way to the horse and carts, one of the many methods of transport around this isolated community reserved for the summer tourist influx. Sam, a stocky draught horse, dutifully took 8 of us on a circuitous tour of the island, the driver filling in the history and describing something of life there as we went. Julie and Mark disembarked for a misty walk up to the castle ruins, but we opted to stay in the dry cart. 





Back at Flaherty’s Pub Wallsy and I relaxed over a hot lunch and a much needed coffee, before going down to queue again for the ferry, and the return trip, designed to show us the Cliffs of Moher from the sea. Unfortunately, visibility was still poor and we barely saw anything of the cliffs. We were forced to rely instead on the photos on display in the information centre at the top off the cliffs, the walk to the edge seeming like a pointless exercise under today’s conditions. 



Of course the cloud lifted as we headed back towards Galway at the end of our long day, which did mean we were at least able to see some of the things we passed this morning, such as The Burren, with more clarity. 





We found yet another Italian restaurant for dinner in busy Quay st, as all the traditional Irish pubs with live music were packed to the rafters!  And then for a touch of excitement there was a little demonstration of local thuggery with some youths taking on a security guard across the road from our back gate as we arrived home tonight. 



          Too much excitement for four weary travellers! 

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