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Friday

On Inishmore, the Aran Islands

We took the ferry from Galway over to Inishmore, which was a trip not without its are-we-going-the-right-way-will-we-make-it-on-time-where-are-our-ferry-tickets drama. We did go the right way. We made it on time, but only barely. There was a situation with the tickets, but it wasn’t the end of the world. We made it onto the ferry, a different kind of vessel entirely, this time bouncing over the same types of waves. But not as big. And people still got sick.

Adam and Jessica did some shopping and relaxing. We wanted to see a bit more of the island and ride bikes. First we saw a horse:

And then I got to ride in this. People don’t believe me when I say how much I enjoy the weather, but this is the most fun kind of riding:

And since I didn’t bring any sunglasses — no sun! — I just rode in my glasses, which looked like this instantly and constantly:

My rental, an almost brand new Felt mountain bike. That’s the same company as my road bike. And while I have no desire, ever, to do mountain bike riding, this is a sweet little rig. Though it is heavy.

The other problem? I can’t see the cassette. I have no idea what gear I’m in back there!

But we got to ride on roads like this. How perfect is this?

And down here is a rock beach where the seals come in. We saw one down there, but he scurried off before we got close:

Some of the other brave road warriors that we met in the rain:

I mentioned the Burren region the other day, here’s an interesting example of the sheets of rock you see here. And, for whatever reason, the grass that grows through there is incredibly nutrient-rich for the livestock.

We rode up to one tail end of the island, until we could ride no more, and then we walked up to Dún Aengus, which has been called “the most magnificent barbaric monument in Europe.”

Three dry-stone ramparts and part of a fourth, with the outermost closing in 11 acres.

If you’ll look to the left of that picture above it just seems as if the fort is floating in the air. For good reason. It overlooks the Atlantic Ocean and dominates the surrounding landscape as the highest point on the island. No sneaking up on this place, so it was both offensive and defensive. And also possibly cultural. Or religious. And, if anything like the mainland forts, it might have also once marked a territorial boundary.

Frustrating historians and archeologists, this site was a multi-generational endeavor. The dry-stone technique doesn’t yield a lot of clues. Weathering erosion isn’t very helpful. So they looked at how the walls are related to one another, the ground plan and exposed cross sections in some areas of the walls.

That’s given them three major phases, the first was in the late Bronze Age, perhaps between 1100 and 500 BC. Around 800 BC Dún Aengus was thought to be a cultural center for several related groups. In the Iron Age, between 500 BC and 500 AD, there was a decline of activity at the site and little evidence of what may have been taking place there. There were some defensive additions made which suggests the site’s importance had diminished. People may have just moved on, for a variety of reasons. It was a busy 1,000 years in Ireland, after all.

In the early medieval period, between 500 and 1100 AD there is evidence of the final major remodeling of the fort. Quarry work made a vertical plateau. The walls were thickened. Terraces were added inside. Evidence suggests that people were living at Dún Aengus once again.

Also, you’re more than 300 feet above the water here:

I didn’t want to say anything at the time to worry The Yankee, but the thought occurred to me, at the moment I took this picture, that people could have very unfortunate “accidents” here. When I told her later in the evening she said “I had the same thought.”

We both made it back without pushing one another. So did these two ladies:

Even the lichen growing on the rocks is beautiful:

Here’s the view from Dún Aengus.

And here’s a bit of video, just to give some ambiance:

About the name of the fort. In Irish mythology, Aengus — Óengus (Old Irish) or Áengus (Middle Irish) — is a member of the Tuatha Dé Danann and probably a god of love, youth and poetic inspiration. The Tuatha Dé Danann a race of people in the invasions tradition of Irish mythology the fifth group to settle Ireland, conquering the island from the Fir Bolg, whom we also learned about at the Cliffs of Moher. It is all starting to come together now, right?

The name Aengus stems from a Proto-Celtic origin, and if you’re really brave, Wikipedia will get you started.

Nearby were more cattle:

And then more riding. The rain stopped when we weren’t on the bikes and continued again for awhile when we got back in the saddle, almost like magic. So I chased her around the island some more:

We saw other tourists and locals alike. The next few shots are just of people pedaling:

At the far other end of the island we found a field of rabbits. I took several pictures in this sequence and tried to put them together. It isn’t quite right, but it is interesting:

More to the middle of the island again we passed the Lucky Star Bar, which looked like it hadn’t been lucky in some time:

The most prominent cemetery we found on Inishmore:

More of those beautiful rock walls that dot the landscape:

And this path isn’t on the map, nor is the ridiculous ridge we rode across trying to get over to the other side to see the ocean:

But here is the route we took, minus some scary and fun off road portions:

By comparative standards, a contemporaneous church:

Sadly turned our rental bikes back in. I grew to enjoy this thing pretty quickly. It was heavy, but great on hills. You could really sling it around well, and the shocks were a big novel fun:

After we vainly tried to dry off we walked back passed the closed Lucky Star Bar and found there were new tenants:

And we headed to Joe Watty’s pub, one of the view options on an island of 870 people. (There was also an “American restaurant” in a hotel that apparently came off like the 1980s place in Back to the Future III, just a hodge-podge, and full of locals.) This place was packed too. Our host told us that there was a big local sports and youth festival this weekend and tonight they were crowning the island’s pageant queen. It was all going down in Joe Watty’s, which became shoulder-to-shoulder and chest-to-back packed.

The food was delicious though. We realized we’ve eaten incredibly well in Ireland, despite a few too many desserts. The food has been good and not processed and hearty and I want it every meal.

Tomorrow morning we’ll have breakfast with our B&B hosts and then catch a ferry back to the mainland. We’ll drive back to Powerscort in Enniskerry for one more night before this incredible vacation has to, inevitably, come to an end. We’re having a blast. And going to start looking for jobs here.

We’re only slightly kidding about that.

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27
Jun 13

On Inisheer, the Aran Islands

They tried to warn those good people. Sadly, those good people would not listen. Two of them never returned.

Kidding. They are fine. Except one of them would later become terribly sea sick.

We boarded a ferry called the Happy Hooker — and, yes, everyone gets the joke — and headed over to Inisheer, the smallest of the three Aran Islands in Galway Bay.

We were ready for more adventures, and enjoyed some smooth sailing:

Not everyone was pleased. There was some sea sickness. Fortunately our group held it together.

We had tea in a pub right off the pier, if for no other reason than to warm up. And then we went out walking. It is only two miles long and a mile-and-change wide. You can walk everywhere. And you’ll see this:

Lots of this. I only wish there were someone around to tell me how much time it took to build a rock wall like this. And where they brought the rocks from. Probably the answer to that one is “Right about where you’re standing.”

Some of the enclosed spaces are holding animals, mostly cattle:

This one mooed …

And that is the first time in her life she’s been next to a cow mooing, so she’s happy.

It is also only the second time she’s heard it. (The first being the other day in Cashel.) No matter where I’ve taken her, no matter the time of day, the cattle we’ve seen have always been full, bored or scared. Her first moo in her entire life.

Historically, this place goes way back. The first settlers of these three islands, according to legend, were the Firbolg, who landed here to escape invaders. There is a burial mound dating back to around 2000 BC and archeological evidence that they perhaps came from, or visited, Scotland. The Firbolg were the people that predated the Gaelic gods, so your mileage may vary.

This is an 11th century church, home to the congregation of the most narrow shouldered people in the world. At one time the islands here were a destination among religious pilgrimages, so this tiny little stone building probably saw a lot of visitors. You can’t go in without turning sideways.

This is Dún Formna, one of seven stone forts on the Aran Islands and the only one on Inisheer. The name means “the fort on top of the hill” and so it is. The person who rain the island sometime after 400 BC is thought to have lived there.

Things have changed, but not everything. Less than 300 people live on the island. Agriculture and tourism are the big economic drivers. This is famed as one of the places where Gaelic is still spoken as a living language. The Irish send their kids over during the summer to learn.

After lunch in the same tavern — if you have the opportunity to order Irish stew, order Irish stew — we got on a different vessel and headed for the Cliffs of Moher.

Some people didn’t care for the waves:

Others didn’t have a problem:

Here’s that rock that juts out into the Atlantic all defiant, and filled with thousands of birds:

The Cliffs … of Insanity!

I got photo-bombed. Good to know that has spread to everywhere:

And on the little spit of land just off of Doolin, as we returned, you see this. It is one of the frustrating things about the trip. There is so much history — and so much of the truly ancient stuff the experts are understandably just guessing at — that things like this can be overlooked. This was a fireplace. Someone tried to keep warm by that during howling winter nights. And then, one day for some reason they stopped. The roof fell or someone died or they got sick of it or there was a job or a woman or … you’ll never know. This sort of thing is quietly sitting everywhere in rural Ireland, overwhelmed thousands of years of history.

I made a little video. It is from our ominous and spooky ride on the ferry up to the cliffs. We wished it had been clear, but the fog gives it a great deal of character, too.

Tonight we are in Galway, a city of about 75,000 people with a bustling tourist and entertainment district downtown, where we walked and ate tonight. It is the third largest city in the country and the first city we’ve seen in a week.

We’d rather be back out in the middle of nowhere.

Tomorrow we’ll catch another ferry and head over to another of the Aran Islands. Should be great fun!

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21
Jun 13

Welcome to Ireland

Our plane left Heathrow late, after a long run. We ran. Because, you see, the flight attendant announced “Gate 8 E.” We went to this gate. Fifteen minutes before the flight was to leave there were no airline employees, no passengers and no planes.

We were on the only terminal in the free world without departure screens, too. So I walked down aways and found horrifying information. Our flight was actually departing from Gate 80.

English.

So we ran. And then we got on board. I thoroughly made a big show of the entire ordeal. And the plan was late.

But we arrived on time in a funny-how-that-happens way. We landed in Dublin, in what felt like the oldest terminal in the free world. It had screens with departure and arrival times.

We made it through customs, The Yankee going first as always. She answered the questions and I was next. I said to the border agent “Same things she said,” which amused everyone except the weary man working in his weary both.

We got our stamps, though, and then picked up our rental car, a process just as thoroughly devoid of joy and efficiency in every country, it seems. We set out, once again questioning the ability of the GPS to get her there.

It was about here, I think, that we finally changed the GPS voice. We’ve been using an Aussie. We looked for an Irish brogue, but had to settle on an English woman. So the GPS, given to this new personality, must be renamed. I’m sure we’ll figure that out soon enough.

We drive around Dublin on the interstate, which feels new, through countryside that is beautifully rural and undeveloped despite being so very near the city proper. It felt like we drove around the entire city. Mostly because we almost did.

We arrived at our hotel and got checked in. Hey look, this hotel has a television in the bathroom:

Who needs that? Who cares? I have a television in my bathroom.

We went to visit our friends, Adam and Jessica, who are joining us on the trip. Only Jessica didn’t know it. Just a few hours before they’d gotten engaged at a picnic in the gardens of Enniskerry, now they have to have us tag along. She was excited to see us though, so that, happily, went over well.

After a while we looked up, saw the sun and realized it was 9 p.m. And we still had to find dinner. Everything in Enniskerry is closed already. There is a pub in our hotel. Their kitchen had just shut down. But the waiter brought us a room service menu, and four sleepy, hungry people were saved.

Two guys were getting ready to play music a few booths away. We’ve been in Ireland three hours and there’s already a pub, a burger and Irish music.

After a few songs one of the patrons asks “Is it too early for Whiskey in the Jar?” It is never too early for Whiskey in the Jar.

They were fine performers, despite my too-dark photograph and hasty iPhone recording. It was a delicious burger. Our friends, who just flew over from the States today, are happy and exhausted. Tomorrow we set out to drive the bulk of the entire countryside.

For now I’m going to go watch weird Germany game shows. On the television in my bathroom.

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21
Jun 13

The clocks of London

We had a great time walking around in London. I noticed, for whatever reason, that they have a lot of clocks on display. Here are a few of my favorites.

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21
Jun 13

Buckingham Palace

We watched the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace today. The queen was in residence, so we’re basically standing in her driveway. That doesn’t get old, I’m sure.

Also in the driveway is the Victoria Memorial, which was dedicated in 1911 by George V and his first cousin, Wilhelm II of Germany, to their grandmother, Queen Victoria. There is a statue of her in the fountain:

This one is meant to be the Angel of Truth:

This one is meant to be the Angel of Justice:

This one is meant to be the Angel of Charity:

The symbolism of these seems to be lost to Wikipedia, but the top feature is thought to invoke Peace and Victory.

There is a marching band playing at the changing of the guard. They did martial tunes, traditional English songs, a bit of Over There and some Adele.

What you didn’t see in this video is the cavalry. And all cavalry should look like these guys. No one’s storming the gates on them. (Also they got their own police protection, which seemed odd. But this is Britain these days.)

Enjoying one last afternoon tea before we continue our travels.

To the train! To another train! To the airport! To the terminal! To the wrong part of the terminal! To a hike, with luggage, so long that they hang signs that tell you how many more minutes you have to walk!