So we’re back at the Ritz-Carlton on the Powerscourt Estate in Enniskerry. You remember, a week ago we were here and we had a television in our bathroom mirror. We can’t afford a Ritz, and are clearly out of our element. We cashed in a lot of hotel points. The place is amazing.
There are two shower heads in the shower, one above you and one for the body. The shower is made of marble, and so is a perfectly echoed singing chamber. The television in the bathroom mirror, well, ours didn’t work at first, but they fixed it.
Also the wallpaper was peeling and there was a definitive wear pattern in the carpet. We want our money back.
Adam and Jessica though, of course, had the nicest suite in the joint. They’d just gotten engaged there nine days before, after all. And, despite there being a wedding going on at the hotel that very evening, despite their week long absence, they were still the talk of the entire hotel. We had a good time pointing out how inferior our amazing room was compared to their rooms. They had two entrances, and almost as many square feet as our house. The place is incredible.
Here is one of the lesser chandeliers:
Everyone is amazing. Gordon Ramsay has a restaurant in the basement. The pool was cut out of the earth with Swarovski crystals, and then lined with better Swarovski. The beds are all feather down. The window shades have remote controls. You can set the thermostat by the door or from the remote in the nightstand.
And here’s the mountain view that commands the surrounding area:
So the place is amazing. Down the hill in Enniskerry we had dinner at one of the three or four restaurants there. It is a small little village, all surrounding a square. The grocery store, which we also visited, is like a middling convenience store back home. But everything else has a dignified air of yuppiedom to it.
We saw a lot of cyclists shredding their legs on the hills. And, in sympathy, we spent most of the day at the pool, repacking bags and eating cookies. It was a good time for a day like this. After so many days of vacation we all realized we needed a little break.
Life. Is. So. Hard.
What a great trip though, and it is a terrible shame that it has to end tomorrow. We’ll get up, have breakfast here and lunch elsewhere and then be on our way to the airport in Dublin for the long flight back to the States. The trip will end, the memories and the scenery and the jokes and all of the wonderful adventure of will just play in our heads on a loop for a while. Two friends got engaged, we realized we should have counted how many times we said “Wow” at every incredible view these amazing landscapes offered and we had a nearly perfect trip, all planned by The Yankee.
I don’t think she’s willing to hire herself out to plan your itineraries, but if you offered her enough money she’d make you an awesome one. You’d see all the best places and come back with a lifetime of memories. She plans a great trip.
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?
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.
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!
The most appropriate sign for the day, and it was a subdued one. All of this that you are about to see is stunningly gorgeous. And we’d ruin it with fences in the United States.
The Cliffs of Moher are on the edge of the Burren (meaning “Great Rock”) region in County Clare.
They top out at 702 feet above the Atlantic here at O’Brien’s Tower and receive almost one million visitors a year.
The cliffs take their name from an old fort called Moher that once stood on Hag’s Head, to the south. It was demolished in 1808 and the present tower near that site was a lookout tower during the Napoleonic wars. O’Brien’s Tower? It was built in 1835 to impress girls. Some things never change. Also, how hard to impress were 19th century women? Look at the view!
Thousands and thousands of birds live in the cliffs — that rock is a popular spot — and they are said to come from more than 20 species, like Atlantic Puffins, hawks, ravens and more.
This is the most popular tourist site in Ireland. Again, not hard to see why.
They were featured in the Potter films …
… and most importantly in The Princess Bride. The Cliffs of Insanity!
What happens when one person makes a nice face and one person makes the Facebook duck face:
Can anyone say Christmas card?
The sun was just about to set on us and The Yankee said the Cliffs were the place to be. She is so often right.
The Burren is a whole lot of limestone. They can just pull up slabs of it and stack it into a vertical fence. O’Brien had these particular ones built in the 19th century and they’ve been reinstalled today. They are holding out the growth for the pedestrian path. You look over those rocks and there are a few feet of wildflowers — more on those in a moment — and then it all just falls into the ocean.
They’ve traveled over most of the southern half of Ireland now and they still like each other. I think they might make it.
Because it is limestone, and because of the water, there are a lot of caves in the local cliffs. Perhaps that is one down there. This is a big area for cavers and climbers, though we didn’t see any today.
You don’t see them all here, but I did learn today that the Burren region — which ranges for about 250 kilometers — is exotically varied in its flora. You can see arctic, Mediterranean and alpine plants all close by one another here. They all have to meet up somewhere, one supposes.
I bet she got a good picture. If she didn’t, I did.
That’s the path on the top of the cliff, by the way. There’s nothing preventing you from falling to the ocean below. They say that a strong gust of wind can do the job if you are standing too close to the edge. I am only a tiny bit skeptical of that.
If you can stop looking at the rock and the birds below you can see the Aran islands off in the distance …
If you continued looking south you might notice an area of disturbed water. Legend has it that this is the location of Kilstiffen. The ancient city sank when its chieftain, in battle, lost a golden key that opened the castle. The story goes that the city will not be restored until the key is recovered from its unknown location. Local storytellers will say the city’s golden-roofed palaces and churches can sometimes be seen shining below the surface. Once in every seven years it rises above the waves. Those who catch a glimpse of this city will die before it appears again. Spooooky.
There’s a reef nearby that features submerged forests and bogs. There was an earthquake and tsunami at the turn of the 9th century, and that might help play into that legend.
Enjoying watching the sun fall into the ocean.
Just two weeks ago local officials opened their new 12-kilometer Cliffs of Moher Coastal Walk, which boasts some incredible scenery. It takes walkers from Hags Head outside Liscannor Village, over these beautiful cliffs and down into the village of Doolin, where we are staying tonight.
You read the signs telling you about the trail — “changes suddenly to a remote, challenging and demanding trail, with no barriers, handrails or seward fencing. Trail features include an exposed cliff-top path, steep ascents and descents, and narrow/steep flagstone steps. The trail may be rough and uneven in places with loose gravel and stone.” — and you realize the difference in American lawyers and Irish lawyers.
The little segment of it that we walked, here at the high point, featured this fun little staircase:
We had such a great time here. There are so many pictures, the ones above, more in the video below, and just a perfect evening with glorious weather.
I sent this little video home from the cliffs. You may enjoy it as well.
More playing around with video at the cliffs:
This one has many more pictures than you just scrolled through, stuff I shot between Dingle and Doolin on the day’s ride. The music is more of the local sound we heard in Dingle town.
Tomorrow we’re going to take a ferry to one of the Aran Islands, and then we’re going to see these same cliffs from sea level. Can’t wait.
We decided this morning that our current host is like the Irish grandmother we didn’t know we had. The rooms are a bit small, and the WiFi has the curious ability to stop at our front door, but it is clean. The gentleman of the house, Tim, is a retired police officer. His guardia station can be seen from the dining room window. A 30 second commute, he said. Mrs. Eileen made a delicious breakfast and fussed over us continually. One of the other current guests, she said, has been coming to visit her every year for a decade. It isn’t especially hard to see why. You’re just dropping by to spend a night or two with an old friend here. It is lovely.
We went out for a bicycle ride today. Here was our route, zoom in and follow along:
This is just under two miles into the ride and we’re just getting started. We met some nice folks from the D.C. area and swapped pictures with them. Figured it would be the sort of thing where we leap frogged one another all day, but we only saw them one more time.
Here’s a lovely little waterfall we found in Ventry, just under five miles into the ride:
That waterfall is very close to the Dunbeg Fort, or Dun Beag, which is dated to about 2,500 years old. There’s a sign here that quotes National Geographic “one of the very few oldest historical monuments that we have left in this planet.”
So, being history nerds, we started counting things older. Never mind that now, though:
She does handstands at forts and on beaches and other interesting places:
And planks. (She’s taking them back.)
The fort consists of four ditches and five mounds, with dry stone masonry. It was originally a straight rampart, but later work made it circular. There were guardhouses and the remains of a square Clochaun, a dry-stone hut with a corbelled roof, a building technique common in this part of the country’s history. There is also a Souterrain, or a manmade cave if you like, that likely dates to the Iron Age. It was probably used for storage, refuge and passageway.
There’s an active geological fault here, the signs say, which has contributed to some erosion of the original earthworks.
And various reasonable yoga poses, merging old forts with old fitness disciplines in the world. Because she can:
Off to the other side of Dun Beag:
These next several are in the Slea Head area, when we were about 10 miles into the ride. Adam is beginning to think this activity disagrees with him:
Here’s a little more local history:
Is this not the coolest piece of road? A different version of this picture is going into the headers on this page and is presently the image on my home page, too:
We took a lunch break at the Great Blasket Centre, which is full of hardscrabble history. There’s still quite a bit of ancient Gaelic culture in this area, they say.
We found the Reasc Monastery about 20 miles into our journey. It is thought to date to the 6th century and featured seven of those Clochaun huts, six of which were arranged in pairs for the monks’ residences, you’ve just learned a bit about. There is a graveyard with 42 graves and the remains of a slab shrine.
There was a small church oratory here, of course. The area around it was used as a children’s burial ground after the monastery was abandoned.
It is important to note, when you see those Clochauns, or beehive huts, that the re-creations, or remains, honor an important part of the shared European heritage. During the dark ages, places like these huts were where the educated people, typically high ranking church members, lived. These were the people that played a significant role in keeping literacy alive.
You can peer at the walls of the monastery and see what was original and what had been reconstructed by archeologists. (There was a tarpaper layer noting the difference.) And if you wonder where the original stones went, my guess would be into the walls that mark pastures everywhere. here.
At least 10 of these types of slab stones have been recovered from the site. The cross inscriptions of the Reask stones also feature spiral designs and the letters DNE, which you can only barely make out here perhaps. The abbreviation is for Domine, which is Latin for “O Lord.”
This is the Kilmalkedar church, a 12th century structure on a sight that is religiously important back to at least the 7th century. Some of the artifacts here go well beyond that, even. The Hiberno-Romanesque church includes a nave and chancel. The chancel is thought to have been a later addition. The Saint’s Road, a pilgrimage trail to Mount Brandon, passes between the church and the nearby house of St Brendan. There’s a prominent medieval cemetery here, a sundial, cross slabs and this holed ogham stone.
Some literature suggests that stone had been there nine centuries before the church went up, some of the engravings support that idea. It marked a grave, which has suggested that this was holy ground even in the pre-Christian era. The hole was drilled through so people could come to seal a deal—standing on the graves of their ancestors and in front of the house of God by touching thumbs through this stone. People renew their wedding vows there, too.
You go into the church through this romanesque doorway. It has three orders and a round head with a projecting hood made from red and green stone. The keystone is a carved head. As we learned at Cashel these head carvings often had a role in warding off evil spirits. So perhaps this one was a sentry as well:
We finished our ride with a long, easy 300 foot climb as the sun set over Smerwick Harbor. In 1580 600 Italian and Spanish troops (sent by the pope to aid a rebellion) surrendered here to the English, and were slaughtered for their trouble. Have a nice day!
Here are several extra shots from the day’s ride, mixed with music we heard with dinner last night:
We coasted back into Dingle town, got back to our B&B and cleaned up for dinner at The Dingle Pub. After all of that bike riding, 29 miles and almost 1,000 feet of climbing, on rental bikes he was beat. He kept saying “I do not know what is happening.”
