Up and at ’em. Breakfast. One last pack, as we depart the business class airport where the airline stashed us after putting more important people on the previous day’s flight. We get out to the lobby to the shuttle to find … the shuttle is full.
So the hotel calls us a cab, which shows up right away. He takes us directly to the door we needed to enter, which was significantly closer than the shuttle drop off, so that worked out well.
Go through the ticket process, sadly find out they won’t be delaying us again for another handful of Delta dollars, discover every broken e-ticket kiosk for your convenience in Dublin. Deal with humans. Fine. Off and on we go. Airport security. American pre-clearance, whatever that means these days:
More security. It feels like we’re already back in the land of the free and we haven’t even left Ireland.
Down to the plane and on with a few minutes to spare, but not many. We’re on our way to JFK.
Update: A few hours later we landed uneventfully. It was a far better flight home than a flight out. Catch up on the latest news while waiting for forever to pick up our bags. Stand outside on the curb and watch the height of free civilization in the self-proclaimed greatest city in the world behaving stupidly toward one another.
We’d been back 20 minutes and already longed for the quiet of the Irish countryside.
Now we’re resting up at the in-laws, telling tales of our travels, slightly amazed at all we’ve done and seen these last few days. What an adventure.
Room service for breakfast, and then the last packing of our things, this time for airline inconvenience. Funny how that little detail means everything must change.
We settled up at the hotel — Adam and Jessica had their flowers preserved from their engagement, the local photographer he hired had already produced a DVD with all of their photographs, so they came home with everything. People here are so incredibly accommodating — and went down the hill into Enniskerry for lunch.
We finally settled on eating at the same little pub were we dined before starting our trek across the country. And as a last meal here I had the fish and chips. And it was the best fish I’ve had in all of our adventures in London and Ireland. So light and crispy:
So we ventured on out to the airport, dropped off our trusty rental car at the lot far removed from any airport activity. They shuttled us over to the terminal, which looks a lot different than I remember from the other day. Because we are in a different place.
We’re standing in line and a lady comes up and asks us if we’d like to catch a later flight. They incentivize that, you know. We bantered some numbers, checked our mental calendars and finally got to a deal that everyone liked. We were demoted to standby. And we might make this flight, or we might be taking a different plane tomorrow.
There was a long period of “will we or won’t we?” Adam and Jessica left because they had a tighter schedule than we did.
We did not make the flight The airline put us up in a business traveler’s hotel, shuttled us there and comped us some hotel meals. The hotel was fine for what it was, high ceilings, weird lights, post modern design. The food was reasonable. There was nothing around except light industry, so we stayed in the room all evening, watched television and calculated our Delta dollars.
So we have one last day in Ireland. In a hotel that offers not much to do. There are worse ways to make travel money.
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!
