Top of the Edge of the World

The six day tour of the Republic began in Dublin, but the first day consisted of making a direct beeline for the West Coast. So, in one day, we traversed the entire lattitude of Ireland with not many breaks. It was also the day where we saw the most rain (all fifteen minutes of it) in a downpour on the bus. We stopped at the Hill of Tara, the crowning point for the ancient Celtic kings. We also hit up the Locke's whiskey distillery at Kilbeggan. There was also Knock, a town where the Church officially recognized an apparition of the Virgin Mary and now a pilgrimage site for many Irish. The night was spent in Westport, and a fine evening was had at the world famous Molly Malone's, where we were regaled by an astonishing traditonal Irish singer, doing acapella versions of Irish folk songs. I swear, it was like listening to the ancient lyrical ballad singers of yore and a truly magical experience alongside a few Guinnesses.

Day two began with some more magic. It all started with a climb up Cloagh Patrick, the mountain where St Patrick is reputed to have banished the snakes from Ireland. This climb was no mean task, as it gradually sloped steeper the further up one went. But, after a pretty strenous climb, (and certainly with a few thoughts of quitting), will power got me to the top. And it was well worth it, as the view of the peninsulas, islands and coast lines was like a photo from space. Here they are (note how the wind at the top seems ready to push me over the edge - collar breezing, face frozen, legs akimbo to steady myself).



















The major part of the day (in addition to recovering all afternoon) was driving through the beautiful valleys of the Connemara. This portion of the trip really reminded me a lot of Scotland: the wild and remote country roads, the breathtaking greens and the silver sunshine playing on the rocks. Some of the photos came out really nicely. Here I share a few.





















As if all of this wasn't enough, we stopped at Dog's Bay and played a little football (soccer) on the beach. Yours truly scored two goals...barefoot even. I still have marks on my feet from that one, I tell you.

Galway was a magnificent town, massive and collegiate. Late nights and traditional Irish dancing. Yours truly thought very hard about giving it a try, but the nature of it made me think twice. See, it wasn't the rhythm of it that daunted me. I could pick that up very quickly. It's just that there were about a dozen people there who knew what they were doing and they seemed to follow about fifty different rules, including flying around the dance floor. I knew that if I jumped in, I would only get in the way. Next time, I come armed with lessons.

The third day saw the fantastic Cliffs of Moher. You may have seen these on a postcard somewhere. Nonetheless, I don't even think my camera did them justice because the depth of them can't really be conveyed. You have to see them for yourself. Basically, I felt really wary of stepping too close the edge. Now I know how Jimmy Stewart felt in Vertigo. Here are futile attempts to get across their scale.






To offset Galway, we spent the night at another coastal town, the tiny Doolin (3 pubs versus like 97), the home of traditional Irish music. We crammed into a tiny pub where everyone packed in and whiled away the hours listening to a beautiful Celtic voice sing of yore and heart break. I swear, the kid playing the pipes looked like he was eleven and played like he was eighty-seven.

I must leave it at that point - but the final update will include the single most beautiful stretch of coastal land I have ever seen.