Tonight’s exciting adventure picks up on last Saturday morning, the 10th of September. In an effort to find a grander adventure than the one we had on Friday, Chelsea, Scott and I decided to spend the day on the Aran Islands, specifically, the largest island, Inis Mor. So at 8:30, we left the warmth and calm of our apartments to walk downtown to Eyre Square, where buses leave from, and we boarded a bus run by the ferry company to get to the ferry port about a half an hour away. I was seated beside an excitable woman from Pennsylvania, near the Philadelphia area as a matter of fact. That tenuous connection between us was still enough for her to keep up a conversation for the bulk of the time. Upon arrival at the port in a small town, we three students boarded the ferry and passed the time quickly with good conversation (a staple of travel I’ve discovered). Forty-five minutes later we arrived on the blustery island where we visited the tourist information center to procure a map and determine an itinerary. We decided to rent bikes for the day and bike on a hilly road through the middle of the island to the castle ruins on a cliff, and then follow a downhill path along the coast on the way back. The ride was gorgeous, albeit, tough. Clearly I am no longer in the same kind of shape that I once was in. However, that was the day that the remnants of a hurricane were to hit the island, and the wind soon started blowing us off course. For a time, rain pelted our faces as if someone was shooting a Beebe gun at us.
But the ride was worth it because of the rough and wild landscape that was dotted with thatched-roof houses, cows, and icons of the Virgin Mary and the Crucifixion. We finally reached a car park that was at the base of the hill where the castle ruins reside, and we stopped for a late lunch. Chelsea and I ordered a fantastically tasty beef and Guinness stew topped with mashed potatoes that warmed us to the bone and prepared us for the walk up to the ruins (Scott got lasagna, just in case you were wondering).
We were not anticipating the steep walk to the ruins, and as we climbed, the wind and the beauty of the views intensified. By the time we reached the top, I was literally being blown over, though I never fell over completely, being a sturdy 140 lbs (thank goodness for that!). The ruins stretched out quite far into the landscape, and walls still stood from the late Bronze Age! The remaining walls were in rings, and upon entering the inner-most ring, you enter an opening that abutted the sheer cliff that I was just too frightened to get to close too considering the strength of the wind. Someone in the group there threw an empty coke bottle towards the cliff, but the wind riding up the side of the rock wall picked it up, and as everyone watched, it rose a good twenty feet in the air and then flew backwards over the walls and out of sight. The power of wind is remarkable sometimes.
Chelsea wanted to look over the cliff, so she got down on her belly and army crawled to the edge, were she marveled at the drop (87 meters we found out later) and I watched her anxiously. After about a half an hour, we agreed upon descent. At the bottom we stopped to read about the history of the ruins at an indoor museum and then decided that it was the time to head back to catch the last ferry in time. Unfortunately, we tried to leave on our bikes at the same time as a group of about 50 German high-school-aged students and as we flew down a hill, we realized how scary it is to ride in such a large pack with little control over your speed, so we stopped and waited for them to pass us. By now, the sky was starting to look threatening and the waves were getting large. The wind was howling something awful as well! So we rode back towards town with all haste prompted by nervousness. After what felt like ages, we arrived back at the port, returned our bikes and even had time to stop in the store that sold masses of the famous Aran Island wool sweaters. I will admit that I had to get one; a nice green with wooden buttons that has already kept my marvelously and stylishly warm. The ferry ride was the last one of the day at 5 pm, and it was over packed with no seats to be had. Many people stood as we sailed across the choppy waters. On the bus ride back to Eyre Square I was once again seated next to a chatty partner, but this man was a lifelong resident of The Island headed into Galway for a visit for the night and pelted me with questions about the states (you live near Boston?! I have family in Boston!). He was a fisherman and was only too happy to tell me about his six-week old son named Liam is was just starting to smile. I was glad for the company to keep my occupied, because at this point, I was so cold and wet and tired that I tried not to think about the walk back to our apartment from Eyre Square. However, made it we did, where all three of us demurely entered our apartments to throw ourselves on the couch. Luckily, my friends weren’t up to going out, and we had a lovely girl’s night that never required me to leave the couch as we watched P.S. I Love You. All in all, it was an excellent day.
My photos and descriptions will never do The Island justice and you should visit it yourself if you ever can. People are very friendly, and the scenery makes you want to stop and take a picture every couple hundred yards. Additionally, you should partake in Beef and Guinness Stew if you ever get a chance, because it is marvelous when you’re cold and wet. I hope you get a chance to do all those things and more!
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