The road trip continues, and I can’t wait to torture you with more excessively long slide shows…
We’re on the road from Limerick, and we’re trying to perfect the art of crappy windshield photography. Most of the things we see aer captured almost too late- like this sign. Can’t we take this left, and forego Galway? I’m certain that we won’t be disappointed.
Boston is not in the cards for November, and instead we carry on into Galway as night starts to fall. The sun’s going down, and it would appear that green is the color of Connacht Ruby. And Heineken. There’s a big match on tap for tonight.
Hey cool! We are stuck in traffic along the docks we come upon LÉ Aisling, an off-shore patrol vessel based out of Galway. What can I say? I’m a sucker for haze gray floating things.
Galway is a neat small town located on a sheltered corner of Galway Bay. Here the river Corrib empties out onto the bay, and this river is my favorite feature of the city.
Here’s why I like this area- the river has always got fantastic, frantic movement.
I suppose that I could show you photos of the town itself- but really, you just need to go hop on a plane and check it out. You can even hang out next to this rather Disney-esque statue of Oscar Wilde, courtesy of an Estonian artist. I didn’t say it was supposed to make sense.
Or how bout this? Rory and I wanted to hear some trad, so we ducked into one of the more famous pubs in the pedestrian zone to listen to an impromptu jam session. (Check out the chick “playing” the bodhrán, she spends the whole time looking for the beat…and never does find it)
Now this looks cool! Brown bread ice cream (and check out how the flavors and descriptions are written in two languages). Sadly, after two trips to this place, we did not get to try out this flavor; apparently it is quite popular. Guess who’ll have to go back to Galway? I think Rory would happily oblige and come with me.
Speaking of food, have I communicated to you how well we have eaten on this trip? It’s true.
On our first wake up in Galway, I decide to head out for a morning run along the Salthill promenade- or “the prom” as it is called. All of this great food and stout is not going to be worked off in a car, and I get a little antsy when I neglect my running kicks for too long. The thing with Ireland is that the sun doesn’t show up much on these winter days, so rolling out of bed and starting a run at seven o’clock feels a bit like a twilight run. Cool.
As I’m out along the ocean, it’s peaceful and largely deserted. The navy blue starting point that I was greeted with slowly lightens as I watch the new day emerge from the east. No one’s up but me and God. I love it.
As I’m making my way around the prom, I see to the far right a stone like thing sticking up. The great thing about running in new places is the unexpected exploration that you get to seek out (often this means “getting lost and where the Hell am I?”). This point doesn’t look too far, so I start to head towards Galway town to check it out.
About a mile later, I arrive out on a finger extending into the harbor. This plaque is pretty cool for me, especially considering that some of my “tombstones” come from Galway. I can only imagine that they had this very view when they left Ireland over a century ago.
I get back from my run, and Rory and I get set to head into County Clare in order to check out the sights that people most associate with this country. We’re hoping to God that it’s not going to be another gale-force day, because in this part of the world, it’s all about the view.
South of Galway, we take the side road that brings us past Kinvara. Our first pit stop has us getting out of the car and enjoying undisturbed scenery that looks decidely fake. Kinda like those hideous Thomas Kinkade paintings.
Dunguaire Castle. This is a big stop on the tour bus circuit, and it’s exciting that we have the place almost completely to ourselves at 10am in November.
I have too many photos of the same thing that I want to share. It’s only because you jou just don’t see this kind of beauty every day. Which I guess is what makes this place so special.
Back on the road, we are bound for the Cliffs of Moher. Rory’s driving, and I’m doing my best to sift through the many potential stopping places along the way. My sister is willing to go just about anywhere, which is really great when I spy that we’re going to pass a place that I have always wanted to check out. Time to leave the “major” roads for some less major ones that probably aren’t roads…
Have you ever traveled somewhere because a poem told you to do so? That’s exactly why I wanted to make it out here to the Flaggy Shore. It was so worth it, Rory and I both agreed.
After my self-indulgent detour, we start to snake up the hills in order to make our way to the cliffs. The view is breathtaking at every hairpin turn. Luckily, there are small pull-offs where you can park and take a photo.
At last we reach the Cliffs of Moher. I’ve been here three times I think, but this is the first time since they’ve put in the protective wall that keeps damn fools from eliminating themselves from society. Sad, but probably necessary. It’s a beautiful day, and we are in awe as we wander about.
Be it the Sagamore Bridge, or the Cliffs of Moher- you can always count on the Samaritans to post a “Don’t do it!” sign directed at those in need.
If you are not impressed by what you see out here, then you are an utterly hopeless soul. Go and give the Samaritans a call.
Moving on, we stop to check out the famous passage tomb known as Poulnabrone dolmen. It’s wicked old. Like, Neolithic old.
One more stop in our crazy car tour of the county! I do love celtic crosses, and I wanted to check out some slightly newer stuff than the dolmen.
Now modestly taking up real estate in a pasture, this cross dates from the sixth century. I can’t even wrap my brain around these dates!
I forgot to mention that this area of Clare is known as The Burren. I’m not a very good tour guide, but I wanted to show you in the distance these lines crossing over the hills. These are famine walls. Long ago built by local workers, they serve no purpose at all- they were simply employment schemes that were largely funded by philanthropic organisations as a means of providing an income for the starving locals. Nice, huh?
Meanwhile, back in Galway proper….
Sup, guys? You wanna come with us to Connemara tomorrow?
