11-05-2019, 04:42 PM
Day 8 - Inis Mór
We got up early, drove to Doolin, boarded our Doolin Ferry and sailed to Inis Mór, one of the Aran Islands.
Except for the part where Doolin Ferries sent me an email asking me I could sail Tuesday of Wednesday. And if I did sail on Tuesday could I come home the same day rather than spending the night? I mean months in advance tour plans are flexible like that, right?
My response to the good people at Doolin Ferries was less courteous. This is actually the second time they have cancelled a trip on me. The reason they cited for the cancellation was the weather and that they were wrapping up their sailing season on Tuesday. They won’t start sailing from Doolin until the spring.
Fortunately, oh so Fortunately, there is also a ferry that sails from Rosaveel, north of Galway. I know this because that’s where we sailed from the last time Doolin Ferries cancelled on me. Doolin is about 45 minutes closer to Limerick and you don’t have to go through Galway to get there.
I had a reservation for the night, so I made the plans to drive to Rosaveel to catch their ferry. Plus, Cindi and I both wanted to get back there. We just hoped the weather would be a bit weather.
According to the weather reports, though, the good weather ended in Limerick. C’est la vie. Especially in Ireland.
The drive to Rossaveal went smoothly. Google decided it would be quicker to cut directly though Galway rather than go around. Shocker of shockers, we right passed the Lighthouse B&B where we stayed in 2016 and I put a nice dent in the side of that rental car trying to get out of the micro parking lot.
You can’t bring your car to Inis Mór so we left it at the parking lot at the dock. We minimized our luggage from four bags to one, not counting camera bags. Our ferry sailed through a good chop to get us there. One kid standing on the top deck was surprised when a wave crested over the ship and completely doused him. I was up there for a bit to get a few snaps, but noting the wind and rain, quickly retreated down the stairs and went inside.
When you get off the boat in Kilronan, Inis Mór’s main port, you are met by dozens of men driving minivans, all vying to take you on a tour around the island. We bypassed them and went straight to our B&B, the Seacrest.
In yet another nod to tradition, this is the same B&B my father and I stayed at back in 1993. I think the current owners took possession in 2003. Geraldine, our host was fabulous.
We had taken the tour the last time and didn’t need the tour this time. But I quickly learned the only way to get the five miles from our place to Dun Angus, one of the stone age forts on the Inis Mór was to hire the guide. If it wasn’t pissing rain, I would have chanced it.
We hired Tomas to take us out to Dun Angus and to the Worm Hole, in Irish Poll na bPéist. Facebook was kind enough to tell us that eight years ago we were in exactly the same spot. Looking at the picture, you could see that we were having the same drizzly grey weather as well.
For lunch, we stopped in the saw award winning cafe that marks the start of the trail up to Dun Angus. Still stuck in the same time loop, I had the same Guiness Beef Stew. IN my defense, I’d been dreaming of this stew since we decided to go back to Inis Mór. It’s pretty good.
Stone age forts don’t change in a decade so we saw what we saw the last time in pretty much the same conditions. We hiked up the slippery trail. The wind howled around us like we were in a wind tunnel as we entered the fort. The did finally give the site guard a shed, though. It was hard to hang out and just experience the place with conditions as miserable as they were.
One poor woman who seemed to hate the fort especially because of the slick walking conditions struggled to make it out of the fort and down the path. The Queen and I took turns holding her hand over the really tricky bits.
Tomas greeted us back at the gift shop and got ready to drive us to the Worm Hole. I thought we were supposed to walk there but he told us he could drive us a little bit closer, which he did.
Tomas then got out of the van and walked us to the trail that led down the cliffs to the Poll na bPéist. As he walked us down, all I kept hearing was “Stick to the roads. Beware the roads”
The idea was to follow these red marks on the rocks because the trail was pretty invisible. It went over limestone rocks and around pools in the middle of nowhere. I quickly walk down the wrong well worn path before Tomas yelled at me to go the other way. We saw only one group on the way and they were coming back.
I’d wanted to go to this place for quite some time. Seeing maniacs dive into it off the cliffs as part of a Red Bull sponsored diving contest only heightened my interest.
It’s a natural square cut hole in the rocks through which the ocean seeps in and out of. The level of water in what looks like an oversize swimming pool rises and falls with the tides.
The path there seemed to take forever. The miserable weather conditions didn’t help. The footing became more and more treacherous the closer we got. Basically, there were pools on the cliffs you had to navigate between on slippery paths of limestone. Although, the limestone is a bit stickier than granite.
Eventually, we made it there and it was a pretty fascinating thing to see, this massive rectangular hole filled with sea water. But wind and rain and exhaustion quickly drove us away. If it was sunnier, I’m sure we would have explored longer.
On the way back, the Queen decided to get even closer to the pools. She slipped and put a foot in one. She also added another bruise to her collection. The way back was also fun because the marks to the wormhole were on the rocks facing towards the trail to the wormhole. You couldn’t see any marks on the way back. But we found our way. No werewolves.
Tomas took us back to the B&B. Before we passed out from exhaustion, we spent a lot of money at the Aran Islands Sweater Market. They had lots of nice things that cost lots of money. We picked up a gift for our house sitters.
Did I mention no Taxis? Well, we wanted to go to the most pub on the Island, Joe Watys, which I thought was across from our B&B and was the only place open to get food this late in the season. Well, wrong on both accounts, but I didn’t learn about the second until later.
As we were getting ready to walk up the road in the rain to the pub, our fabulous host, Geraldine, offered to drive us up. Thank God. We’d walked enough for one day.
The food at Waty’s was fine. We had to wait a bit for the food since they didn’t serve until 6. It was a cozy room and the Queen was grateful for the heat from the coal fire. Not as good as peat but better than nothing.
We ate. We walked back to the B&B. We slept in our really tiny bed.
We got up early, drove to Doolin, boarded our Doolin Ferry and sailed to Inis Mór, one of the Aran Islands.
Except for the part where Doolin Ferries sent me an email asking me I could sail Tuesday of Wednesday. And if I did sail on Tuesday could I come home the same day rather than spending the night? I mean months in advance tour plans are flexible like that, right?
My response to the good people at Doolin Ferries was less courteous. This is actually the second time they have cancelled a trip on me. The reason they cited for the cancellation was the weather and that they were wrapping up their sailing season on Tuesday. They won’t start sailing from Doolin until the spring.
Fortunately, oh so Fortunately, there is also a ferry that sails from Rosaveel, north of Galway. I know this because that’s where we sailed from the last time Doolin Ferries cancelled on me. Doolin is about 45 minutes closer to Limerick and you don’t have to go through Galway to get there.
I had a reservation for the night, so I made the plans to drive to Rosaveel to catch their ferry. Plus, Cindi and I both wanted to get back there. We just hoped the weather would be a bit weather.
According to the weather reports, though, the good weather ended in Limerick. C’est la vie. Especially in Ireland.
The drive to Rossaveal went smoothly. Google decided it would be quicker to cut directly though Galway rather than go around. Shocker of shockers, we right passed the Lighthouse B&B where we stayed in 2016 and I put a nice dent in the side of that rental car trying to get out of the micro parking lot.
You can’t bring your car to Inis Mór so we left it at the parking lot at the dock. We minimized our luggage from four bags to one, not counting camera bags. Our ferry sailed through a good chop to get us there. One kid standing on the top deck was surprised when a wave crested over the ship and completely doused him. I was up there for a bit to get a few snaps, but noting the wind and rain, quickly retreated down the stairs and went inside.
When you get off the boat in Kilronan, Inis Mór’s main port, you are met by dozens of men driving minivans, all vying to take you on a tour around the island. We bypassed them and went straight to our B&B, the Seacrest.
In yet another nod to tradition, this is the same B&B my father and I stayed at back in 1993. I think the current owners took possession in 2003. Geraldine, our host was fabulous.
We had taken the tour the last time and didn’t need the tour this time. But I quickly learned the only way to get the five miles from our place to Dun Angus, one of the stone age forts on the Inis Mór was to hire the guide. If it wasn’t pissing rain, I would have chanced it.
We hired Tomas to take us out to Dun Angus and to the Worm Hole, in Irish Poll na bPéist. Facebook was kind enough to tell us that eight years ago we were in exactly the same spot. Looking at the picture, you could see that we were having the same drizzly grey weather as well.
For lunch, we stopped in the saw award winning cafe that marks the start of the trail up to Dun Angus. Still stuck in the same time loop, I had the same Guiness Beef Stew. IN my defense, I’d been dreaming of this stew since we decided to go back to Inis Mór. It’s pretty good.
Stone age forts don’t change in a decade so we saw what we saw the last time in pretty much the same conditions. We hiked up the slippery trail. The wind howled around us like we were in a wind tunnel as we entered the fort. The did finally give the site guard a shed, though. It was hard to hang out and just experience the place with conditions as miserable as they were.
One poor woman who seemed to hate the fort especially because of the slick walking conditions struggled to make it out of the fort and down the path. The Queen and I took turns holding her hand over the really tricky bits.
Tomas greeted us back at the gift shop and got ready to drive us to the Worm Hole. I thought we were supposed to walk there but he told us he could drive us a little bit closer, which he did.
Tomas then got out of the van and walked us to the trail that led down the cliffs to the Poll na bPéist. As he walked us down, all I kept hearing was “Stick to the roads. Beware the roads”
The idea was to follow these red marks on the rocks because the trail was pretty invisible. It went over limestone rocks and around pools in the middle of nowhere. I quickly walk down the wrong well worn path before Tomas yelled at me to go the other way. We saw only one group on the way and they were coming back.
I’d wanted to go to this place for quite some time. Seeing maniacs dive into it off the cliffs as part of a Red Bull sponsored diving contest only heightened my interest.
It’s a natural square cut hole in the rocks through which the ocean seeps in and out of. The level of water in what looks like an oversize swimming pool rises and falls with the tides.
The path there seemed to take forever. The miserable weather conditions didn’t help. The footing became more and more treacherous the closer we got. Basically, there were pools on the cliffs you had to navigate between on slippery paths of limestone. Although, the limestone is a bit stickier than granite.
Eventually, we made it there and it was a pretty fascinating thing to see, this massive rectangular hole filled with sea water. But wind and rain and exhaustion quickly drove us away. If it was sunnier, I’m sure we would have explored longer.
On the way back, the Queen decided to get even closer to the pools. She slipped and put a foot in one. She also added another bruise to her collection. The way back was also fun because the marks to the wormhole were on the rocks facing towards the trail to the wormhole. You couldn’t see any marks on the way back. But we found our way. No werewolves.
Tomas took us back to the B&B. Before we passed out from exhaustion, we spent a lot of money at the Aran Islands Sweater Market. They had lots of nice things that cost lots of money. We picked up a gift for our house sitters.
Did I mention no Taxis? Well, we wanted to go to the most pub on the Island, Joe Watys, which I thought was across from our B&B and was the only place open to get food this late in the season. Well, wrong on both accounts, but I didn’t learn about the second until later.
As we were getting ready to walk up the road in the rain to the pub, our fabulous host, Geraldine, offered to drive us up. Thank God. We’d walked enough for one day.
The food at Waty’s was fine. We had to wait a bit for the food since they didn’t serve until 6. It was a cozy room and the Queen was grateful for the heat from the coal fire. Not as good as peat but better than nothing.
We ate. We walked back to the B&B. We slept in our really tiny bed.
As a matter of fact, my anger does keep me warm