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Tour of Ireland | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Aran Isles, the Burren & the Cliffs of Moher |
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| On your marks, get set... | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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| I think it�s important to know that when visiting Galway and especially Dublin, you may feel a little let down if you are coming to Ireland expecting little whitewashed, thatched roof cottages surrounded by dry stone walls and rainbows, because none of these exist within the cities. Part of why these places I think seemed so ruddy at first. But rural Ireland is different � and Inismore, the Big Island of the Arans, is about as rural as it gets. It was a very rough crossing, most of the people got sick, I didn�t, felt more like a pirate! RRRrr.. We didn�t quite know what to expect out there, as everything we had seen so far was fairly contrary to what we had expected. Once we arrived, I was |
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| A view over Inismore from Dun Aengus | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| pleased to find that the landscape was everything I imagined it to be. It was when we were given bicycles and a map that I sort of panicked. The main objective here, as is in most cases where you are presented with navigational equipment and a mode of transport, is to get from point A to point B. But when you put those things together combined with me, who hasn't ridden a bicycle in since a disaster involving the ice cream man some 13 years ago and 3 miles of uphill terrain in between the two points, you find that they don't always go well together. So began the battle of me versus the two-wheeled pedal apparatus that was supposed to get me to the other side of the island in decent time (we had to make sure we could get out there and back before the ferry left again), trying to breathe and not get lost. I of course was kicking and screaming and cursing about .25 miles into my journey. Tears rolling down my cheeks, which you couldn�t see as the heavens decided they would open and release a lovely downpour right on my non-jacket covered body. I was wobbly, sick, very cold, and unable to enjoy the scenery because I was to busy being upset about being wobbly, sick and cold | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| and how shoddy biking. After awhile we reached a spot of level ground from which we could actually see Point B, the Iron Age hill fort Dun Aengus away on the horizon. Suddenly it wasn�t so hard anymore, suddenly I was Lauren Quinsland, master biker of the Aran Isles, suddenly I was 10 years old on a bicycle off to explore yelling �look, no hands!� and chasing sheep and it was FUN! Once we reached the base of the hill we had to park the bikes and then hike a good distance up a hill to the fort, hence the term hill fort. It was magical walking in, like some triumphant entry after a battle, we swaggered in soaking wet, tired and panting and extremely happy. The fort itself is ruins, and while you�re inside it, you don�t realize just how very large the fort is. And when you lay on the ground and look down at the sea crashing down on the steep cliffs, the gusts fly up in your face and you feel like you are flying. Then you forget how uncomfortable the bicycle seat is or how much work you did to get there of how you almost turned around a grabbed a taxi and hated it so much. It�s just you and the rocks and seashore and its perfect. We gulped down lunch and took a few pics, hopped (quite gingerly) back onto our bikes praying that we would be back in time for the ferry. But somehow the return journey seemed about half as short, half as hard, a million times more fun and about twice as wet. | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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| Above: the sea crashing at the base of the cliffs at Dun Aengus produces wind gusts that fly up and often knock over unsuspecting visitors - so naturally, we stuck our heads over the side... Below: the Cliffs of Moher, also notorious for improvisational diving competitions if you aren't paying attention... |
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| Moher adventure... | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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| After our very eventful and terribly wet day, we headed down the west coast to Kilarney, stopping off at a place called the Burren. It is absolutely amazing, just miles upon miles of just limestone and dry-stone walls with little clumps of short grass her and there, scattered with little purple flowers and the odd sheep. Beautiful. Much more how I picture Ireland than ruddy old Dublin. We also stopped at the Cliff�s of Moher and got blown around a bit by the gusts (well, not really, but it was very strong winds and a thousand foot drop-kind of scary). The cliffs were quite nice, when you didn�t have blowing in your eyes and a thousand tourists pushing you precariously close to the edge. | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| O'Brien's watchtower over looking the Cliffs of Moher | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| all photos by Lauren Quinsland | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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