Given that the last two times I came to Ireland I visited the island of Inishmore [Inish Mór], I felt compelled to make it out there on this trip as well. I really enjoy going out to the smaller islands because it's a completely different experience from the cities and towns. Staying on the islands for a few days gives me an opportunity to meet some of the locals and learn more about the area. Island life is usually very different from that of the mainland - slower, more rugged, and the communities are tighter-knit. The isolation and weather have a great impact on the way of life, and for some reason this appeals to me.
I had intended to stop on Inisheer [Inish Oír], the smallest of the Aran Islands, for an afternoon to wander around a bit, and then head to Inishmore. The timing of the ferries, however, was such that I had to stay a night on the island if I wanted to see anything. No problem - there is a hostel there.
The day I arrived, I walked around the labyrinthian stone walls from the south shore to the north shore of the island. The number and density of the dry stone walls is truly an amazing sight. I couldn't help but think of the amount of manpower required to construct all these walls - it is absolutely staggering. I heard more than once that I shouldn't wander around too much when it's dark because it's quite easy to get lost.
The main things to see on the island are O'Brien's Castle [Caisleán Uí Bhríain], the ruins of a 16th century tower on the highest point, the holy well of Saint Enda [Tobar Éinne], patron saint of Aran, and the wreck of the Plassey on the southwest coast, a cargo ship that crashed into the island in the 1960's. There are some really interesting photos of islanders rescuing the crew of the Plassey in Tigh Ned, a pub conveniently located next to the hostel. Another sight on the island is the small 10th century church of Saint Cavan [Teampall Chaomhain], patron saint of Inisheer, that is sunk into the ground in the graveyard. I missed it because, well, I didn't realize it was sunken and I couldn't see it from the road. I guess that leaves something for me to see when I go back.
After wandering about the island for the afternoon, I stopped at one of the pubs for a pint and dinner. Sitting next to me around the fireplace was a group of students, or more accurately, ex-students, as they had just completed their law degrees in Galway. After we finished eating they invited me to join them for a drink. When one is in a foreign country, one cannot refuse such an offer without risking offense, so I happily accepted. After a Guinness or two, we left to head to Tigh Ruairí, the second of the three pubs on the island, where we stayed quite late - the Guinness and Black Bush [whiskey] didn't want to stop flowing. I learned a fair bit about Irish law that night, but oddly cannot remember any of it.
The following day, I planned to catch the ferry at around 15h00. The timing of the ferry was different every day due to the tides, so it took a while to find out the correct time for this one. For the ferry on the way over to the island, I asked three different people - people who should know - and was given three different times. I arrived at the ferry at the earliest of the three and only had to wait an hour or so. This time, I asked the skipper of the ferry when he'd be back, so I had a bit more faith in the timing.
So I had the day to hike around a bit more, which I took advantage of by walking along the road down the north coast of the island. When I arrived back at the village, I heard this beautiful voice singing in Irish coming from a little shop, so I stopped in. It was a small craft shop with Aran sweaters and other craft-y things. I talked a bit with the guy running it - about my age - a local whose parents own the shop. We chatted about music and a bit about the island, and I bought a copy of the CD that was playing - An Raicín Álainn by Lasairfhíona Ni Chonaola - a woman from Inisheer. [I just discovered on her site that the guy I was talking to is her brother MacDara. A week and a half later, I was in Galway at the supermarket, perusing and pondering the vast array of frozen pizzas, when someone called out 'Hey Canadian guy!. It was MacDara, but not knowing his name, I responded with 'Hey Inisheer guy!' and we talked more about the islands and their relation to the mainland. Ireland's small.]
The ferry was at 15h00 and I was all packed and ready to go at 14h00, so I thought I'd sit outside at the pub next door and have a pint. It was a beautiful day and there were two men and a woman sitting outside having a chat, so in typical Irish fashion, I joined them. Two of them were musicians who had played a session the night before here in Tigh Ned's - the one pub of the three the group of ex-students I was with didn't make it to. One of the musicians said "There's going to be music here tonight - you should stay." I replied "OK", finished my pint, and went back to the hostel to check in again.
I met up with a guy named Shane who is Irish, but lives in England. He had a flight the next day from Shannon airport, but was convinced to stay over as well. He ended up checking into the hostel, where we met Konrad, a young Belgian guy I'd met briefly in Doolin. That evening the three of us headed to Tigh Ned for a few drinks. I was sitting at the bar thinking how perfect everything was - I could see a great sunset out the doorway, I had a perfect pint of Guinness in front of me, good company, and the music was great. Then in walked a group of about twenty women, and I knew I must have been taken by the Tuatha Dé Danann. A hen party! On Inisheer!
After dancing with some of women from the Galway hen party, and consuming too many drinks, I was kidnapped [against my will, I assure you!] and taken to some random house where they were staying. Poraig, the owner of Tigh Ned drove us in a little van, probably because it was the only way to get them out of the pub. After the all-night party, I was glad that it was light out so I could find my way back to the hostel, otherwise I would have wandered for hours and probably curled up behind one of the walls for warmth - the wind was pretty biting at night.
The next day, Konrad and I met up with one of the musicians and went to a Gaelic football match between The Aran Islands and Barna. It was the first time I'd really watched Gaelic football and I quite enjoyed it. It's a very fast moving game without a lot of stoppages, as in other sports. I imagine you'd have to be pretty fit to play. The Aran Islands won, though no one seemed to know the score, and everyone convened down at Tigh Ned's to wait for the ferries. Thinking about transportation and island life, I wondered if Shane made it to his flight from Shannon, but I highly doubted it.
I met up with the hen party at one of the pubs - they were still partying - and saw them off - some by plane, some by ferry. I spent the rest of the day wandering around a bit because the weather was so great. In fact the weather had been spectacular since I arrived on the island and was one of the reasons I stayed so long. I was going to Inishmore from here and wanted a couple of nice days there too, so I decided to take the ferry the following day. I spent a quiet evening, wandering out to the wreck of the Plassey at sunset and soaking up the atmosphere.
Konrad was also headed to Inishmore, so we boarded the ferry and headed off. After a nice ferry ride around Inishmaan [Inis Meáin], I found that arriving in Inishmore was a bit discouraging - definitely a move back into tourist-land. There's a long pier and down the right-hand side is a long line of little tour busses offering tours of the island. This was my third time on the island, and I could see it getting worse as time goes on. By the time the twentieth guy asks if you want a tour, you feel like saying "If I wanted a tour, wouldn't I have taken one of the first nineteen offers?". I understand that the islanders have to make a living somehow, but the way tourism has developed there, even in the last seven years, is a bit off-putting.
I checked into the Kilronan Hostel, also conveniently located next to a pub, and met Dave who was running the hostel. Dave's a very laid-back guy, originally from Cork, who used to sell photocopiers before deciding to change direction and manage a hostel in Galway. He has a great system worked out whereby he comes out to Inishmore a couple of days a week to run Kilronan Hostel in order to give the regular guy, James, a break. Through Dave, I met a couple from Winnipeg, Canada, Renée and Dave, who lived in Galway, and the three of us sat outside at the pub all afternoon, watching the tourists disgorged and inhaled by the ferries. The evening brought a bit of 'music' outside, though after they'd 'played' each song five times, it started to wear thin.
I had to make my pilgrimage to Dun Aenghus, so I went along with Renée and Dave on a little bus tour. Well, it wasn't so much a tour as a bus to Dun Angus and back, stopping at The Seven Churches. "There's the post office. There's a school. There's a church. Oh, here we are at the tourist trap. I'll leave you here for three hours, and come back to get you once the next ferry has arrived and I can load up again." I guess that's what I get for being lazy and not renting a bike or walking.
Dun Aenghus is a spectacular place. It's a shame that they've commercialized it by adding an entrance fee, an 'interpretation centre', a fenced-in path up the hill, and a growing number of craft shops and cafés. To be fair though, it probably had to be done to protect the site and to capitalize on the tourist dollar. The first time I was there, you could just walk up to it from any direction and wander around. It was February and I walked from Kilronan through the fields and along the coast, not on the road. I came over a little hump and saw Dun Aenghus on the hill above me with dark winter clouds hanging above it. It radiated age, wisdom, and power. Maybe it was the weather, maybe because I was alone, or maybe because I walked there and it was the reward for the journey, but it was an enchanting place.
After wandering around the fort and sticking our head over the cliff to look at the drop to the ocean, the three of us had soup and sandwich at the little tearoom, and then waited for the bus. On the way back to Kilronan, we took the coastal road, which was quite nice because I hadn't been that way before. Back at the hostel, we settled in for a pint or two, had dinner at the hostel, and enjoyed a relatively quite evening in the pub. I hadn't seen Konrad since we'd arrived because he had met a Polish girl, but they showed up for a drink along with an American couple they'd met along the way.
The next morning, Konrad's new friend took the early ferry and he was a little despondent. He cheered up by the time we, along with Renée and Dave, caught the afternoon ferry for Galway. On to new adventures!
