Ireland, 2023 – Inis Meain and a lost romance

June 18-20, 2023

Inis Meain, the middle island, is a very different island than Inis Mor and Inis Oirr which are very organized for tourist visits with bicycle rental places, pony and trap rides, gift shops and cafes, etc. I knew that ahead of time and was happy to be the only passenger to disembark onto the island on the late afternoon sailing. I was met by my host’s lovely daughter who welcomed me at the pier with fresh baked scones (which made six as I had four with me!). Now a nurse working in Galway, and home for a visit, she grew up on Inis Meain and proudly gave me a quick tour of the island which I appreciated. Then she dropped me off at the very cute “200 year old renovated cottage” that I had been so looking forward to staying in. Before entering, she introduced me to Paisley, my donkey neighbour next door.

Cait oriented me to the cottage and lit a wood and coal fire before saying goodbye. It had been a pleasure to meet her but the moment she left I felt deflated. I loved the rustic cottage – I appreciate rustic and simple – but it was damp! Especially the bedroom where the mattress and linens were very damp. Why the heck didn’t I call the host and say so?! Aaargh! The couch and its afghan were damp. The chair cushions were damp. Every soft surface in the cottage was damp to the touch. Okay, time for dinner I thought and then I’ll feel better. I had brought some groceries as there is only one small shop on the island and it was closed on my arrival day. I boiled up a sliced carrot, a bit of broccoli and cauliflower, and some green beans as I hadn’t had any vegetables or even anything resembling dinner for almost a week. Then I read for a while on the damp couch and kept the fire up hoping that would help but it didn’t throw much heat. It was a long evening!

I climbed up to the loft where there was an unmade single bed beneath a skylight. A twin-sized duvet there was slightly less damp so I brought it down to the couch and decided to sleep there in front of the fire with all of my clothes on. It wasn’t very comfortable and I slept fitfully. I switched to the bedroom part way through the night but lasted only five minutes then went back to the couch. Awake at 3:58 a.m. I gave up on sleep, made coffee and toasted a scone, and read until the sun rose. Then, worst of all, my diarrhea was back. I felt devastated and exhausted and panicky and thought, “there’s no way that I can spend three nights here.” I started googling but then decided to take a walk to clear my head and calm down.

I walked past the island’s lovely church, and then Synge’s cottage, a summer home of Edmund Synge who was a well-known Irish poet and playwright. A trio of cows wondered why I was up so early!

I reached Dun Chonchuir, a large 1st century BC elliptical-shaped ring fort built up on the highest point of the island.

Once inside, it was surprisingly large. Some of the outlines of inner dwellings had been repaired and partly rebuilt in 1880.

Like many other ring forts, the outer defensive wall was stepped and terraced on the inside to allow access to the top and I climbed up carefully for more views of the interior space,

as well as views out over the island.

From there, I next visited a small ancient clochan which was half-hidden amongst nettles and brambles. Clochans, or beehive huts, are small stone dwellings with corbelled roofs. I crawled through the tiny door, less than a metre high and half a metre wide, and felt like a spoiled whiny baby to be so upset with my miserable night when I had had the comfort of a soft (though damp) couch, modern clothes, a hot shower and a hot breakfast! I imagined sleeping in here. People had to be so much tougher back then!

The sun rose higher as I made my way to the western side of the island past fields, a few farmhouses and old cottages (some with thatched roofs), and several walled gardens planted neatly with potatoes, grain, onions and greens.

Then I reached Cathair Synge, or Synge’s Chair, where the poet liked to sit and watch the large waves roll in from across the Atlantic and crash against the cliffs of Inis Mor. I could hear the loud roar today of those crashes from across the water and remembered that roar from a visit to Inis Mor’s Black Fort where huge waves had crashed hard against a perilous section of undercut cliffs. Huge storm waves of up to 14 metres can hit the western edge of Inis Mor and shift limestone boulders as big as houses!

I continued past Synge’s Chair, careful of my footing on the uneven and cracked limestone pavement. There was sea thrift to admire, pretty in the sun even though the flowers had faded to brown from their earlier bright pink, and fossils of shells and crab carapaces to examine. Then I reached the sheer cliffs of Inis Meain. What a sight!

Farther along the coast here there are several blow holes but it was best for me to turn back so I started the return journey to my cottage and enjoyed more views of the island as I walked. I spent a few moments sitting in the cool, silent, and symmetrical beauty of the island church which was now open, and I visited the ivy-covered barely-discernible ruins of the Teampall Seacht Mac Ri, an early Christian church. Beside it was the grave site of Saint Kennerg (St. Cinndeirge) who was the daughter of a King of Leinster. Her grave and a nearby holy well were sites of pilgrimage for centuries and were “held in great veneration by the islanders.”

Back at the cottage I was tired and still feeling a bit discouraged but definitely calmer. I decided that I would tolerate one more night in the cottage and leave a day early to travel to Athlone in order to be able to do a boat cruise down the Shannon River to the monastic settlement of Clonmacnoise – another much-anticipated activity that I had not yet been able to book as the cruise dates did not match my itinerary. I considered finding different accommodation on the island for the night, but as everyone knows everyone I did not want to embarrass my hosts with talk of a damp cottage! I washed a load of laundry, had a few crackers with cheese and an apple for lunch, and visited with Paisley as I hung up my laundry on the line.

Then I headed out to visit the rest of the island’s sites and sights. It was turning into a gorgeous day, windy and sunny and fresh, and although I was very tired I was also happy to be here. I walked past village houses towards the eastern side of the island and uphill on several narrow flowery lanes to arrive at another stone fort, Dun Fearbhal.

Unlike most ring forts this one was built in a square shape rather than a circle. A teenager was installed upon the wall enjoying the beautiful view of the island down towards the old pier and beach. From Galway, he was visiting his grandfather and said that he loves coming back to the island often and that this fort was his special place. I could see why! Like so many of the people I had met in Ireland he was open and friendly and sincerely interested in who I was and why I was there. I loved talking to him but didn’t linger so that he could enjoy his quiet time in his favourite place on a beautiful afternooon.

I started to make my way down hill, heading towards An Tra Mor, the beach below.

On the way down I could see the remains of Cill Cheannannach, an 8th-9th century church surrounded by grave slabs. (In the bottom left corner of the photo is an example of the kind of trough that the farmers here build to hold water for their cattle. The inclined plane of stone adds to the volume of rain that is able to be collected on an island where there is little surface water available.

This small early church would have had a wood-framed roof and the only natural light inside would have been from an open western door and the small eastern window.

Here is a view looking back at the church and up to the square fort.

And then I neared this amazing beach and the turquoise-coloured sea.

From atop some limestone boulders, and zoomed in, I could see a father or grandfather watching over two boys playing in the sea. The beach was surprisingly immense.

I walked out onto the sand and started down the length of the beach.

This was my view forward more than halfway along,

with views back to the father and the boys. What a beach!

I sat on the sand for awhile, gazing out to sea, and watched several terns fishing for their supper. Then I carried on, off of the sand and onto a section of limestone pavement where three oyster catchers were very upset with me as I walked along. They circled and complained and were likely nesting in the area so I tried to look as harmless as can be. A good-sized flock of cormorants weren’t happy with me either and folded in their outstretched wings and retreated to the water when I tried to approach for a photo.

I continued on along the coastline wanting to get to the dune-backed beaches that I had seen from the ferry but the limestone pavement ended and the shore became bouldery and hard to navigate in my fatigued condition (it would have been fun otherwise!). So I returned to the pavement, once more annoying the poor oyster catchers and cormorants, and then I rose up above the beach to a beautiful area of grasses and wildflowers.

The views here, near and far, were spectacular and I felt both elated and exhausted at the same time. While down low taking photos I really should have given in to the temptation to just lay down and have a sleep on the soft grass in the warm sun!

I started to head back towards my cottage but decided instead to turn and continue in the direction of the dunes,

and I was happy when I spotted them in the distance.

Luckily I had asked Cait about the dunes and she had driven that way and pointed out a white arrow on a post which marked a lane that would lead me around to the far end of Inis Meain’s small airport runway and into the dunes. It was so beautiful!

The wind was waving through the tall grasses and it was a joy to walk on the undulating narrow path. Several side trails led to the bouldery shore,

and then finally one led me to this gorgeous sand beach. Wow! I wanted so badly to walk to its end to see what was around the corner,

but I was just too tired so I sat for a few moments and watched a fisherman in a currach as he pulled up and then tossed a lobster trap back into the sea before continuing on. Look at the colour of that water!

It was definitely time to head back and the last site that I wished to visit on Inis Meain was thankfully located directly on the way back to the cottage. Here are photos of the Carrownlinsheen Wedge Tomb, also known as the Bed of Diarmuid and Grainne. Dated at between 4000-2500 BC, it is the oldest known human-built structure on the Aran islands.

I returned to my cottage and forced myself to eat a small meal. Fewer veggies (which my tummy had not liked) (Paisley enjoyed getting most of my carrot), some instant rice, and a can of sardines for some protein. I brought my clothes in off the line as well as two bath towels that were now fully dry and would serve as buffers between me and the damp mattress and duvet. I had decided to sleep in the loft on the less-damp bed and would just have to be very careful coming down the ladder in the middle of the night. I was worried about my lingering illness, but happy with my long day on Inis Meain, and I went to sleep long before the evening light had faded from the sky.

And the “lost romance” in this post’s title? I can’t tell you how many times I have googled “Irish cottage for sale” in the last five years or so. Now, I must admit, reality has trumped romance. Although, …. I know that there are ways to keep those old cottages free of damp. Perhaps a little romance is left after all.

Ireland, 2023 – On to Doolin and the beautiful Aran islands

June 16-18, 2023

I left Portmagee to travel on four different buses to Ennis, and luckily had time at each of my transfer stops to have a bathroom break. My tummy was beginning to settle but I still wasn’t eating much more than a couple of scones, a banana, and a few crackers each day. I enjoy travelling by bus with nothing to do but enjoy the passing scenery and it was actually a restful day. I settled into my bed and breakfast right away and did not walk out to experience the medieval centre of Ennis town. Unfortunately I had to make the decision to cancel another much-anticipated activity that was planned for the following day – a seven kilometre hike in the Burren on the Mullaghmore Trail. It would have required several bus rides to get there, plus energy for the hike, and sadly I just wasn’t up to it. Here is an image from the internet as I didn’t get to go there! (Photo from barnabynutt.com)

What an amazing landscape! Yet another reason to travel again to Ireland! Because I skipped the hike I was able to travel on an earlier bus to Doolin, a place that I had visited on my last trip to Ireland and a gateway to the Aran Islands. I arrived at the comfortable and cozy Rainbow Hostel and received a very warm Irish welcome.

My hostess, Carmel, was so kind and offered to do my laundry and to drive me to the pier the following morning. I loved talking with her and with Susan, an Irish woman on holiday from Amsterdam, and I enjoyed hearing the two of them speak together in Irish. I’ve heard a lot of Irish spoken on this trip! I did nothing all afternoon except chat, read, nap, and enjoy a very dramatic electrical storm right above the hostel that flashed lightning, boomed thunder, and released a torrent of rain! In the evening I went on an easy walk near to the hostel along a country road to visit the ruins of an old church and a small stone circle.

It was a lovely walk in the cool rain-washed air and there were views across hay fields to the beginnings of the Cliffs of Moher in the distance.

The Killilagh Church was built in the 17th century and its cemetery continued to be used until the middle of the 20th century. It was very peaceful and there were many Celtic crosses marking the graves.

I continued along the road as it led straight towards the sea,

and turned for views back towards Doolin.

I noticed that the birds were very active with their calls to each other, possibly discussing with some excitement the fantastic storm that had passed. I walked all the way to where the road ended and did not see the ring of stones anywhere off to my right in the fields. Disappointed, I turned to walk back and continued looking, now to my left. Halfway back, and losing hope, I met a Doolin resident getting her 10,000 steps in and she knew where the stones were so I turned again and walked with her back towards the sea. She pointed out the location, about 30 metres beyond where I had stopped before! The “ring of stones” was actually the Teergonean Court Tomb. Court tombs are the oldest Neolithic tombs in Ireland and date from the early- to mid- 4th millennium BC. They get their name from an open court in front of the tomb entrance and the tombs were normally covered by long cairns of stone. It is believed that a large and prominent stone on the horizon, a glacial erratic, influenced the placement of these stones into a meaningful alignment. It was tangibly an ancient and very special place and I felt honoured to be there to experience it.

The next morning, after a good sleep, I was ready to head to Inis Oirr for a four-hour visit and then continue on to Inis Meain for a three night stay in a 200 year old cottage. The Doolin Ferry company had new boats, an improvement over the somewhat rusty one I had ridden on five years ago when I had visited Inis Mor, the biggest of the three Aran islands.

The trip to Inis Oirr, the smallest and closest island, was a quick fifteen minutes, with views of the cliffs of Moher in the distance and then views of the island with its gorgeous beach, blue-green water, harbour buildings, and hilltop castle and tower.

I had booked a bicycle, and the proprietors kindly stored my big pack for me so, feeling excited and energized again for the first time in days, I set off to explore the sights of the island. Like Inish Mor, this island is a continuation of the Karst limestone topography of the Burren and it is criss-crossed with miles and miles of dry stone walls. I had loved my time on Inis Mor and was very happy to be back to visit another of the Aran Islands. On my first stop I walked down a grassy lane to see the island’s small brackish lake – seawater seeps into the lake from fissures in the limestone.

I continued on to the remains of the MV Plassey, a large cargo steam freighter that was wrecked in a storm off Inis Oirr in 1960. All eleven crew members were rescued by the islanders who also helped to salvage the cargo. The huge rusting wreck was strangely very beautiful!

From there I cycled towards the island’s lighthouse. It was very fun to ride a bicycle and much faster than walking, even though I do usually have to get off and push on the uphill stretches! The lighthouse was like a magnet in the distance,

and there was an interesting approach to it along a long straight road hemmed in by tall stone walls.

On the return trip back up the road I noticed a gate in the wall which enabled me to walk along the rocky shore to photograph the lighthouse from different angles. It posed marvellously, as did the obliging clouds! What a gorgeous day to be on Inis Oirr!

On the walk back I became distracted by some tiny yellow star-shaped flowers and I continued to enjoy finding and photographing flowers as I pushed my bike back uphill. There were so many daisies blooming on this island!

My next stop was O’Brien’s Castle which was built in the 14th century within a ring fort believed to date from 400 BC. The castle was a three story tower house for the O’Brien family who ruled the Aran islands until the late 1500s.

I enjoyed walking around all four sides of the tower and exploring the inside,

but the real draw today was the views in all directions over the island. This view shows some of the multitude of wall-enclosed fields,

and this view (left photo), over to the next hill, shows the remains of a signal tower, built in 1804 that was part of the extensive network of towers built by the British during the Napoleonic wars.

After the hilltop visits I zoomed on my bike downhill to what was perhaps my favourite stop on the island, Teampall Chaomhan, the 10th century St. Kevin’s Church. Built near the sea, over the centuries it became buried by drifting sands until it was excavated and revealed by the islanders who continue to maintain the site. It was very unique and beautiful.

Nearby was the Cnoc Raithnoghe, a Bronze Age burial mound, dated at 1500 BC, which had also been buried under the sands over time. It was excavated after discovery and the finds included decorated pottery urns, cremated human remains, and a small bronze pin.

There was still time before my ferry to Inis Meain so I cycled towards the western side of the island to visit Cill Ghobnait, also referred to as An Teampall Beag (The Small Temple). Dedicated to St. Ghobnait, and built in the 11th century on a site in use since the 6th century, the church still features its original stone altar.

There were still more parts of the island to explore but I was happy with my day and conscious of my energy levels so I returned my bicycle and sat outside at a cafe to enjoy a scone and cup of tea and the views towards the beautiful sand beach, Tra Inis Oirr. After my break, I still had time before the ferry arrived so I walked towards the beach,

and then along the sand to its very centre where the view out to the clouds and sea was truly magical.

I said goodbye to lovely Inis Oirr as the ferry pulled away,

and said hello to Inis Meain, the middle island, as we made the approach.

I was ready for the next part of my journey and optimistic that I was on the mend. I would have three days in one place to rest, read and explore. Unfortunately, things would not go as planned!