Days 9–11: Connemara Hideaway
(Thursday 11 May to Sunday 14 May)
We had thought that we would do a walk through Galway on our way to our B and B near Rossaveel, but there was far too much to see; and even though we were nearly blown off the Cliffs of Moher, it was a most enjoyable drive. We whistlestopped in Limerick, where the rain made even a visit to King John’s Castle just grey rocks, but most of the time we were travelling through green country.
The cliffs were just as awe-inspiring as everyone had said, but the wind was cold and nearly buffetted us off our feet.
The beanies were a necessary souvenir — we left ours at home in Canberra on the grounds they would be unnecessary, but we were disabused of that opinion as soon as we got out of the car. The great irony of this part of the world is that, five kms down the road, a group of golfers were enjoying a pleasant day on the links.
Our cosy cottage was almost new and perched near the head of an inlet of Galway Bay, only minutes from the ferry terminal at Rossaveel. It was tastefully and wittily decorated and the view from the kitche windows was breathetaking.
Galway Bay was a millpond in the morning, although the wind came up in the afternoon. Because we have been self-catering, our roast chicken from the night before gave us chicken rolls for the hike, and the warm sun (14 degrees!) was an excused for correcting our electrolytes at one of the pubs.
Innis Mor was full of American tourists on bikes, or so it seemed, perfectly nice people charging around mostly disappointed in the lack of seals, puffins, and Hollywood stars lacking digits. We chose the path less travelled, even by Robert Frost, and hoofed it around the island at a steady pace, as the arch-shopper (Paula) had homed in on the Arran knitwear shops around Kilronan (the village). 17 or 18 kilometers on bitumen, in boots, left us rather footsore; but it was certainly worth it for the perfect weather and the contrast of see, rock and grass that met the eye wherever you were.
Our visit to the Arran knitwear shops, ostensibly for gifts, was a success: free delivery back to Australia encouraged us to each by something for ourselves as well. Something for the new arrival is tucked into my bag.
Saturday saw us in Galway for the afternoon, and it one our hearts as the most vibrant, colourful and enjoyable town we had yet visited, perfectly situated on the river and the bay, and bathed in spring sunshine. It was just busy enough, and the Spanish quarter was happening.
Connemara itself is often barren and rugged, so the liveliness of the town was a surprise. It wasn’t until we’d travelled a bit further north that we could see a more fertile landscape; but life must have been tough for poor people over the centuries, eaking a living from the land and the sea. Now prosperity seems to have come to Ireland, judging by the new houses everywhere, and factories and motorways, but the ruins in the landscape are a reminder of years of spoiled hopes and dreams that are as much a part of Ireland’s history as music and dancing.
