Every day in Ireland was packed full, but I feel like we packed the most mileage and landscape into this day. We woke up early in our hostel (The Grapevine Hostel if you're curious), stumbled our way through tricky showers with half freezing half burning water and down to the kitchen to work our ways through toast and jam while we watched the resident family get their son all ready for school (children with Irish accents? Adorable to an unbelievable degree.) The trip around the Slea Head loop (Dingle Peninsula) was a study in roads. They started like the above. Most of the roads along the coast are like this. Narrow, but not impassable, and only really terrifying when a tour bus is coming from the opposite direction and very obviously can't fit in their lane.
However; the road narrowed to one lane as we started the loop. Apparently, it's supposed to be one way. Most people were going our way; but, there was the occasional breathless moment as a car heading the other way squeezed by.
But don't worry, the road proceeded to narrow even more.
I kind of loved this windy part, the ocean beyond the ever present rock wall to the left and craggy rocks to our right. It just felt, well, right.
The morning was the rainiest we had encountered, so many of our stops were done in piecemeal, taking moments to dry our cameras and selves in the car. It was so worth the freezing rain and camera damage (don't worry, nothing permanent... we think).
This was our longest stop. Dún Chaoin is the Western most point of Ireland, and lives up to having such a prestigious title.
This was coldest, rainiest point in our drive, but we spent the longest here. It was just too breathtaking to drive away.
We stayed long enough that the rain cleared enough so we could make the Blasket Islands out clearly.
We finally hopped into the car and proceeded on. On our next stop, we climbed down into a muddy field and walked toward the coast. There really isn't much that can rival the things we saw here... everything just moved me. With everything shrouded in fog and rain, the whole loop had an air of mystery to it. It was perfect... mystery makes you dream, makes you think of what came before you.
Oh, plus, I love him. It's true.
Our last stop on the drive was at these church ruins and cemetery. See that narrow opening at the back? The legend goes that if you can fit through that, you'll go to heaven. No worries, we all made it. Nice to not have to worry about that anymore.
From there, we wrapped up a little shopping in town (hey, I had 20 people to buy for, we had a lot of work to do in small chunks of time) and found a little restaurant to get our fish n' chips in. Here's confession time: I used to hate fish... like, a lot. Recently, I've gotten over that somewhat, but I was still wary of eating for real fish from a legit fishing town (I mean, we watched them carry our fish in from the dock, just about as fresh as can be). That being said, I picked the most mild fish they had and rocked lunch out. It was yummy, and warm... which was important, I was still chilled.
And here, you can insert a 4 hour nap for Erin and I while Daniel drove the rather treacherous roads. Okay, we didn't sleep the entire four hours... those treacherous roads meant there were a lot of things to stare at out the window while singing along to Erin's iPod in between charging the garmin. Our end destination was worth it:
The Cliffs of Mohrer. We were sure we would only get a few minutes here, but luckily, we found that we were allowed to stay on the cliffs much longer than last admission. We're grateful for the amount of times this happened on our trip... it meant we had a lot more time when we were sure we were out of it. And boy, was it worth it.
The wind was so strong it alternated between pushing us over and holding us up. I've used the word breathtaking too many times already on this entry; but, really, breathtaking.
There is a wall with a memorial to all those that have died falling from the cliffs before the safety wall had been built(the wind we experienced made it very easy to imagine), and we later learned that most of our friends who had been to the Cliffs had climbed over it. We were pretty sure we would die, and watched this couple that had climbed over for a few minutes... kind of in that fascination where you aren't quite sure they're going to make it (I think they did; though, we didn't stay long enough to make sure...)
My dream for most of the trip was to watch the sun set over the cliffs. I didn't necessarily see the entire sunset, but the beginning was beautiful enough to fulfill all of the wishes.
Only a few kilometers away from the Cliffs is St. Brigid's Well. Since my niece is named after St. Brigid, it was a necessary stop. What we found was fascinating. Everywhere, people had left pieces of their lives, asking for prayers, asking for someone to remember their babies, their mothers, their petitions. It was both beautiful and desperately sad. We wandered quietly for a while, reading notes and taking pictures.
The spring is in the back of this little structure, a sweet little stream, just carrying on it's job as it has for hundreds of years.
We didn't have anything to leave but a prayer for our sweet Brigie, and with that, we continued on our way. Galway, dinner and rest called to us. Only a few kilometers away; though, we made one last stop to glory in the sunset. It still takes my breath away.
I mentioned that I felt like I should do a heel click in the road; but, alas, that skill isn't mine. Luckily, Erin cheerfully obliged, and we were on our way.
Though the pictures for the day mostly end here, we had a long road ahead of us. We drove the two hours to Galway, wrapping ourselves through the coast and tiny coastal towns (and filling up our gas tank for the first time on the trip... diesel cars are kind of a wonder that way). Once there, we debated between finding our beds or our dinner first. We decided we had better get settled so we could walk into town, as parking was scarce. Here lay an adventure as the large hostel we had spoken with previously informed us they had no male beds. As may be obvious, Daniel is a male, so we had to move on. They recommended a bed and breakfast to us. That bed and breakfast was one of the best things that happened to us on this trip. It was run by a little woman named Betty, sweet and fiery and somewhere between middle-aged and elderly, fighting cancer, with enough stories to fill the night. She walked us into town, directing us to quick dinners (here is where I admit that I ate Papa Johns... it was a Friday in Lent and fish didn't appeal to me for a second meal in a row) and local pubs. Galway is a college town, and the pubs showed it. They were packed, stuffy and not what we were hoping for at all. We finally found one with a table, but the music never started... they mic checked, and mic checked... and after a good many jokes, we headed back to our beds and blissful sleep to prepare for our drive into Dublin the next morning.
I agree... absolutely breathtaking. So enjoying your pictures and commentary.
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