An Island Adventure

This morning the clothes weren’t dry. We tried hanging them in front of open windows, we tried hanging them in front of the oven, but nothing seemed to helped. We all figured out something to wear other than what was wet and made the best of it.

We packed up and headed out to catch the 10:00 ferry to the Aran Island, Inis Oirr. It’s the smallest and closest of the Aran Islands. When I talked to Eimear, Gwen and Ellie’s teacher, about our trip, she said Inis Oirr is her favorite. Since she grew up in Clare, I figured she knows a

things or two about the area.

The ferry was relaxing and we got to see the Cliffs of Moher as we were leaving! The waves lulled nearly everyone to sleep on the short, half hour ride to the island.

When we got off the boat, it was a bit overwhelming to figure out how to best spend our time. Jay found a local craftsman right away and purchased a new cross to replace the one he lost back in January. Then Jay and Chapin took off and headed up the hill for the castle ruins. Mom, Dad, the girls, and I meandered along and took everything in.

We found a park with picnic tables nestled under the

castle ruins and centrally located where Dad decided to sit and watch our picnic stuff while he read his book. Mom and I headed up with the girls to see what the ruins were like.

Inis Oirr is an unusal mix of old and new at the center of the island. Only 250 people live on the island year-round. There were kids playing soccer and enjoying the playground, lots of tourists doing touristy-things, and tractors and horses pulling buggies of tourists all over the islands.

Tourism is the main industry on the island. They have very well-marketed tourism and our guide later in the day told us that’s why they have so many young people on their island. He said that a quarter of their population is school-aged children. The other Aran islands don’t have

that many kids and the islands are definitely struggling more than Inis Oirr.

The scene near the pier that was so bustling became more removed as we climbed up to the ruins. The view of the whole island opened up and from up there you can see that the busy part of the island makes up a very small footprint. The rest of the island is hand-built stone walls that fill the whole space until the land again meets the sea.

Most of the stone walls are thought to date from the late Bronze Age (1100 BC) through to the Iron Age (300 BC-500 AD.) The settlers built the walls to clear the stones and also to create fenced spaces for their livestock as well as to provide their crops shelter from the harsh

wind and elements. The walls also marked ownership of the land.

At times the walls almost look like works of art. They are not held together with any mortar. The builders realized that they needed to let a certain amount of wind through so that the walls would stay intact. It’s absolutely incredible to think of these walls standing for thousands of years not held together by anything other than the way the stones are stacked.

Chapin kept wandering on his own and Jay went back to the pier to rent a bike to explore.

Mom, the girls, and I wandered the ruins and Ellie dared Gwen a euro if she would go into a tiny dark room of the castle ruins. We then headed down in search of the lighthouse. I got to use a bit of my remedial French when we weren’t sure which was the best way to the lighthouse in the maze of walls. A nice hedge trimmer who spoke French and some English directed us the right way.

Mom and Ellie bailed and decided it was too far so they headed back down and in the direction of the beach. Gwen and I walked and walked and had so much fun being on our own. The sun came out and we took off layers until we were down to short sleeves for the first time in Ireland. The walls were to one side and the other was the sea and in the distance the Cliffs of Moher. We took silly pictures with my remote clicker and loved every minute of our long walk.

On our way back to the beach and main part of the island, we came across a family who pulled out not far in front of us from a small road among the walls. I heard them talking about band-aids and told the mom that I had some in my pocket if she needed one. Then I looked down at one of the sons, about 11-12 years old, and saw agony

on his face and blood running down his leg. He had fallen among the rocks and it was pretty bad—stitches were imminent. They were probably still over a mile from “civilization” and the boy was going to have to walk on his own to get there. There was nothing Gwen and I could do other than tell them we’d send help when we found some. As a mom, I Felt for that poor mom

Vistas opened up as we approached the main part of the island and though we were super hungry and wanted to find help for our fellow hiker, we had to stop a few times to enjoy the moments. When we got back to the playground, we finally were able to send some help in the form of two trash collectors who spoke enough English to understand that a kid on the lighthouse road needed urgent help. Irish is the main language still spoken on the island, but they got the gist and went in search. It didn’t seem like that was their first rodeo for a tourist in need of help.

Meanwhile, Mom and Ellie and Chapin were having their own adventures on the beach. Ellie made a new friend, Grace, from County Tipperary. They played with a sweet, smart stray dog on the beach and threw a ball for him non-stop.

And then Chapin decided it was time to swim. He went for it. And said it was Cold. I asked later exactly what temperature it was and all he could say was “Cold.”

The weather seemed to be taking a turn for the worse and the sky felt heavy. Gwen and I got coffees and fudge and found Jay. We decided it was time to take our horse and buggy ride. It was sort of like Aran Island Uber where you call a number and a horse and buggy will come and pick you up. Chapin was off in search of the shipwreck so we decided to take a ride out to St. Enda’s Well and then over to the shipwreck.

Just as we got on our buggy, the rain turned steady instead of a spitting drizzle and it was nice to have a roof over our heads even though the rain was coming in from

all sides. We rode along the water and out to the remote part of the island where the Well is located. It’s magical. I wish I could have just walked and walked and walked out in that area. It was so quiet and peaceful and the landscape felt otherworldly with all of the rock and the walls.

Our guide talked to us about the well and how it is believed to be holy. Mom can’t pass up a good opportunity to get some Holy Water, so she took her used coffee cup and scooped some up to bring back home. I’m not sure how she’ll get it back to the States.

Tradition used to be that a cup was left by the side of the well filled with water from the well. It was left there in case a person physically unable to get down to the water

level to scoop some water out came along. They wanted to make sure that everyone had access to the water.

I wish it hadn’t been raining and chilly at this point, because I could have stayed right there in that part of the island all day. Lost in the ruggedness and quiet.

We went to the shipwreck on the other end of the 3-mile-long island for a glance. It was quite a sight in the misty rain. The Plassey met her fate in a storm in the 1960’s. Everyone survived but the owners of the ship decided to just leave her there. It’s very haunting.

On our ferry ride home, a dog became fixated on Ellie, but otherwise it was an uneventful but wavy ride back to the mainland.

We had a quiet evening at home trying to dry laundry and playing pinochle. Jay went to Ennis for a session while we all rested. Jay and Ellie are in love with all the animals on the farm here at our Airbnb. There are a zillion cats, a couple of dogs, and two pot bellied pigs. They have been playing with the animals non-stop since we arrived. This isn’t your usual Clare accommodations, but off-the-beaten-path is the most fun for us.