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| From My Pictures |
It all started so well yesterday evening when I booked into the hotel. In fairness I had been warned by a work colleague that Kilkee was the favourite destination for party people from Limerick and I should have twigged this from the fact that somebody had tried digging a hole through my bedroom wall. I was tired, it was raining and at the hotel promised a bath, buffet breakfast for me in the room for the morning and a restaurant in the hotel so I didn’t have to go out in the rain.
The food was grand and I watched Chelsea get knocked out of the FA cup by Liverpool on the big TV before retreating to my room. The bath had turned out to be a tad disappointing as it was actually made for dwarfs and I didn’t fit so well. I did get to have a soak though my legs were propped up at 90 degree on the wall at the end.
Sleep came very quickly.
The problems started at about 1am when the drunks came back to their rooms. It seems that people are very hard if hearing when drunk cause they shout a lot and for some reason hotels that seem to cater for hard of hearing people tend to have paper thin walls and doors. It was so reminiscent of Wexford except rather than kids running around it was drunks speaking to their mates on mobile phones. Still it didn’t last too long and I was soon sleeping again.
The biggest problem came at 5.15am when I woke up to discover that the breakfast I was promised never materialised in my room. Nor was it outside my door, though that was probably a blessing as some guy with the nibbles would have probably taken it away. The breakfast room door was locked so it wasn’t in there either so I resigned myself to heading out with only a banana and a bottle of water.
The next problem was how to actually get out of the hotel as every door was locked and there was no sign of any night porter to let me out though I had been told one would be on duty. It was so tempting to open one of the fire doors and probably set the alarm off, payback time for all those people who had woken me up to abruptly the night before. I’m just not that sort of guy though so instead I climbed out of my bedroom door like some thief at night, in fact if I had been spotted their probably would have been some explaining to do “Hello officer I know it looks suspicious climbing out of a hotel room window at 5.30am on a Sunday morning but I can explain…”
Roads were once again completely empty and the rain from last night had stopped. County Clare beckoned and the day promised to be fine weather and I was not to be disappointed.
The first stop of the day was Spanish Point which is where one of my colleagues’ girlfriend comes from. A lovely spot and with the sun up and the weather starting to heat up the cycling was proving to be very enjoyable.
One of the highlights of today was to be the glorious Cliffs of Moher. The Cliffs of Moher are one of Ireland's most spectacular sights. Standing 230 metres above the ground at their highest point and 8km long, the Cliffs boast one of the most amazing views in Ireland.
To the south of the cliffs is Hag's Head and the cliffs reach their highest point just north of O' Brien's Tower. The Tower was built by Cornelius O' Brien, a descendant of Brian Boru, to impress female visitors. The seastack, Breanan Mór, stands over 70 metres above the foaming waves.
Strange things people do to impress their women folk.
As I was visiting the cliffs at 8.30am on a Sunday I thought I was going to have them almost to myself but this is a very popular destination. A coach load of American ladies were already descending down from the cliffs which have been turned into a horrendous building site with the construction of a new visitors centre and car park.
I dropped down the other site and caught my first glimpse of the Arran Islands which lie just off the coast here. Famous for the wild scenery, weavers, mountains, old stone forts, and Gaelic traditions the Aran Islands in Galway Bay attract a lot of tourists. On the largest of the islands, Inis Mor, there is an 11-acre stone fort that overlooks a 250-foot sheer drop to the sea.
Breakfast was in Doolin which was a lovely little village. I cycled right past a pub serving cooked breakfast so I couldn’t resist. I even had the pleasure of sitting outside in the sunshine.
Cycling through Clare I kept thinking at anytime I would look into the fields and see Hobbits working away, to meet cart and horses on their way to market and to be ever fearful of the black riders hunting for the ring.
With the ever present castles dotting the land it’s hard to believe that this area was once so wild and desolate that many a fight was fought.
At last the rolling fields gave way to the more barren aspects of the area known at “The Burren” which are huge formations of limestone that march down from the hills and mountains all the way to the sea.
In the far distance I was also to get my first glimpse of Galway bay and the area known as Connemara, but for now I just enjoyed the Burren.
Finally after what seemed like a very short day, in fact it was just gone 1pm, I reached Galway. Always striving to be efficient (I annoy myself at times being so anal) I found the train station with the intention of catching the train I was told left at 3pm. In fact it was leaving in 10 minutes so I elected to get home to Dublin early and jumped aboard.
The trip back to Galway flew by due to two very good reasons. The first was that Galway to Dublin by train is just over two hours, compared the 7 hours it took me to get to Dingle, and the second was my conversation with Pat Flannigan. Now that’s a great Irish name except she was an English lady who married an Irish builder and had lived outside Galway for 31 years. She proudly told me of her 6 children and we chatted away about this and that. Yet again, just like meeting Liam the day before, I was struck by how exciting my life must seem to people who have been happy to make a life in one place. She told me she had only been on one holiday in the last 31 years and that was to Paris for a weekend.
A glorious weekend of cycling.
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