July 29 Almost to the end of the world!

Sorry where was I?  .... After a delicious lunch and reluctantly leaving a gin-tasting at Quinn’s, we piled into a zodiac to take us out to the small boat that would whisk us out past the most western point of mainland Ireland to the Blasket Islands, the most westerly scraps of land in Europe. The origin of the islands’ name is thought to come from the Norse word ‘brasker’, meaning a dangerous place. And therein lies a wee tale. Having travelled through Scotland, particularly the islands, and having been regaled with stories of Viking ‘settlement’ dating back over half a millennium, it was interesting albeit not surprising to hear that the Vikings had a strong presence in Ireland in days gone by and that many place names, among other things, bear that heritage. 

Now an uninhabited group of islands, the Blasket Islands were inhabited until 1953 by a completely Irish-speaking population, and today are part of the Gaeltacht, the Irish speaking region through which we have spent a lot of time travelling. In 1953 the inhabitants were evacuated by the government to the mainland (much like what happened at St Kilda and elsewhere at exactly the same time) purportedly because of the declining population and harsh nature of life on the island. 

But to the wonders of the region. We saw masses of seabirds and a special treat was spotting a small pod of the rarely seen Risso Dolphins. One pair was mum and bub surfacing and diving together. They were beautiful to watch. One very large probably male put on a wee show for us - twisting and turning only to splash back into the water. Their close cousins to the larger whales. 

We’ve been travelling two beautiful peninsulas - Dingle and the Ring of Kerry with the Skellig Ring tacked on the very top of the peninsula. Magical scenery! Mighty outcrops and cliff of red-purple sandstone. 

This is the zodiac and its captain to take us out to our boat for the Blasket Islands

Oh so fetching! You have to smile - if you can get your chin over the ‘Mae West’

I managed to capture this Risso Dolphin coming up for air

We saw some spectacular skies. This one over Greater Blasket island. This is the rugged weatherside 

On the leeward side, are the remains of earlier settlement of 200-odd people. 

Some of the buildings are being restored to encourage summer visitors. These are cafes plus accommodation 

Cathedral Rock on another of the islands. Jagged and inhospitable.

These must be the cathedral doors!

Looking astern the water and sky seemed to blend one into the other in a giant foamy mass

Cloud shadows over the hills and the beautiful red sandstone cliffs hemming the mainland

This is a small chunk of the beautiful red sandstone

We came back to shore to see the finish of the annual regatta racing in naomhóg - traditional Irish currach 

This is the road out to the western tippy-tip. Quite a rugged cliff we were hugging!

Rugged and beautiful. These are a pair resting on the wall are fulmars. They are quiet gentle birds.

Path and gateway leading to Dunmore Head, the westernmost part of the Dingle Peninsula

We wandered all over Dunmore Head - as far as we dared!

This might be one of the Ogham Stones which feature C4-8th inscriptions in the earliest form of the Irish language

More Ogham Stones perhaps 

July 28 The most westerly point in Europe!

Quinn’s Bar on Dingle Peninsula - you have to go! 

Seafood chowder I almost had to eat with a knife and fork. Full of large chunks of different fish, prawns, mussels cooked in a cream base with herbs including fennel seeds and Star Anise. Served with a chunk of good Irish soda bread. Delicious! Lindsay had a whopper of a fishcake with chilli sauce. Washed down with Irish cider and local beer. 

They serve Dingle’s own craft beers, gin and single malt Irish whiskey - you could make a right mess of yourself and not stop smiling. Then we piled into a boat to go to the most westerly piece of land in Europe- the Blasket Islands. More later .....

Scrumptious seafood chowder and fishcakes

July 26 A few days out at Lough Derg

After days travelling south along the rocky coastline of Ireland, we are camped inland on the shores of Lough Derg (the name evolved from one of the names of The Dagda, an Irish god). It is a long, narrow, freshwater lake, the third biggest in Ireland evidently. Where we are camped the lake is in county Clare, but the lake actually spans a few counties. 

It is glorious, quiet and refreshing with a fresh cool wind blowing in off the lough. The evening smell of plants, water and woodsmoke from small campires is delicious - fragrant, green and earthy. Just what we need - we are taking a wee break to collect our thoughts and have a rest. 

The water feels wonderful and relatively warm

There are two white swans hereabouts - the Mute Swan and the Whooper Swan. This is a Mute Swan.

Our wee cosy van

July 25 The Cliffs of Moher and more!

Doolin, Co Clare is a wee village, or it was back in my backpacking days in the 1980s. BAck then it had almost as many pubs as people. OK that’s an exaggeration, but there were quite a few cozy pubs serving buckets of Guinness and dishing up a menu of rich, dark Irish folk music and humour and you spent the night wandering from one to the next. It felt remote and special. Obviously lots of other people thought so too! and today the place is teeming with touristy stuff.

Ten or so years ago it became part of the UNESCO designation - The Burren and Cliffs of Moher Global Geopark - which saw the area receive a huge injection of funds to develop and preserve its geo-special features. The area is riddled with caves and near Doolin is a cave with one of the world’s largest stalactites. The Burren is special for its glacial karst landscape, which I love, and the Cliffs of Moher for its mighty vertical sandstone and shale sea cliffs the highest in Europe they say. We might have to return - off season! to explore some of these wonderful things further. 

The Cliffs of Moher are quite impressive but getting near them proved a challenge. Once you could walk the cliffs with few restrictions but now there are designated parking places, turnstiles and fences and .... I know we must preserve such natural wonders and it should be so, but ... !?  We drove on and found a turnoff to a cliff walk. A number of Km in off the main road to a small village and then a few Km walk and we were on the edge of the southern end of the Cliffs of Moher at Hag’s Head. Near there are the ruins of Moher Tower,  an old watchtower. It stands close to the site of an earlier fortification, known as Mothar or Moher, a promontory fort. The earlier fortification was demolished in 1808 to provide material for a new lookout/signalling tower during the Napoleonic Wars. Similar to the one on Malin Head and many spots along the coast. The landowner is still building paths and fences along this cliff line so there were areas where there were sheer drops. Rather scary, but breathtaking and we were there experiencing it.  I love this area!

Still traveling the Wild Atlantic Way and on into Doolin

Very quaint and colourfully twee!

The Cliffs of Moher viewed from the northern end at Doolin

The official access point. Seeing the numbers on the walkway along the cliffs, we drove on

Never underestimate the destination at the end of a country lane!

This wee farming village offered some friendly assisted-parking and access to the southern end of the Cliffs

A country stroll of a couple of km took us to that distant tower and beyond - and there it was!

Moher Tower, the stone ruin of an old watchtower close to an earlier fortification, known as Mothar or Moher, a promontory fort

Hag’s Head, the southern and high end of the Cliffs

Looking to the south.

Looking north and yes we were close to the edge - it was a bit nerve-racking

We didn't walk further as there were few barriers and seeing where the cliff was 'repaired' it felt a bit scary 

July 24-25 The Burren

Two days ago we arrived in The Burren, Co Clare. It is desolate, barren and overwhelmingly beautiful. It is a magic place - rock and more rock as far as the eye can see! The Burren borders on Galway Bay  which, as legend would have it, was once the site of one of the three largest loughs in Ireland. Sea levels rose and the Atlantic broke through - all that remains on the seaward side are the Aran Islands. 

The limestone rock of the Burren is 100s of millions of years old eroded over time by the huge ice sheet that once covered it and then by rainwater which filters down dissolving the rock to form fissures and karsts (like we saw in Tassie last year). Over 30,000 hectares of the region are designated as Special Areas of Conservation (SACs) to protect these rare and threatened habitats. The limestone pavement of  The Burren is listed as a Priority Habitat and is protected by law (I didn’t know there was such a thing - the things you learn!).

I love the desolation of this place. The hills are awesome and the shoreline, where not towering cliffs, is a crazy smattering of lumpy, clumping low rocks crusted with a thick, slippery coat of seaweed. One tiny village offered seaweed baths - they are supposed to be good for what ails you.  In days of old at the onset of winter the cattle farmers would drive their cattle down onto the limestone pavement to graze on the tender grasses which continued to grow around the rocks. The rock retained its heat well after the surrounding soil had cooled. In amongst all that rock are gorgeous flowers. We found over a dozen different species in one roadside stop at Murrooghtoohy. This is within The Burren and Cliffs of Moher UNESCO Global Geopark. More to come on that  ......

The bare face of The Burren lookms in the background

I love this place and drove through here in 1984 - the memories linger still 

The surface was scoured by an ancient ice sheet

Standing out against the flat limestone pavement erratics (the boulders) - are evidence of ancient glacial activity 

A busload of people arrived and swarmed over the rocks sending us hunting for quiet spots

The rock extends way inland

We saw this jumble of huge rocks where the roof of one cave had collapsed

It is a rugged coast

Patches of flowers and grass grow in the most unlikely places

A gorgeous little Sea Campion advertises to the world with its tiny insect-like banners

July 23 Doolough Valley

We’ve been travelling in Mayo and Galway counties the last few days and the scenery has been magical. One place which will remain etched in my memory - Doolough Valley. One of the most beautiful and serene places I have seen, but the site of an unavoidable and unforgivable tragedy. 

On a bitterly cold day in 1849 around 600 starving people gathered in Louisburgh in the valley seeking food or a ticket to get to the Westport workhouse. They were dismissed and told to apply to the Poor Law officials who were meeting the next day in Delphi 12 miles away. Some died overnight. The rest struggled on foot across the mountains following sheep-tracks and wading through streams. When they arrived in Delphi the officials refused to help and told them to go back. 

No one knows how many died along the way from cold, hunger and exhaustion - at least 7 maybe 20 but significantly more. 

Perhaps one of the darkest moments of the Great Famine and I can’t help but feel it resonates with some current day issues. 

The story and the valley moved me almost beyond words. 

‘The sighing of the winds above their nameless graves forever sings their requiem.’  James Berry, c1910. 

Approaching the valley the surrounding mountains are magnificent albeit rather foreboding

A few thin rays of light piece the overhanging clouds

Impossible to capture the beauty of the valley - a view from the Louisburgh end

Historic engraved marker recently marked with a St Brigid's Cross, a traditional Irish symbol of protection 

The clouds parted and spotlights of sun lit up the valley floor. It was pretty special.