JandalsnAll

I left Kilronan at 5pm on Sunday evening with mixed feelings and a pack that surely weighed the equivalent of several small children – or one grown man – or a pack filled with Inishmore rocks – or just something really really heavy. Heavy enough that I did wonder as the ferry began to roll rather violently from side to side despite the seemingly calm waters if it was actually due to my extraordinarily weighty luggage putting the boat off balance and whether I should move into the centre of the boat? But we – my luggage and I – made it to Rossaveal harbour without sinking the ferry and its full load of passengers, and after a small struggle between myself and said rogue pack, also made onto the bus. And so it was I found myself once again in Galway city. As I walked back into the main street towards Barnacles hostel, I could feel the stares of the people on the back of my pack…’What an enormous pack’ I could see them thinking, and hear little gasps of amazement. ‘What on earth has she got in that thing?’ they whispered behind hands. Shoes people, its all shoes and handbags. No – Aran sweaters and my Inishmore rock collection.
I spent all of Sunday through Tuesday doing not a hell of alot – sleeping, watching tv, destressing and recooperating.

On Tuesday as planned, I caught the 10.30 bus to Doolin (after once again going through the Eternal Struggle of the Reluctant Pack – AND aswell as my pack I had also to contend with my overfilled daypack, shoulderbag, guitarcase-turned-library and jacket-turned-saddlebags. It felt like gravity had been altered and it was a struggle not to just let myself be flattened into the ground). I was purposely trying to not get my hopes up as I travelled towards a place where I have felt the most content during my Irish travels so far, not wanting to be disappointed on arrival and find goodtimes had in Doolin were more due to the people I spent time with rather than Doolin itself. But as the bus came round a bend in the road, out of the gloom I could see the sun was shining on Doolin. The pastel coloured houses dotted the green landscape (still greener than peas) the Atlantic ocean spread out blue beyond in the distance and I was not disappointed.

My arrival here in Doolin feels like the exact opposite experience of arriving on Inishmore, where the weather was bitter and the hostel much bigger and rather cold. Here, (though its raining now) the sun managed to shine for my arrival (especially for me) despite stormy surrounding skies and huge swells down at the pier. At the hostel there’s an amazingly homely and friendly atmosphere, especially at night when the fire is lit and the living area is full. Oh and there’s free tea! Who could ask for anything more….

I cant believe Ive been here on this island six weeks already. But not for much longer. Due to unfortunate and somewhat inexplicable circumstances I will be leaving this Godforsaken island and my hostel abode and workplace of the aforementioned six weeks, in just two days. I can’t say I’m sorry to be leaving and I look forward to what’s ahead – hopefully another job in another place that suits me a little better. Im heading to Doolin (sweet Doolin) next week to meet the owner of the hostel and hopefully if I like them and they like me I’ll jump straight into another hostel job to tide me over the summer months.

Im uncertain how I feel about Inishmore at this point. In the sunshine it’s unbelievably beautiful, but when the rain comes in and the wind is blowing it’s bitterly miserable. And Ive had some good times with some amazing people who have come through the hostel, but Ive also had times when Ive felt alone and unwelcome here. All in all it’s been an experience and I’ll take what I can from it and move on.

On a somewhat less serious note, last night while relaxing infront of my tv in my shed, I was introduced to the extraordinary event that is the Eurovision song contest. Id heard of this in NZ and had a vague idea of what it was but could never have imagined the reality. Let me share. Basically, the competition consists of all the European nations battling it out through song and dance. Thats nothing unusual. The thing is, Im not sure what the criteria is when it comes to the content of the song and dance. There were far too many na nanas and la la laa la laas and ney ne ney ne neys for it not to be compulsory to include non-words for at least half the song. As is it apparently compulsory to sing all harmonies excrutiatingly just out of tune. The dancing and the clothing do nothing to improve the song quality (sample lyric: ‘Lorraine in the rain’ sample group names: Vanilla Ninja, Wigwam, Feminem…). Far too many open shirts, sequins, unneccessary sunglasses (it was held inside) and swoonful looks for any of the acts to be taken seriously – by me at least. Is it supposed to be taken seriously? Does anybody know? The whole thing is intriguing. The acts were so bad I just had to watch to see if they could get any worse! Maybe Im in the dark on the whole thing, maybe its a big joke – I just cant work it out. Though the Irish commentators were sorely disappointed that Ireland didnt make it into the finals ‘Latvia?, come on’ one of them says in disgust as the last finalist is read. Im not sure which ones Latvia were but Im sure they had sequins, bad lyrics and worse harmonies. All in all it was not a comfortable 2 hour experience at all and yet I could not look away. Think a hideously mutant Steps/Wham/Shakira/Gareth Gates monster and you’ll have some idea of the fascinating creature that is Eurovision. Scary.

Yesterday I biked to the Eastern end of the island. Initially I thought the island went alot further so I was surprised to find myself at a small bay with only water before me. From the bay there is a great view of Inish Maan, the second of the Aran Islands (and the land I had thought was an extension of my island), and I stopped here for lunch and to take a break from biking.

On the way to the Eastern end I passed a cemetery I had stopped at a few days earlier. There are apparently 120 saints buried there, though I could find nothing readable dating before 1843. There were odd slabs of rock here and there which may well have been ancient grave stones – particularly around the remains of a small chapel(Teaghlach Einne) sunken low into the ground. The chapel is barely visible from the roadside because of the many Celtic crosses and the tall grasses that grow among them. Its roofless but otherwise intact. I had to stoop down to enter the curved archwayand found myself standing in a space only a few metres wide and a few more long, with an inscribed alter before me and the open sky above meView image. Its a special place to be and after taking some photos I left a coin in one of the small stone bowls on either side of the the chapel interior – my coin sat shining bright and new on the top of a pile of tarnished copper coins half submerged by rainwater. On the way out of the cemetery I read some of the gravestones. There are alot of young people buried here which is rather sombring. People’s children, aged 13 and 3 and 23 – I cant help but feel sorrow for their families I’ve never met.

The day I biked to the end of the island I was intent on finding a natural phenomenon known as a puffing hole. I had a vague idea of where they were in relation to my map and leaving my bike against a stonewall by the roadside, I start to trek up toward the middle of the island to reach the cliffs on the otherside. As has been my experience in the past crossing the width of the island, once over a few paddocks and walls, as the ocean disappears from view behind me the land becomes rockier and more barren, the limestone foundations of the island are revealed where the grass has worn away. Scattered around this area are huge boulders taller than myself, seemingly fallen from the sky – a giants discarded playthings. I can only conclude these have some sort of historical significance being prominent objects on an otherwise sparse landscape. I follow my own path which takes me past three such boulders, spaced 50 metres or so apart and seemingly forming a straight line pointing out to the coast. As the stone walls become less frequent, the ground is covered with more and more loose rock, piles of them here and there and large flat slabs that tilt as I move my weight across them. The familiar smell of salt air takes me home for a few seconds – I breath deeply. I hear the ocean crashing against the cliffs before I reach it and then its one more wall to clamber over and Im there. I find myself standing between two semi-circle inlets carved into the rocky coast and assume I’ve been lucky and led myself straight to my intended destination because of the way the swells roll in, hit the hollow inlets and water is flung into the air– or ‘puffed’ one might say. I would later find out that these were not the puffing holes, but they were impressive none the less.

Consulting my map I become unsure about my find and decide to walk to the beginning of the cliffs on the eastern side of the island and make my way back around the cliffs from there, tracing the shapes of the coast on my map as I go. The first natural wonder I nearly miss. I hear the boom of waves battering the cliffs and feel the vibrations through the ground and edge closer to the cliffs to get a better look. I have to get within a metre of the drop before I can see anything. About 30 metres below me is a perfect rectangle worn into the side of the island through which water is rushing in, ricocheting off the three sides and sweeping out to sea again. At first it doesn’t seem like much of a find but after a few minutes perching precariously on the edge of the cliff I am rewarded when the flow in and out builds up and crescends in one powerful wave which on hitting the back wall sends water high into the air
before me and everything is whited out with spray and foam. Its exhilarating to see, so much so that I risk my life to take a photo – thankfully there were no sudden gusts of wind or careless errors on my part.

Moving onward round the coast I come across something else I had been hoping to see, the remains of a stone circle built by artist Richard Long in 1975. I had been keeping an eye out for the stone circle but the problem faced when in a landscape such as this is that everywhere you look, with a little imagination random piles of rocks could easily be the remains of a Richard Long stone circle. This was definitely it though.

I then came to two more inlets in the coast -despite not really doing much, these I decide, are the puffing holes. Looking carefully I see way down another rectanglar recess in the surface of the rocks from which water is being forced up then sucked back down. Nothing airborne though. I notice the water is actually rushing under the bottom of the cliffs in the inlet furtherest from me and walking inland across more rocky shingle I come across a large hole in the ground maybe 3 metres by 3 metres. It is such a straight narrow chute into the earth that I can barely see the water rushing in at the bottom but I can hear it as it runs under the ground beneath my feet. A short distance from this hole I find another smaller hole which Glen aptly describes as looking like a bellybutton. Its wider at the top then narrows as though the land has been sucked down. These Glen also tells me later, are the puffing holes. They do not puff. And they’re the only thing I didn’t take any photos of. Heading back across the island I find one more hole, only by the echoing sound of water – its only about the size of a basketball. Its amazing and slightly worrying to realize that all this water is running freely below the very land I am walking on, especially since I recently read that limestone is watersoluble (thus the reason the caves and the crevices in the landscape developed).

As I head home I disturb a lizard sunning himself, he catches me unaware, and I catch only a glimpse of his tail and hind legs as he slips under a rock. Ireland has no snakes but it has lizards. I leave the salty air, the harsh coast and the power of the ocean behind me and make my way back down the otherside of the island towards my bike. For the first time in the three hours I’ve been exploring I see people. The isolation is incredible – it really is like being alone on the edge of the world. This is by far the most beautiful part of the island I’ve visited so far – its places like these that make me feel like I could stay here for ever……or at the very least come back some day.