After my hasty picture-less post about the cave yesterday, I went on to see the cliffs of Moher, which are an absolute must when you're in the area. I asked the guy running the Hostel what the best way to see them was. Now, there's an official visitor's centre for the cliffs which, naturally, is very touristy. If you haven't noticed yet, I'm not a big fan of overly touristy things. So Karl, the hostel guy, said I shouldn't bother with it and there's a way to see the cliffs without paying for it anyway. He then proceeded to explain a detailed and very sketchy-sounding route that would involve jumping a gate, walking dangerously close to the cliffs (jumping the fence into the next-door paddock when the path got too close) and generally wandering off into almost certain death or prosecution. Skeptical, I decided to at least go as far as the beginning of the path. One look down it and I thought better of the idea. Subsequently I realised I maybe should have risked it, but I'll get to that later.
So then I headed off to Gus O'Connor's, which was right round the corner, for a quick bite to eat. As luck would have it, a session was currently in progress in the pub with three musicians. One of them was even playing the uillean pipes, which I had the pleasure of hearing live for the first time. Good thing, then, I thought, that I didn't decide to risk my life and try to see the cliffs down that little goat-path.
Instead I decided to take a bus to the cliffs. Upon arrival I discovered the cliffs were free to see anyway. However, the visitor's centre is tacky and touristy, and as for the cliffs themselves - well, they're cliffs. They're mighty impressive, but there's not a lot to say about them. That's why I've included pretty pictures! I would have liked to wander a bit further up and down the cliffs - there was a decent path to follow for quite a while - but the weather had decided to take a dislike to all the tourists and was blustering and spitting and being generally untoward. And of course I was the only chump there with short sleeves. They were selling rain ponchos at the centre, but there's no way I was paying €2.50 for what amounts to a garbage bag with holes in it.
After the cliffs I went back to McGann's Pub. A friend I had made in Cork, Lauren, was going there to drink away the cold, and I had nothing else planned so far so I decided to join her. Whilst sitting there, throwing back pints of Guinness, I realised there was one more thing I wanted to do in Doolin, and that was to see the Burren. Burren in Gaelic means rocky place. Basically the whole area is Karst, which means the ground is all limestone, hence all the caves. It also makes for truly spectacular and unique scenery. A few miles out from Doolin there's the Burren National Park, but it's much too far for walking to be an option, and techinigally the whole area is part of the Burren, not just the park. The few pints of Guinness I had had made me feel invincible by this stage, so I bravely marched back to my hostel and demanded Karl give me directions to a good place to see the Burren. These directions sounded even more sketchy than the Cliffs of Moher directions - I was to follow the tiny road next to the Hostel out toward the sea. When I get to a gate that looks like its the end of the road with a sign saying "beware of Bull" I was to simply pass by to the right of it. A tumbling dirt track would then lead me to two iron gates. I was to hop over the first one and cut across the fields until I reached the sea. I could then follow that around and get as much of the Burren as I pleased. The Alcohol still coursing through my veins still gave me courage and I strode off. And let me tell you, it was one of the best experiences of my life.
Before I even got the the "Beware of Bull" sign I noticed the landscape around me becoming very dramatic and somehow alien. After jumping the iron gate and walking for a couple of minutes it became truly stunning. I didn't have to worry about anything too touristy - the only traces of civilisation I could see after a while were the waist-height stone walls probably built 200 years ago. Like the cliffs, pictures serve here better than words. But bear in mind that like caves, pictures will never truly do justice to the feeling of actually being there.
Karl had told me it would take me about half an hour to walk, but I'd probably take longer as I would want to take it all in. At first I didn't believe him, but a believer was made of me when I returned an hour and a half later. Then all that was left was to return to McGann's pub and wax lyrical to Lauren about how awesome it truly was. Her reaction was exactly the same as my initial reaction to Karl's directions.
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