I thought Howth was what people were referring to when they said Ireland was beautiful. I found out last week that Howth was just a taste of what Ireland had to offer. A little over a week ago, a friend and I took a day trip across the island of Ireland to see the Cliffs of Moher.
My alarm went off at 7:30am on a Sunday. I rolled out of bed, put on the pants I was wearing just four hours prior, and made my way to a bus tour leaving for Galway at 8:15am. My friend and I slept for most of the three hour bus ride across the Island until the bus driver woke everybody up with a cheerful “rise and shine boys and girls” to start pointing some things out to us.
When I looked out the windows there was a vast landscape of meadows and limestone terrain. As we drove through the Irish countryside little cottages could be seen with lambs, goats, horses, and cows grazing the land. In the backyards of these cottages there were also goals set up for the children to practice their Hurling and Gaelic Football. Even these remote villages in the heart of Ireland had clubs that were represented in the Gaelic Athletic Association (GAA).
Corcomroe Abbey
Our first notable stop was at the ruins Corcomroe Abbey, an early 13-century Cistercian monastery. The abbey was constructed using local limestone and for a structure estimated to be built in the early 1200’s it was in great shape. We climbed through a gate and walked in and out of the open air structure. The monastery was cluttered with tombstones filling the lawns surrounding the church. As the legend goes the building was commissioned by King Conor Na Siudane Ua Brian. Upon the completion of the building, he executed the five masons who built it to prevent them from constructing a rival masterpiece elsewhere. After the death of King Conor, the abbey became a site of isolation that the monks chose to inhabit. For hundreds of years the monks tended the land and lived in the monastery. I would have liked to have taken some time to walk through the structure in silence but I was in the presence of three bus tours on the same route equating to over 150 people. We were only given around 15 minutes at this location and In a tourist-like manner we all got back on the bus and continued to our next stop.
The “Mini Cliffs” of Moher and the Wild Atlantic Coast We drove for another 15 minutes or so and arrived at what our bus driver called “The Mini-Cliffs of Moher.” We exited the bus and my friend and I walked towards the edge of the cliffs. The ocean air filled our nostrils as my friend and I tried to loosen our legs and settle our stomachs from the long bus ride. We walked along the edge of the cliffs looking down ever
y so often at the waves crashing against rocks. Once again I was irked by the presence of 150 people around me and in fifteen minutes we were beckoned back to the bus. Once again not enough time to appreciate the scenery.
The Cliffs of Moher at last With another 15 minute drive we pulled up into a special bus tour parking lot. We were at the Cliffs of Moher. The bus driver recommended that once we reached the path on the cliffs we should make our way right to get the best view. He then told us that we had to be back at 3:30pm. We had an hour and a half to experience the edge of civilization and the start of the vast mysterious Atlantic Ocean...I knew it wouldn’t be
enough time. My friend and I walked up the pedestrian path and started to make our way right. We came to an attraction of sorts. From where we stood there was a castle-like tower behind us and we could look over the wall and see three and half miles of cliffs. This was definitely where they wanted us tourists to be. After around ten minutes at this viewpoint my friend and I continued on our way.
We started seeing signs for “exposed cliff ahead” and the wall to our left very quickly disappeared. As we walked we would occasionally see a good spot on the ledge to take a picture and hang out for a second to admire the view. We kept on our way until we saw a section of the cliffs where we could go right up to ledge and look over. We climbed down a little hill and bended around another curve until we hit the part of the cliffs that were jutting out.
At first we stood back, being ever so cautious. Then we laid on our bellies and looked over the ledge. Then we sat with our feet over ledge. There was a little beach that could be seen to our right and we wondered what it would take to get there. The waves crashed against the cliff walls all around us. As I sat with my feet over the ledge I felt as if all the weight in my body had fallen to the pit of my stomach. The cliffs are said to be two thirds as tall as the Empire State Building. I began to wonder how many people had fallen off of these cliffs. How many people had jumped. How many people had been pushed, how many people had done the pushing. How easy it could be to scooch too far forward. Then a scene from one of my favorite shows Louie came to mind.
I looked at the clock on my phone and we had around fifteen minutes to get back to the bus. I’d be damned if I rushed this experience. We began to head back, but at our own pace. We were ten minutes late and the last ones to get on board. The bus driver seemed annoyed and we received some not so friendly glares from some of the other passengers. We were those guys I thought to myself as we made our way to the back of the bus. I didn’t care though. I wasn’t going to let sixty strangers ruin an experience like that for me.
On our way back the bus made another forgettable stop at some sight that was supposed to be cool but my mind was still on the cliffs. I had maybe walked half a mile on them. The cliffs of Moher were four miles long. Three and half miles that I did not have time to explore because I was a victim to a tourist bus tour. Once again I began to think about how I needed to go back and experience them the right way. I still had plenty of time left in Ireland, but unlike Howth, the Cliffs of Moher were a three and half hour drive away.