Ireland Day 7, Part 3: Cliffs of Moher by ferry

Between the warm sun above-deck, the hum of the motor, and the gentle rocking of the boat, it was impossible not to fall asleep.  I woke up to find we were moored at the dock, my head on Jason’s shoulder.  Instead of disembarking for Doolin, however, we stayed onboard for another leg of the trip: a Cliffs of Moher cruise.  At 10 euro extra, it seemed a great deal.  Plus, cool photo opportunity?  I'm there.  (Never mind our fellow B&Ber’s story regarding her harrowing experience on the cliffs cruise.  Yesterday had been a cloudy, stormy day.  We had clear weather and calm waters now.  Right?  Right.)

While I’d been napping, the boat filled up with people who were decidedly more interested in standing abovedeck to see the cliffs.  Having not been along for the first leg of the journey, they were blissfully ignorant of any possible reason why they might want to remain down below.  If we’d been thinking about it (and if I’d been awake), it would have been a great idea to pre-emptively take a spot along the railing for the best view.  Now we were blocked in by all the people standing up and could barely see a thing.  Because the cliffs would be on the left, that side of the boat was especially crowded.

We made great speed, but the water was growing choppier by the minute.  Because we were sailing parallel to the cliffs, our ferry was no longer able to go up and over the rougher waves and began to rock from side to side.  Back and forth, the swaying was deceptively gentle at first, but increased in force until, even sitting, we had to brace ourselves against the benches as the deck pitched and rolled violently beneath our feet.  

By this point, normal people would want to stay put.  However, we have determined that I am not normal people.  I was still calculating how to get the best view (and photos) of the cliffs.  But now that the ferry was being tossed back and forth between the waves like a toy sailboat, railing space was at a premium.

Except on the right side.  People had flocked to the left because that was the immediately obvious option with the cliffs initially to the left. Now they were stuck there, since hanging on for dear life was understandably higher on their priority list at the moment.  The ferry had to turn around to go back to Doolin at some point, though, and when it did it would most likely get closer to the cliffs.  That meant the right side was the perfect place to be.

Jason saw where I was looking and surely knew what I was planning to do.  I'll admit it was a little crazy given the current state of affairs.  But I was resolved to have the best possible pictures. 

So, I began squeezing my way past people, hanging onto whatever I could – the benches at first, then making blind grabs at patches of railing that appeared when people pitched with the boat, and, perhaps the worst and most perilous part, scrabbling for purchase when I passed the cabin: there were too many people along the railing here to possibly grab hold of it, so there was nothing for me to hold onto.  I hugged my body against the outside of the cabin, shuffling along and hoping for the best.

The boat jolted suddenly to the left and I stumbled.  Thankfully I'd made it far enough to be alongside the open cabin door, where I could wrap my fingers around the doorframe as the deck tilted to what felt like a full 45 degrees.  Someone shrieked and more than a few people made for the stairway as soon as the boat righted itself, looking more than a little green around the edges.

I kept on, hand over hand, people thankfully making way now as I gingerly circled around the back of the cabin and then, mercifully, was on the other side.  Making my way up to the very front right side of the boat, I managed to find a bit of railing to call my own. 

Phew.  Cue sigh of relief.  I turned around to look for Jason.

...Where was he?  Not on the left side of the boat, not behind me.  Behind the cabin?  If he’d gotten tossed over, they’d stop the boat… right?

Well, he can take care of himself.  Sadly, until he arrived I’d be limited to the dinky cell phone camera, since he had the DSLR around his neck.  Come to think of it, that was poor planning.  I hope he didn’t fall over - never mind husbands, I really like that wide angle lens. 

In all seriousness, I was sure he was fine, so I settled into my spot and looked out at the cliffs, finally content to just soak it all in now that I had a good enough vantage point to be able to enjoy the view.  I became acquainted with the couple next to me (from Boston - they were in Ireland for a month), when Jason suddenly materialized around the far side of the cabin.  I knew he'd make it eventually!

Jason passed off the camera just as the boat rolled to the side again, and in another insane move of photographic obsessiveness (to which we are all becoming accustomed), I switched from the zoom lens to the wide angle.*

Jason's appearance and my lens swap happened just in time, as the boat was beginning to turn and approach the cliffs more closely, preparing to circle back.

The ferry still rocked back and forth, but we could no longer hear the engine. Our ears were filled by the deafening crash as waves broke at the base of the cliffs, lashing white seafoam up and prickling our faces with icy droplets.

Here we could truly see the majesty of the cliffs.  We had to crane our heads back to take it all in: rocky cliffsides soaring more than seven hundred feet overhead and stretching so far out into the distance that they began to fade from sight with the hazy tinge that you so often associate with far-off mountain-ranges.

The tops of the cliffs were plushly carpeted in thick, long waves of grass, though only a few sparse but hardy tufts managed to cling desperately to the sides. On one far cliff perched a castle tower.  An inconsistent line of many-colored flecks were arrayed along the cliff's edge up there, but they were so small and indistinct that only with the zoom lens could I make out that they were people at all.  Staggered all along the cliff's edge and looking out at us, from their perspective our boat must have looked very forlorn, so far below and alone but for the jostling waves and the shadow of the looming cliffs.

Cliffs of Moher - stretching far off into the distance

Normally I like to exclude people from my photos,
but I think it helps to give a sense of scale here.

If you'll just excuse me for a moment, I need to go
write my wide angle lens a love sonnet.** 

It's strange that I can write paragraphs about the crazy ferry ride to get here, but words somehow don't quite work for describing the Cliffs of Moher.  For these, I think, pictures will have to suffice.

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* For those unfamiliar, this requires unscrewing the lens from the camera body, putting caps on it, getting it put safely in your bag, etc. Believe it or not, I wouldn't actually recommend doing this on a boat that's tipping about like mad.
** I'll admit I cheated a little with these last two photos and went against my rule of "no DSLR photos until they've been post-processed" to give you a sneak peek.  I think these shots turned out really well.  And yes, for the record, I'm in love with my camera lens.  Hey, don't look at me like that! I was told there would be no judgments here.