Ireland Day 7, Part 4: Doolin town, Cliffs of Moher by land

Cliffs of Moher ferries: more exciting than Six Flags for a fraction of the price.

Suffice it to say that we made it back in one piece from the Cliffs of Moher ferry.  Thoroughly chilled to the bone, we took some time to collect ourselves in the renowned O'Connor's pub.  It gets some serious points for kitsch factor - they had police badges from all around the world on the walls, and license plates as well.  (Is this a tourist pub thing? We saw it a couple times during our trip.)

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.)

Ireland Day 7, Part 2: Inisheer

Inisheer's idyllic pastures and happy cows

As Inisheer came into sight, we spotted on its leftmost tip a lighthouse and, even more excitingly, a hulking rusted wreck of a ship.  There was plenty of opportunity to get out the zoom lens for shots of both the lighthouse and shipwreck, but we quickly decided it was a goal to get out there in person for more pictures.

A few remaining clouds scuttled across the sky as we disembarked, but they were white and soft – promising clearer skies than the storminess of before.  No sooner had we gotten our bearings on the quay than we found ourselves propositioned from all sides by dozens of men of varying ages, arrayed all along the pier in sun- and wind-bleached clothes.  

Ireland Day 7, Part 1: Doolin to Inisheer via ferry

Not gonna lie, even Seattleites don't call this "clear weather".

We have new neighbors, and they moo.  

Considering that I’m a city girl at heart, I surprisingly have a sense that I could get used to this.  The greenness of the hills out the window is simply amazing.  There’s also something pretty funny about having a conversation be punctuated from time to time by a lowing moooo in the background.  Who knows, it might get old after a while, and I might also feel differently if we were downwind.  As it is, I can’t smell the cows, just see and hear them.  All the romanticized benefits without any of the olfactory downsides!

First breakfast at the restaurant downstairs was lovely: muesli (cue immense excitement), homemade brown bread with golden Irish butter (yes, the butter is better here), creamed oatmeal with honey, and melt-in-your-mouth locally smoked salmon with a fluffy mound of scrambled eggs.