The West

I’ve always been told by people that they had been told by other people that Ireland’s really pretty. You know, what’s beyond Dublin and Cork and the like, beyond the cities and towns and into the real Ireland. On previous trips to Glendalough and Carlingford, Ireland had already showed its prettiness to me, but it hadn’t seemed too wild. It’s been a cultivated prettiness, with marked hiking trails and some tourists here and there and an area that could be overseen from the top of the hill that marked the most awesome spot of the trip. This ‘bank holiday weekend’ I found out about that other part of Ireland, the part that mesmirises people and starts living its own life in the tales and stories people tell one another, so that in the end everyone kind of knows that Ireland is pretty but few people have witnessed its raw beauty in its full might. I have now, or at least a tiny bit of it, and I can’t wait to explore more.

Connemara. Just google it and you’ll instantly be rewarded with pictures showing dazzling landscapes and wild ponies (don’t ask me about the latter). It’s a stretch of land covering multiple counties in the west of Ireland and is so wild and generally uninhabitable that its population density has remained very low. As the land does not allow for much more than sheep herding its natural beauty has been preserved very well over the past centuries, while EU regional development funds have made sure that the infrastructure is top notch. Together this allows for the slightly paradoxal experience of experiencing raw, fairly unspoilt nature, while driving comfortably on a recently constructed road. Apart from the marked hiking trail in Connemara National Park –which wasn’t quite matching expectations because the foggy weather basically prohibited us from gorging on the spectacular views that the route supposedly holds- Bo and I explored Connemara by driving through it and getting out of the car every so often to explore yet another unique spot or viewpoint of stretch of land or river or what not. And while the great-quality roads wouldn’t be the reason for holding up travellers on their journey, Connemara’s perpetual inhabitants are; sheep and cows who are pretentiously unaware of where their semi-fenced territory ends and the road begins roam around unconcerned and stare indifferently into the headlights of any approaching car.

Impressive as well are the Cliffs of Moher; 200 metre tall stretches of sheer rock formation rising up from the sea, withstanding the merciless beating of ceaseless waves while overlooking the Atlantic ocean and guarding Ireland’s west coast. Gorging on their might from the sea was impressive to begin with, but staring down at the depths below while lying flat on the belly all the way up there is a treat for the senses unparalleled by much else. Peeking over the edge, down the vertical rock formations, while seagulls soar in the vast space between you and the depths below, watching wave after wave crushing the rocks, features the peculiar sensation of feeling adrenaline rush through your veins while being completely motionless as all that’s moving really are your eyes.

I could keep on writing about Connemara. Easily. If I ever get to write my book this is a place to get inspired. And reading back this blog post I’m really not satisfied with what I’ve scribbled down, as it’s nothing compared to the sentences that spun through my mind when I was roaming through Connemara’s natural bliss. Well, as I’m a satisfier I’ll still post this blog, along with pictures that don’t even approximate the true sights, and perhaps one of these days I’ll give it another try and write down something more profound. Connemara-worthy, that is. For now I’m calling this bank holiday a day and I’m going to sleep, as it’s been a long and awesome weekend. Soon more and better!!