Going West

Calling it a long weekend would be a bit of a stretch, as our trip started Friday at noon and ended Wednesday morning. A short week, yes, that sounds much better. And to be honest, due to the variety of activities we undertook and places we visited, it felt like a good few weeks that we were on the road. Proper traveling, with nothing booked beyond the first two nights and an ever changing plan, fuelled by new ideas and changes in the ever fickle weather, made for an entertaining journey. Our shiny means of transport contrasted nicely with our budget accommodation, although we always opted for an ensuite twin room (or booked a dorm room for ourselves when that wasn’t available ;)) in hostels. But in the end, even when considering all the spectacular views, great food, good clubbing and rewarding hiking, it was very much the great company that made the trip such a success.

The journey started Friday around noon in the pouring rain in Dublin; rain which accompanied us all the way to the west where it finally ceased when we reached Ennis late afternoon. The rather plain and uninspiring hostel made for a stark contrast with the restaurant with which it shared a name and a roof, which with its high ceilings, wide open windows overlooking the river, and great food was the perfect venue to start the weekend in style. A few pints in a cosy, wood-paneled pub with a huge bar and some mediocre life music made for the zenith of the night, as our last drinks in the Yolo (including pink tree) cannot be described as a massive success:

Teun: ‘Could I have two glasses of Yellow Spot please’

Barmaid: …

Teun: ‘What whiskey do you have?’

Barmaid: ‘Jameson and Jack Daniels’

Koen: ‘Well let’s go for Jack Daniels then’

Barmaid: ‘There you go’ (pouring the whiskey in a soda glass filled with ice cubes)

Which might have been for the better as both the breakfast in the hostel (served early) and the parking meter (free parking till 9 am or so) incentivised us to rise and shine early. Well… in hindsight it was really the parking meter and not the breakfast that was worth getting up for. Whatever I did manage down my throat however proved valuable energy as neither Koen nor I had really thought ahead which left us leaving the car in the middle of the Burren without any food or water for our 2.5 hour hike and really only a titbit of toast in our bellies. The beautiful landscape and decent weather were more than enough to keep us going however and after a good few hours through the rocky, hilly and very much un-Irish landscape we returned to the car, now very much looking forward to a decent meal. And a decent meal we got! Another winner in a village I forgot the name of served a substantial fish & chips dish (Koen) and a massive salmon salad (Teun) nomnom which left us well equipped for an easy-going stroll at the cliffs of moher. Touristy but nevertheless quite impressive the cliffs made for a nice and relaxed afternoon programme after which we drove to Ennistymon where we checked into the best accommodation of the trip.

Ennistymon, with its 900 inhabitants, doesn’t have loads of accommodation. But this unit, right behind the (small) waterfalls that make for a somewhat noisy and continuous lullaby at night, had it all going for it. Heated by a big stove in the middle of the room, with art on the walls and a guitar player providing background music in the corner, the common room was warm and cosy, with the food (breakfast as well as dinner) an absolute winner. The lamb shank with mashed potato that constituted my meal that Saturday evening went very well with a bottle of red wine and provided a good buffer for the pints that were to follow. The rooms on the third floor, up a creaky staircase, were spacious and spotlessly clean and had great views over the river. After dinner Koen and I followed the LP’s advice into a pub that was supposedly good for whiskey. Well, let’s call that an understatement. Your man had a massive selection of all sorts of whiskey, as well as a very outspoken opinion regarded the contents (‘Yellow Spot, that’s full of honey, that’s why girls like it’ – my favourite!!). We spent an hour sipping gorgeous liquids and learning loads of stuff that I already forgot the details of and left with a very warm and satisfied feeling. Again the pre-last pub was sort of the zenith of the night as the place we ended the night in was admittedly cool because of the throng of locals hanging out there but with an average age of 45 maybe a bit quiet for our Saturday night. Well, what else would you expect in a village of 900 people. Fortunately there’s always Galway to make up for lost ground over the weekend.

Wait, before we go there, some text on the stunning vistas we got to enjoy Sunday during the day. Again the LP wasn’t lying when it said that the ‘scenic loop’ down Loop Head was an understatement. Maybe I had better let the pictures do the talking. Let’s just say that I thought I had by now seen the prettiest parts of Ireland. I hadn’t and probably still haven’t. The cliffs in the south of Clare are of a stunning beauty and rank among the most beautiful natural wonders I have ever seen in my life. Amazing.

Monday morning we woke up with throbbing heads and sore throats, and even by now we haven’t figured out which one of the 17 pints we shared between the two of us was the culprit of all this suffering. A few hours before this rather unwelcome awakening the world was at its most beautiful however; with a spectacular band and a full dance floor I it was Saturday night fever all over again, despite it being a Sunday evening. To be honest my reception of people’s enthusiasm about Galway had always been a bit skeptical; the times that I had been there it hadn’t impressed me at all. Well, that was because I hadn’t been there properly. This time, I loved it. And I’m going back. And I wouldn’t be surprised if Koen ends up visiting Galway again as well, as he might have loved it even more than I did. No pictures this time, just memories of a memorable night.

Where Galway was not part of the initial plan, insofar that existed, at least it was sort of on the route of the initial plan. Westport wasn’t. And climbing Croagh Patrick wasn’t at all. But that’s what came out of my mouth all of a sudden when we were considering plans for Monday afternoon, while sipping our coffees at the coffee bar downstairs the great hostel we stayed at. We could also climb a mountain. As Koen’s hangover wasn’t much better than mine his answer surprised me a little. Yes let’s do it. Ok. Off we go, into the car, navigation turned on, and up north! Please see the results below. Thanks for the great trip Koen!

p.s. Frank, she was 39!