I don't remember how long ago I first heard about the Aran Islands, but they've always been part of my Irish imagination. Most of their residents speak Irish first and English as a courtesy to visitors. We spent a super-sunny day taking a ferry out to visit Inisheer (Inis Oirr), the smallest and nearest of the three islands. Rich blue water, rocky terrain and bright blue skies made Inisheer feel almost Mediterranean.


At the ferry dock, visitors are given four transportation choices for exploring the island: minibus, pony cart, bicycle, or foot. Guess which one we chose!

Just a few of the sights that greeted us as we clip-clopped along the main road:

Inisheer and the other islands offer glimpses of a more traditional Ireland, including plenty of houses with thatched roofs ... and others that lost their roofs some time ago.

Since there are no trees on Inisheer, building materials consist mainly of rock, stone, and more rock.

It seems as if every place we visited in Ireland had its own collection of flowers, usually allowed to grow gloriously untamed.

We noticed something unusual about a few of Inisheer's horses. Do you see it? Our ponycart driver Martin didn't have much of an explanation about it or seem to think it was particularly unusual, but I've never seen a horse with a mustache before.

Doesn't Curtis look like he should be in an ad for Coca-Cola? Or maybe Irish Spring? "Manly, yes, but I like it too!"

So let's talk about these rock walls. They are everywhere, almost maze-like, stacked without mortar so they can be moved and reassembled as needed. Martin said that the islanders gather the stones so they can use the fields. Building walls to divide the land into these small plots is more practical than piling all of the stones in one central location, Martin said. "That way they're handy when they're needed."

Livestock find plenty to eat by periodically being moved from one walled area to the next.

Most of the walls have a loose look to them, with gaps plenty big enough to see daylight through. A few look as if the stone had been sawed into equal lengths in order to be arranged more tightly. I'm sure there's a good reason for both.

We loved our ponycart ride, even though our poor pony was a bit overtaxed by having to lug a total of 7 full-grown people up and down the hilly roads of Inisheer. When we got to this spot, I thought Martin was asking whether we'd like for him to take us up to the ruins of O'Brien's Castle. I enthusiastically said yes and prepared myself for the ride uphill. Everyone else just looked at me with a touch of disgust and began climbing out of the cart. Oooooooooohhhhhh. Martin had asked if we wanted him to drop us off at this point in order to climb up to the castle. Does it look like it would be a challenging hike? It was. But that's what we were there for, right?

The castle was built in the 15th century and is surrounded by an ancient ring fort. As had become her custom, Maggie promptly found a way to climb up to the highest point. This alarmed a nice lady tourist, who insisted on steadying Maggie's feet as she climbed down.

For centuries Christian pilgrims have made their way to the Aran Islands. At one point this was a hotbed of monastic activity, although only ruins still stand today.

After our exhausting bit of climbing, we needed rest and refreshment. Where else to head but the local pub?

All sorts of boats come in and out of Inisheer's little port, and the town seems to wake up when new boats come in then take a nap in between. Our ferry was the one in the top photo.

Goodbye, Inisheer, land of stone wall labyrinths, horses with mustaches, and blue, blue skies! May you continue to stand strong in the midst of battering waves and brutal winds.

Going over the deep place,

O God of patience, take them by the hand

in case of a blow from a strong wave.

O Mary, look out for them

and don't leave them.

Irish blessing for going to sea

If you ever go to Doolin, be sure to look up Ted McCormac. Everyone in town knows him because he's genuinely friendly and a real character. His daughter Cindy owns the cottage we rented, and Ted lives just a few steps up the hill from the cottage.



Most evenings Ted can be found at O'Connor's Pub, "singing a few tunes with the boys." I wish we'd gotten a recording of Ted performing -- he's got a terrific baritone voice and sings with both gusto and tenderness.

Our main reason for visiting Doolin was to hear the traditional music sessions it's become known for around the world. The town's three pubs have become sort of a mecca for musicians from Europe thanks to local musicians who've made it big over the years. In the photos below, I believe that only Ted and his two white-haired friends were locals -- all of the others had made a beeline there from France and Germany in order to show off their Irish musical chops for the crowd. There was much jockeying for positions, which made me glad I'd decided to leave my own wooden flute and tin whistles packed in my suitcase. I definitely could not have kept up!


Another night we visited our second Doolin pub, McDermott's. We enjoyed not being quite so tightly packed in with other listeners. Each pub has its own personality, unique decor and dedicated regulars. And in case you've always wondered what a pub really is, Rick Steves writes:
Pubs are a basic part of the Irish social scene, and, whether you're a teetotaler or a beer-guzzler, they should be a part of your travel here. "Pub" is short for "public house." It's an extended living room where, if you don't mind the stickiness, you can feel the pulse of Ireland. Smart travelers use pubs to eat, drink, get out of the rain, watch the latest sporting event, and make new friends. Pub grub gets better every year -- it's Ireland's best eating value. You're a guest on your first night; after that, you're a regular.

Do you see the little guy enjoying his visit? During one song he started the whole room clapping, and another tune set his toes tapping.


These were the local musicians whose music he was enjoying. They were missing their third band member, a woman who plays whistle and sings. Dang. That would have been fun to hear!

Curtis and I loved the pub scene. Maggie and Tyler mostly enjoyed it. An hour was about as much as Maggie could take at one sitting, and Tyler was not quite as keen on Irish whiskey as he'd imagined he might be, but people-watching and table-hopping to get closer to the musicians were worthy consolations.

Curtis took his mp3 recorder to most of the sessions, although I can't figure out to share any of those files here. I'll keep working on it, and in the meantime here's a really dark, grainy snippet shot by our travel videographer (Tyler) at Doolin's third pub, McGann's.

We will drink this drink as Patrick would drink it,

full of grace and spilling over,

without fighting or quarrelling or hint of shame,

or knowing that we will last until tomorrow.

We ask the help of our Mother Mary,

for she is support at all times.

This is our toast to all here present,

and may the Son of Grace be helping us.

Irish drinking a health blessing

After our Cliffs of Moher excursion, we came home and got gussied up for a medieval dinner at Dunguaire Castle about an hour away in Kinvarra. You might be interested to know that we tried and heard several possible pronunciations of Dunguaire:
dun-gware? definitely not, silly Americans!
doon-garry? only the dinner reservations lady pronounced it this way
dun-gwarr or dun-gwarray? seemed to be the most popular

Anyway, Dunguaire Castle is actually another fortified tower house built in the 1500s, but it felt plenty castle-y to us.



We got there a bit early for our dinner and used that time to walk along a lovely little path around the castle. So many growing things!

I believe this was my single "portrait photography" opportunity of the entire trip. I had to act quickly even to get these!

Especially because Maggie was in full-blown photo bomber mode that day. It's her new favorite thing to do ...

... and she even taught Curtis how to do it.

Finally the time came for our royal entrance.

We were first welcomed into the castle foyer, where we were served a cup of mead for a toast. Our maidservant said that she had plenty more if we needed refills, so, being thirsty, I pretty well chugged mine immediately. It was really sweet and tasty.

Have I ever mentioned that I'm not much of a drinker? I was tipsy after that one little cup.

Soon our servants performed a song or two and invited us upstairs for dinner and entertainment. I wish I remembered our manservant's name because he has a terrific voice and is about to embark upon a career in the opera. You'll just have to believe me when he's famous someday and I insist "I knew him when!"

For some people, this was a romantic, candlelit evening. For the four of us, it was just another opportunity to cut up and annoy one another. See what an accomplished photo bomber Tyler is becoming?

A full crew came out to fill our dinner plates, which were then served by our three multi-talented musicians. We had been a little bit apprehensive about what our dinner might include. Boar's head? Huge turkey legs? Turns out we needn't have worried because it was good ol' boneless chicken, green beans, potatoes and carrots.

After dinner we were treated to a collection of Irish songs, folklore and poetry. Again, these three really did a terrific job together.

Doongarry, Dungware, Dungwarray, Dunguaire Castle, we thouroughly enjoyed ourselves, even though we may never know how to correctly say your name!

Praise to the King of Plenty.

Praise every time to God.

A hundred praises and thanks to Jesus Christ,

for what we have eaten and shall eat.
Irish grace after meals

We ventured into downtown Doolin on our second day there. It turned out to be even tinier than we'd imagined. Our first stop was the Traditional Music Shop, where I looked for tunebooks to share with my Celtic music buddy Margaret, and Tyler was hoping to find a top-notch bouzouki, sort of an overgrown mandolin. I hit the jackpot; Tyler did not. He and Maggie both found our shopping experience to be a bit disappointing.

Fortunately there was still much more to see in and around Doolin, such as this tower house keeping watch over the countryside, hay fields getting their summer haircuts, and cattle soaking up the intermittent sunlight.

Oh, and the Cliffs of Moher! This is just a small section of the five miles of sheer cliffs that rise as much as 650 feet above the Atlantic. Breathtaking, huh?

Like lots of other folks that day, we walked along the edge of the cliffs and climbed up to O'Brien's Tower at their highest point.

This was a great spot for admiring the cliffs ...

... hearing talented musicians ...

... admiring wildflowers ...

... and meeting new friends!

It was a really nice day indeed.

Greeting: God greet you. (in Gaelic: Dia duit.)

Reply: God and Mary greet you. (in Gaelic: Dia's Muire duit.)

During our 4-hour drive north from Dingle to Doolin, we passed through miles and miles (kilometers and kilometers) of idyllic green hills and valleys.

Here's a lucky auto-focus shot through my window:

After following less-than-clear directions and doing lots of guessing and praying, we finally reached the hilltop cottage where we would spend our next 6 nights. It was considerably larger than we needed -- 5 bedrooms, 2 living rooms, 2 bathrooms, large kitchen -- but really a nice house with incredible views in all directions. A good while after returning from a leisurely Italian dinner, Curtis noticed this view of the sunset from our front door:

The sun sets at about 9:30 at this time of year in Ireland, and the sky stays light until nearly midnight. We stepped outside to get a better look at the sunset. Our cottage was within 2 miles of the Atlantic Ocean.

Looking toward the left (south) we could see the edge of the Cliffs of Moher; to the right (north) was Galway Bay and "the wild western Irish fringe known as Connemara."

Right at our feet were typical flowers found in many gardens in this part of Ireland:

The front of our cottage, our trusty rental car, and one glad-to-be-off-the-road Curtis. Ahhhhhhhh, home!

O King of brightness and the sun who knows our worth,

be with us every day,

be with us every night,

be with us every night and day,

be with us every day and night.

Irish blessing