Today was my trip out to Inis Mór, the largest of the three Aran Islands. The tour involved an hour-long bus ride to the ferry, and a 45-minute ferry ride out to the island.
On the ferry ride, I sat beside a 10-year-old boy named Andrew, and we had a nice conversation about colonialism in Africa, the roots of the first World War, the failures of the League of Nations, whether Stalin counts as a war criminal or just a genocidal mad man, and LEGO1. He was a really bright, entertaining kid.
At the island, I got into a tour bus to see the island2. The main thing I wanted to see here was Dun Aengus, a bronze age hill fort. And that was our first stop.
Hiking up, taking the pictures, and hiking down took about 90 minutes, because I am old and arthritic. It was a tough round trip, but I’m glad I did it. I’m even more glad that I don’t have to do it again.
After Dun Aengus and a bite of lunch, we headed off to the Seven Churches.
Our guide also took us to his goat farm, where he raises goats3 and makes goat cheese. Besides meeting the goats4, I got to take a peek at his cheesemaking setup, and now I want to start another batch of cheese when I get home.
Then it was back to Kilronan, the main village on the island, to wait for the ferry.
And then it was back on the ferry, and back on the bus, and back to Galway.
As I sit here writing this blog post, I have come to realize that I might have got a bit too much sun today. Because of course I forgot sunscreen this morning.
Tomorrow, it’s off into the Burren and to the Cliffs of Moher. That should be fun.
- He also told me that I seemed nice, and I told him that I appreciate that, because I work hard to seem nice. [↩]
- Actually, I got into the first bus, then the driver asked me to move to the second bus because he had four people that wanted to go together. I felt so used. [↩]
- Because that couldn’t be inferred from the phrase “goat farm.” [↩]
- And I have never met calmer, friendlier goats in my life. [↩]