The Luck o' the Irish meets the Cliffs of Moher

Last Friday, I got on a plane bound for Leipzig. But since I was still on a month-long journey of the unexpected, of course, I ended up in Shannon, Ireland instead. At this point, there were only two viable options: lament the cancelled plans in Leipzig or get busy making news plans in Shannon. OK, scratch that. There was only one viable option.

With the help of the hotel staff, we quickly lined up a driver and guide to take us to the ever elusive Cliffs of Moher. I should stop here to acknowledge that it is a bit odd to describe Ireland’s most visited attraction, which has existed for 300 million years or so as ‘elusive’, but I have been trying to get to this place for ages and something (usually a combination of not enough time and/ or Guinness on tap) has always intervened. These Cliffs have eluded the hell out of me.

This day was different. With James Ryan, our gregarious, story-telling driver leading the way, we were soon walking among some of the most dramatic windswept panorama imaginable. The Cliffs are impressive beyond words and handily deserving of their inclusion in the list of candidates for the 7 Natural World Wonders (to be announced in 2011). It was an easy paved walk from the car park up to the O’Brien’s Tower, which James informed us we were supposed to kick. To be honest, I did not see anyone assault the tower in such a manner, but not wanting to risk the luck of the Irish, I waited until no one was looking and did my quick Beckham impersonation. For 2 euro, we then climbed the freshly-kicked tower for views extending out to the Aran Islands. The word ‘spectacular’ seems somehow inadequate

Next on our agenda was a stop in the small, musically-rich town of Doolin. We went to Gus O’Connor’s Pub in hopes of finding some live entertainment, but found out we were too late for the afternoon band and too early for the evening one. Undaunted, we stayed for lunch and a pint or two. I ordered a cheese tart made with locally produced St. Tola’s goat cheese that was ridiculously good. Had I been myself or possessed a total disregard for public perception, I’m certain I could have eaten two or three of them.

I had mentioned to James that I was concerned that my camera battery was about to meet a very untimely end. He advised me to not go too crazy at the Cliffs because there was still more to see. Poor James obviously does not know me very well. I went to town on the Cliffs, the Tower and everything in-between, but luckily still had enough juice for our next stop. That would be the Poulnabrone Portal Tomb or Dolmen, as it is called. The limestone megalith dates back to somewhere between 4200 and 2900 BC, making it potentially older than the Pyramids of Giza, and marks the spot of a mass burial ground. It is also, in my opinion, more photogenic.

One final stop was Leamaneh Castle, the remains of the home of Mad Mary O’Brien, whose loyalties changed depending on who was in power, allowing her to retain some pretty nice digs. She was but one of the many historical characters James regaled us with.

It was hard to believe but between the beautiful scenery, the entertaining stories and the good food, beer and company, seven hours had passed and our tour had come to an end. It was as unexpected as it was lucky...and all the more reason to go around kicking towers.