I don’t know whether there is a god for those about to hurl, but I certainly prayed to some deity during a rough, 45-minute ferry ride from Doolin to Inishmore, the largest of the Aran Islands.
After arriving at Shannon Airport, we made our way to Doolin, a frequent stopping-off point for either the Aran Islands or the stunning Cliffs of Moher — or both. Marilynn hadn’t been on the islands since her first trip to the Emerald Isle 35 years earlier, and Declan and I had never been.
We stayed at Fisherman’s Rest, a great B&B run by Danny and Mairead Guerin. Danny was our main host and had adorned the breakfast area with pennants of various, mostly German, football teams. He and Declan had a long discussion about FC Kaiserslautern. We also had terrific meals and pints at Gus O’Connor’s pub, which Marilynn and I immediately recognized from a trip we took with Walker 25 years ago. Walker fell asleep during the music session, and a man named Paddy (naturally) gave him a Euro coin that I still have at home. My mussels were delicious and more than I could eat, so Marilynn helped.
Hurling (and Not the Irish Sport)
The next morning, after a full Irish breakfast and a Dramamine, it was off to the Doolin Ferry for the longest water leg of our trip. We thought we were fortunate to snag topside seats for the journey. The sky was blue with nary a cloud in the sky. Until it started to rain, and the seas began to roil. Or was that my stomach?
I don’t remember much about the trip, except for holding my umbrella just over my head to ward off the worst of the rain; the water washing over our luggage and splashing me; prayers to the anti-puking god; the single piece of someone’s luggage across the aisle I focused on while waiting for this interminable trip to end; the placebo power of many, many antacids; and the overwhelming desire to kiss the ground once we reached dry land.
More Time to Explore Inishmore
Most tourists do day trips to the islands, scurrying around for a couple of hours before hopping a ferry back. We took our time, spending two nights on Inishmore (Inis Mor) and one night on Inisheer (Inis Oirr), the smallest of the main islands.
We spent the first day orienting ourselves amid the continued spitting rain, checking out the dining options and making plans for our main day of visiting. The island empties at 4 p.m., leaving just 800 residents and however many intrepid visitors book rooms on a particular day.
Declan and I watched the opening Euro 2024 match at Tigh Joe Mac, where Declan made friends with a local named Tommy, who told his friends that Declan was a cousin from America when Declan returned to the pub the following evening.
The following morning, after the rain finally stopped, we rented bikes, which are essential for exploring the island. We packed a lunch and made for the ruins of St. Benan’s Church, supposedly the smallest church in Ireland. After cycling for about 20 minutes, we ditched our bikes and headed through cow fields and broken walls to the highest point on the island. The church dates to the 7th century and measures 11×15. The grounds also include the remnants of a Celtic cross that the cows were lounging around and the base of a round tower about halfway up the hill.
After enjoying our lunch near the church on some flat rocks, we made our way back to the B&B via a graveyard near the shore that also contained the remains of St. Enda’s, a 6th-century monastery that had sunk into the ground.
When we got back on our bikes that afternoon, backsides burning from sitting on tiny seats, we pedaled against near gale-force winds to the ruins of St. Ciaran’s, an 8th- or 9th-century church. Our ultimate destination was the Wormhole, a supposed naturally rectangular blowhole that sits on land reportedly posted as “no trespassing.” Amid spotty cell service that made navigation treacherous, tired asses, and a desire for dinner, we gave up our search for the wormhole and settled for a glimpse of Dun Eochla, a large hilltop ringfort that is free to visit and not as crowded as nearby Dun Aonghasa.
Music Session and Nighttime Church Visit
The next morning after breakfast, it was back to the ferry (!!!) for a smooth 20-minute journey to Inisheer. We beat most of the day-trippers, dropping our bags and snagging a donkey cart ride around the island before the general tumult of the day.
The donkey ride is a great orientation to the island, winding through narrow roads bounded by dry stone walls at every turn. The first stop was the wrecked ship Plassey, which went aground on the island in the 1960s, its cargo of yarn, stained glass, and whiskey lost to the elements. Then it was on to O’Brien’s Castle, the remains of a 15th-century tower house that’s now a national monument. The castle offers stunning views of the Atlantic Ocean on one side and the island itself on the other.
After lunch, we lounged in our room at Tigh Ruairi, a pub/B&B. At one point, Marilynn and Declan checked out the sunken church a short walk away. In the evening, we went to a music session at a local hotel. While Marilynn stayed there, Declan and I retraced his steps from earlier to visit Teampall Caomhán, which dates from the 10th century. Despite it being past 10 p.m., the church was perfectly visible.
The church is dedicated to St. Caomhán (Cavan), the patron saint of the island. We visited just after his feast day (June 14), and candles still burned in his honor. Over time, the church fell into disuse, and drifting sands covered what remained of the church. Dedicated islanders dug out the chancel area of the church and continue to keep it clear.
With the Aran Islands behind us, it’s now on to Limerick.
To Europe ... and Back 