Today, we said goodbye to Galway — or should I say Gullway, since the seagulls competed with the drunks outside our window for who could be louder at two in the morning. At least the gulls were a natural sound.

We walked through Eyre Square with our luggage to reach the shuttle scheduled to take us to Rossaveal and the ferry to the island of Inishmore. I waited on a bench while Jeff made a detour to get us Subway sandwiches for a picnic lunch on the island. I took a few pictures of Eyre Square because I don’t anticipate going back to Galway. The people were nice enough, but it’s a little too big for this small town girl. I’m sure Dublin will be the same way when we get there.

The shuttle was completely packed. The seats were made to be uncomfortable for anyone over five feet tall. I did well to stand up after having my knees pressed into the back of the seat in front of me for an hour. The ferry was much more comfortable, although for about half of it, I had to sit with my eyes closed to avoid getting seasick.

We arrived at Kilronan on Inishmore, and all thoughts of what was wrong in the world vanished. It was exactly what I thought an Irish village would be. We disembarked with a few hundred other passengers, most of whom were just day trippers. The Seacrest Bed and Breakfast was only a short walk from the pier, and Geraldine met us at the door, mop in hand, as she was cleaning house. She was a really lovely lady, and when we asked about booking a pony cart tour, she called her husband to arrange for a late afternoon ride. While we waited, we ate our lunch on their patio and petted a horse that came up to investigate us. Then we went for a walk on the streets of Kilronan, where we found a Spar grocery store that will do us for snacks to take on the road tomorrow, and stopped into a shop for possible souvenirs.

There were neat townhouses on the roads alongside ruined cottages and churches.

Jeff had a lot of fun taking pictures of interesting things.

We walked for a couple of hours and then went back to our room for a little rest before the tour. At around 4:30 we started off with Geraldine’s daughter driving the “new cart” while her dad, Thomas, put the other horses and cart away for the evening. She told us about daily life on the island, and what it was like to grow up there. It was easy to tell from the distinct accents that English was a second language to most everyone on the island, as it is an Irish heritage center and everyone speaks Irish Gaelic among themselves.

After about ten minutes, she stopped the cart and offered to let us walk up to the ruin of St. Kieran’s Church, built in the 9th century. People still like to renew their vows amid the ruined sanctuary. We went up for a look while she drove next door to switch out jobs with her father, who then met us with the cart when we were through. The church was in the middle of a cow pasture, so we were not able to go inside. Nevertheless, it was an interesting walk.

Thomas took over the tour and told us stories about the island as we drove along, dodging day tripping bicyclists and tour vans. In one story, he pointed out the remains of a lighthouse on a hill fairly far inland. Apparently, the 18th century English decided they wanted a lighthouse on this Irish island, perhaps as a show of control. They built a great deal of it before they realized they were building in a wildly wrong place — something all the locals already knew, but no one said a word about it to the English. “They did good stonework, I’ll give them that,” Thomas said to conclude the story.

Midway through the tour, we stopped at Dun Aonghasa, a stone fort from about 1500 B.C. Thomas was not able to take us up the steep climb with the horses, so we had to walk up ourselves. Most of the time, I felt like Frodo and Sam going up the side of Mt. Doom. It was extremely steep with slippery, uneven rocks for a pathway. After about 30 minutes and some aching feet and knees, we finally reached the top. We went through a doorway that opened up on a semicircular area that went all the way to the edge of a sheer cliff. Jeff inched closer to the edge to try to get a shot with his GoPro on a stick, and I begged him not to get too close.

Nevertheless, he got close enough to see over and shock himself into stepping back a healthy distance.

I used the time taking in the cliffs and the ocean to catch my breath, and then we headed back down on those same jagged rocks. I am worn out even now.

Thomas took us back to Kilronan on another route, where he pointed out a man building another of the thousands of stone walls that cover the island. He let us know the skill it takes to build a wall of rocks with no mortar, and admired the man being the fourth generation of his family with this skill. Wall building is not something you see everyday.

When we returned to the Seacrest, Jeff paid Thomas 60 euro for the experience, a supremely reasonable price. We then went over to The Bar for supper. We had thought we might catch the traditional Irish singer who was featured, but the interior was so packed at the bar and in the dining room, we decided to eat outside on the patio. It got chilly, but we decided we would rather be able to breathe than be pressed on all sides in a smoke filled room. Jeff got a good burger and fries, and I ordered something I hadn’t tried before, chicken stuffed with spinach and mozzarella. Both our meals were good. Then we went back to the room to shower and get ready for bed. Tomorrow we will catch a ferry to Doolin to see the Cliffs of Moher.