Arrived in Doolin early evening. Hadn’t realised it was only spitting distance from the Cliff of Moher which I hadn’t originally planned to visit as I had been told it was a bit overrated (better to go to Slieve League in the North West past Sligo, two to three times higher) but had worked out my planned day trip up there was rather ambitious, just too far. Wasn’t particularly impressive. Did see one stupid American chancing his life on the side of the cliff in front of some female friends. Plain stupid.
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| The Cliffs of Moher |
Arrived in Doolin early evening. Hadn’t realised it was only spitting distance from the Cliff of Moher which I hadn’t originally planned to visit as I had been told it was a bit overrated (better to go to Slieve League in the North West past Sligo, two to three times higher) but had worked out my planned day trip up there was rather ambitious, just too far. Wasn’t particularly impressive. Did see one stupid American chancing his life on the side of the cliff in front of some female friends. Plain stupid.
Doolin is a very small near coastal village south of Galway seemingly broken into three distinct sections, each separated by c.500m and each with at least one pub. I had dinner at Fitzpatrick pub the night before (sea bass and scallops with a mountain of mash, very good but pricey by Irish standards) whilst watching Spain vs Portugal.
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| Aillie River Hostel, Doolin (my accommodation for two night). Run by an Aussie, Anne. |
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| Doolin cemetary - every square inch of grass within it is a grave site. Impossible to walk through without walking all over grave sites. |
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| One third of Doolin |
A local from up the road in Fanore (owned a B&B there) whom was a frequent visitor to the Aran Islands said the weather forecast wasn’t great and that it wasn’t going to be a good day at all to visit the islands. I heeded his advice and decided it’d go for a run through the hills instead to burn off some excess calories, knowing that there was a chance of rain.
Well about 6km up the road near Ballylacken Castle the heavens opened up. It wasn’t particularly cold and almost a little humid so running conditions were still ok. Decided to press on up into the hills to Lisdoonvarna (another 6km), to find the Burren Smokehouse, renowned for their smoked salmon. They had both cold and hot smoked salmon (prefer the cold smoked) and mackerel. I was dripping wet and starting to get cold….needed a pub with a fireplace, some seafood chowder and a guinness. The Roadside Tavern up the road did the trick, except for the fireplace. Turns out they made their own beer too (Burren Micro Brewery). The owner was sitting next to me and the head brewer next to him. The brewer said he had visited Perth and Sydney in the early 70s as a sailor. Kings Cross was mad back then, with the US navy somewhat responsible for bringing hard drugs into Sydney. He’d never experienced anything like it. Recollections were vague at best.
Another 8-10km back to the hostel (no GPS), via a few roadside sights. Legs felt fine but hip started to play up slightly, perhaps the couple extra kilos I’m carrying already. Felt much better for the run though. Need to get out more often if I’m going to offset all the ciders.
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| Burren Smokehouse, Lisdoonvarna |
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| Outskirts of Doolin |
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| Doolin Pub |
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| Lisdoonvarna |
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| Doolin pub signage |
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