Many years ago when the children still lived at home we visited Ireland with my husband’s parents and his brother. We stayed in a small farm cottage out in the sticks in County Galway. It was very basic and, at night, pitch black. And it rained. A lot!
To get to the pub for our nightly pint of Guinness we had to walk across a causeway and past an old church and graveyard. There were no mobile phones to use as torches and the only torch we had was very dim. It was early September so we walked to the pub in the twilight but the trip home was a challenge! Luckily there was no traffic so the causeway remained empty. Even if there was a full moon we never saw it! It was always cloudy and invariably wet. And very dark! Every night I was convinced that I would see a ghost. Fortunately they left me alone!
On the only sunny morning we decided to catch a ferry and sail over to one of the Aran islands called Inishbofin. The last time I’d been on a small boat was when I went Marlin fishing in Mauritius. I was terribly sea sick. To make matters worse I was sent down into the diesel fuelled hull! Eventually the other three passengers joined me and the boat had to turn back. We never saw any fish, let alone tackled a Marlin!
So, it was with trepidation that I climbed onto the little ferry and made my way outside to face the elements and get plenty of fresh air! I can happily confirm that I felt just fine. There was no retching over the rails. The thirty minute trip was, thankfully, uneventful!
Inishbofin is a small island off the coast of Connemara. It’s twelve square kilometres so to circumnavigate it would take about two hours. It has a pretty natural harbour which became one of the most important sailing ship havens on Ireland’s west coast. In the north of the island are sharp cliffs, a breeding ground for all types of birds, guillemots, razorbills and beautiful little puffins.
My parents in law loved museums, as does my husband. Over the years I have whiled away many boring, impatient, wasted hours hanging around them. I haven’t found all exhibits boring but a lot were! However, the museum and heritage centre on Inishbofin was fascinating. It told the story of the history, dating back to the Bronze Age, and day to day life of the inhabitants. It was housed in an old cottage which had a history of its own! During the time of Cromwell, Inishbofin became a penal colony for Catholic clergy and was the last Royal stronghold to fall to Cromwell’s army.
Something I found really strange was the absence of trees. Apparently, many years ago, all the wood had been used for heating and trees had never been replanted. Leaving the museum, I noticed that the sky had begun to darken and the dreaded rain clouds were rolling towards us at break next speed. I was holding a supermarket bag with a bottle of water and some biscuits but had forgotten to pack an umbrella. The heavens soon opened. Standing under a shelter I looked around. Barring my family, no one knew me or would ever see me again. Handing the packet of biscuits to my husband I took the bottle of water out of the bag and tied the bag around my head. I decided that I would rather see something of the island than just sit in a cafe waiting for the family to return. I had never thought of packing a hat! And getting my hair wet was not an option!
I have to confess that the plastic bag was used a few times when out walking. Climbing up and down hills with an umbrella in a howling gale was impractical. I subsequently destroyed the only photograph taken of me! I blamed the magical powers of the Emerald Isle which encouraged me to explore its beautiful rolling hills and dales despite the weather, even if it meant looking like a muppet! Is that an Irish term……..👠
Jenny Burrell 