I was looking through documents on my old laptop and found this piece I had written about Clifden, Ireland. It still needs a lot of editing but I wanted to upload it, rough draft and all, because I don't have much up on the blog yet about my travels.
April 20, 2007
Clifden
I went to Ireland in search of a small, green, seaside town like the one I had seen so many times in the movies. I boycotted Dublin all together, heading first to Galway but even this tiny town was filled with crowed streets, tourist shops, and tour buses. My hostel receptionist recommended Clifden- a small seaside town. Set between the Atlantic Ocean, twelve Ben Mountains and preserved boglands, lies the town of Clifden on the Coast of Connemara. It was just the type of place I was looking for.
Clifden, fifty miles northwest of Galway, is the largest town in Connemara and is regarded as its capital. As an Irishman informed me, “Put a pub and three houses together and you’ve got a town!” So even though Clifden is Connemara’s largest town that isn’t saying much. Clifden has a population of 1,355 people.
I arrived in Clifden around seven at night. The bus stop for the town is in front of the public library. Clifden has only two main streets, the one I was on and one parallel to it. Both can be walked from start to end in about five minutes. The streets are lined with pubs, shops, a “Traditional Irish Food grocery store”, a video store and a bike shop. After checking into my hostel I headed across the street to Mannion’s bar, a white building with blac
k trim and an archway for a front door. The inside is made of wood and the soft lighting makes everything in the bar appear golden. Mannion’s is the locals hangout, children run through the bar playing as their parents tell jokes over Guinness beer and Jameson mixed with ginger ale. To the back is a pool table and on the walls are pictures and newspaper clippings of Pilots Alcock and Brown, who landed near Clifden on June 15, 1919 after the first successful transatlantic flight.
I woke up early the next morning, rented a bike and headed for Sky Road. Sky Road, a seven mile bike ride along Clifden Bay and Streamstown Bay, rises more than 150 m above sea level at its peak, with views of the Atlantic, Clifden Castle, coast-guard station, the islands of Inishturk and Turbot and the town. Within the first mile of Sky Road is a large rock archway. I parked my bike against the archway and began to walk down the dirt path hoping this was the way to Clifden Castle. In the beginning of the 19th Century John d'Arcy- the founder of Clifden and the local landlord, lived in Clifden Castle. If you walk through the gate, down the dirt path, past the “private property sign,” over a stream, over a barbed wire fence, up a field with yellow and white flowers, and under another barbed wire fence- there is the Castle. It sits hidden, placed on a little plateau.
From abov
e, the way I came, the Castle is concealed, and from below on the ocean shore (as I discovered later) it is also invisible to the eye. It is a secluded wonder, a structure of grey rock faded from the wind and rain that has whipped it for past century. The roof and stories (it looked like there were three) have all fallen in. Inside the Castle, the floors are now reduced to rubble, moss, flowers growing through the ground, and mud. Looking up, through the center tower, which is covered in green ivy, is a circular sphere of blue sky, with the occasional jet black bird flying past. One room’s walls have been carved into, leaving indented names and initials in its rock walls. By climbing out a window in the back of the castle I entered its backyard. Green and overgrown lays a field that is held in on three sides by rock walls. The fourth side- at the back, directly in front of me opens up to a new location. Stepping inside I feel as though I am a young girl entering “The
Secret Garden.” Tiny old stone buildings line the inside of these new four walls, over grown branches hang over their entrance ways, ivy covering their walls. The rooms are all different sizes. I imagine they were once used to hold the farm animals. The small rooms- no more than 5ft by 5ft must have held the chickens. While the larger rooms, maybe 8ft by 12 ft, must have been for a horse or two. White, yellow and purple flowers peak through its floor. I walk in cautiously, afraid of some insect or creature that I may encounter. The secret garden turns out to be a harmless play place for the imagination and no tiny insects come after me. The birds can be heard up ahead chirping in the overgrown trees. The smell of moisture, dirt and wet grass fills my nostrils. I walked out of the gardens through the two rectangular rock beams that I imagine were once a doorframe. From there I have a clear view of rolling fields and the ocean below. The mist is thick and the skyline is a dark grey. Still, there is much beauty in front of me. The ocean is a blue metal color, soft hills behind it, and then the landscape fades into the fog.
For the rest of the bike ride I cycled past several sheep farms and hundreds of sheep with spray painted colors (to identify which farm they belong to) of red and blue and green. There were also donkeys and cows eating among the grassy landscape and limestone rock. Horses galloped freely in front yards. Horses are an important livestock to the people in the Connemara County. Sturdy horses were needed in Connemara, with its uneven and rocky terrain. As a result of these conditions, a breed of pony known as the Connemara Pony, evolved. This breed has become famous world-wide. The Connemara Pony Show is a Mecca for breeders of Connemara Ponies, and takes place in Clifden each August.
Midway through my bike ride was a fork, I could take the high road for great views, or the low road and ride along the ocean. I chose high road. The high road climbs 500ft, which I was not aware of before my excursion. If you are not in amazing shape I would not recommend biking, instead taking a leisurely car ride would be a much pleasanter way of seeing
Clifden’s landscape. It was overcast and I welcomed the cool mist spraying on my face because I was sweating from the intense uphill biking. The mist seems to carry the smell of the ocean- filling my nostrils and whipping my hair. I cycled past boglands. Green wet lands, mud and rocks. I cycled past the tall green weeds that swayed in the wind.
The uphill struggle paid off, as the view at the peak of the hill was breathtaking. Down bellow I could see the ocean; a white life house propped at the tip of a rocky cliff, which, from where I stood, looked like a large tombstone; the Clifden Castle; small, colorful homes painted in pink and coral colors; and, of course, hundreds of sheep grazing in the fields below.
I re-entered the town passing the Neo-Gothic Catholic Church with spires that seem to reach the sky. Later that night I headed back to Mannion’s bar for my first shot of Jameson and some live traditional Irish music. It was a Sunday night but even so the bar was packed. It was a lively atmosphere- three men played and sang while locals clapped along. A Tourist sitting up close took video footage with his camera (I guess I wasn’t the only person to find this little pearl of Ireland). The bar top seemed to bounce with the beat as feet stomped, drunken voices rose, and beer flowed.
I was only in Clifden for two days. Those two days were peaceful, relaxing, and filled with a beauty. In the end, that short period of time was not enough. I didn’t have a chance to go out fishing, or ride a horse on the beach at sunset. Clifden may be small, with no strip mall or tour bus in sight, but there is always plenty to do and see.
There are several outdoor activities to try like deep sea fishing, a lighthouse cruise, kayaking or surfing lessons, to name a few.
Katie enjoying the view
I wanted my picture taken too! Photo by: James Brophy
Beautiful homes along the walkway
I made a friend :)
SEAL CUB!
Another successful weekend of summer family fun!
