As anyone who follows us on Facebook will already know, we have moved around quite a bit recently. From Killarney, to a three week road-trip with family, to working in the Connemara, a quick stop in Galway and now settled and working in Dublin for our last few months in Ireland.
I could be completely diplomatic and say we have moved to Dublin for "unforseen circumstances" but frankly, as much as I love Dublin, I am still a little sad we had to move from the Connemara. We were settled in, with a good routine and good friends. Unfortunately the tiny fact of not getting paid for our work got in the way. It's one of those unfortunate possible downsides of travel, and one I am surprised we haven't run into before now. If you ever find yourself in a similar situation, know your rights, stand up for yourself and don't be afraid to walk away.
Regardless of how we left things - the Connemara remains one of my favourite natural treasures of Ireland and I would be remiss in my duties as a vicarious travel guide if I did not take you on a virtual tour.
The Connemara is a undefined district in the semi-north west of County Galway, just north of Galway city itself.
I can define it best by its casual melding of the wild Atlantic coast with its string of mountains - known as 'the Twelve Pins' - which somehow manages to look harsh and rocky, and lush and green all at the same time. It is a relatively small area (even for Ireland) famous for its green marble, handicrafts and a particular breed of ponies.
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| photo by: vjmarisphotos |
A lot of travellers through the area tend to polarize between two extremes.
Either those on a quick day tour - spending a few hours either on a large coach bus, or sometimes self driven, who stop off for lunch but generally see what they can from their window seat.
Or the extreme adventurers - serious hikers or mountain bikers who can spend weeks making their way around the region (which is not the easiest terrain to scale).
Somehow Alex and I managed to find ourselves somewhere in the easy middle, both getting hopelessly lost with Lyn, driving around the winding backroads (and considering how few roads there are to begin with that's saying something!) and spending our precious few days off in Letterfrack trying (and not entirely succeeding) to hike Diamond Hill.
Although personally I think calling the Diamond a hill is more akin to calling Uluru a rock. I mean it is technically, but seriously!
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| The view from Diamond Hill. photo by: janmennens |
What the frack is Letterfrack?
Letterfrack (or the Gaelic Leitir Fraic) is a tiny village around halfway if you were travelling around the Connemara in a loop.
It has a population of around 200 and hosts the entrance to the Connemara National Park. When we first pulled into town I remember remarking that the town is essentially a single crossroads. It has a small shop, a butchers, a small hardware store, three pubs and a single policeman - who is so rarely in his police station, he generally leaves a scribbled note on the door.
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| photo by: infomatique |
The town is everything I had missed in Killarney and our six weeks there were so full of character, both in charm and local history as well as people. It's where I learned to pull a pint of Guinness, and fought to pull a pint of Carlsberg. I met some really brilliant people, some of whom will probably read this so I won't name names, and some interesting sorts.
After six months in Killarney I really thought I had the accents down but there are locals there whose accents are so thick - they can't even understand each other!
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| Especially after a few drinks! photo by stephmouss |
Along the thin single lane roads it is quite normal for locals to stop and chat between vehicles or to those on foot, even if it means stopping all traffic for ten minutes. Other common traffic stoppages include the sheep who often graze beside the road and often wander onto it - bringing the locals who rip along the roads like the Indy 500 to either an abrupt stop or a bit of off-roading.
Why the Connemara - of all places?
There is something about the quiet isolation that I find beautiful. It is not always convenient as I discovered when I had to go to hospital in Galway. After I hitched a ride with friends for the almost two hour drive in, I then had to rush the doctors as their standard 4-6 hour processing time meant I almost missed the last (and one of only three daily) buses back to Letterfrack.
But while we drove into Galway - me trying very hard not to be ill in the backseat - I was overwhelmed by the feeling that our little car seemed the only one in existence, and so small and insignificant next to the towering mountains and vast lakes.
Whilst there is so much natural beauty in Ireland - it is worth the effort to detour through the Connemara, even if the weather is terrible (which to be fair - it often is). Our first day driving through we had pulled over for a moment due to sheep interference and could see all the way from our hilltop out to the Atlantic. It was literally awe inspiring and silenced everyone in the car (a decent feat) for more than a few minutes. I dove for my camera as the baa-ing of the nearby sheep brought me back to my senses but to my bad luck not a single photo came out due to the misty weather.
I guess some things aren't meant to be caught on camera - whether it be us surrounded by sheep on a hill, the feeling of pure insignificance surrounded by a mountain range or the charming atmosphere of a small town on a hill. They are all different, complex kinds of beautiful.
And are all waiting in the Connemara.
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