Jack McDade

Day Seven – The Cliffs of Insanity

Posted on 05. Apr, 2009 by Jack in Ireland

Today was a day of pretty high anticipation, as everyone we’ve talked to raved about none other than the Cliffs of Moher. Jen was skeptical, quite sure that nothing could live up to the hype it received. I, however, wanted it to be everything I imagined.

For those of you who are unaware, the Cliffs of Moher are located on the western coast of Ireland, right next to the little (in size, not in heart) village of Doolin. They are the most visited attraction in the country, not surprisingly. Towering 214 meters (700 feet) above the Atlantic Ocean, the cliffs crash literally straight down. Stairs are built along the edge with a wall preventing all but the most foolish from crawling to the edge. Also, the Cliffs of Insanity referenced in The Princess Bride are in fact, the Cliffs of Moher, and were filmed here.

Now that the geography lesson is done, let me just say this. The Cliffs of Moher are beyond describing. It’s as if you’re watching a movie or some exotic and breathtaking scenery on the biggest Imax screen in the world. It’s just plain surreal to see something of that magnitude in both size and beauty right in front of you. Every picture I took of Jen and I looked superimposed and Photoshopped. Every picture i took of the cliffs by themselves looked like something i downloaded on the internet (for those of you who are unaware, the internet is a network of computers tied together allowing people to access and share information from the comfort of their own terminals. Just thought you’d like to know). It was windy, but we didn’t care. We stared at the cliffs for as long as our skin would allow, as we walked up and down the paths from the North, Main, and South Landings. If you had but 2 days in Ireland, I’d make sure this was on your list (a recommendations post coming upon completion of our trip, fyi!).

Back on the road, wind-blown and warming up, we aimed north for The Burren, a barren lime-stone laden region that follows the coast. Quite an impressive landscape, the limestone supposedly is leftover from glacial receding, quite literally “arctic tundra”, and in mid-spring Mediterranean flowers bloom through the rocks making it a truly unique hybrid not seen anywhere else in the world.

Late in the afternoon we arrived at Bunratty Castle, back south again after the loop through The Burren. It is at this point where we got to eat our first humble pie. Or giant crow. Pick your metaphor, it doesn’t matter to me. We made an honest mistake in our bookings after being deceived (accidentally however) by no less than 3 websites. Our intentions were to stay in a castle while in Ireland. Why not? It’s a bit more expensive but hey you only live once right? We looked at a few — Adare Manor, Dromoland Castle, Something Something, and so on, each of them calling the lodging part of the castle the “So and So Castle Hotel” or “Dromoland Castle Hotel”. So we made a list. Ordered them by beauty, location, price and so on. Well, we saw the Bunratty Castle Hotel, and by the way it was described, it seemed like another such place. And it included a Medieval Banquet in the Main Dining Hall of the castle. Awesome. Plus it was cheaper than the others. Even more awesome. Done. Booked.

Problem. It’s tough to tell the perspective and size of a building in just a photo. Once we pulled up to the castle we realized we made a mistake. It was much, much too small to have both a tour and banquet, and a hotel. However just to make sure I had to ask. Of course the woman looked at me like i had two-heads. No one stays at the Bunratty. They thought I was absurd. To them. How would we know right? Oh well. The hotel was across the street. And too ritzy looking for our traveling state. Oh sure i can dress up with the best of them, but at this point — way out of our comfort zone. Too fancy.

Everything worked out in the end though, we got refunded all but our 6 euro deposit (no big deal), and we got out of paying for the banquet. It was unfortunate though because we were really looking forward to eating a feast with our hands. But 50 euro each (roughly $140 USD) is way, way too much to be worth it. We were bummed.

But things always seem to turn out the better here. The Lord is good! We found a beautiful B&B nearby, and although they were booked, the owner called his brother who owned one around the corner and he drove over to let us follow him. What a beautiful place, Bunratty Haven! Our host, Noel, was a hilarious and outgoing Irish guy in probably his mid 30s, and we carried on and laughed and told stories for a while both that evening and the next morning.

That evening we went out for some food at The Creamery Bar — good food and excitement as it was in the middle of what was apparently quite a big rugby match. Still can’t figure out those rules. The more i watch it the more i get confused.

Later that evening we went in search of some Irish music. Durty Nelly’s it was, right across from Bunratty Castle. Downstairs were a few guitars in a corner, nothing special, but we kept hearing what sounded like a flute somewhere, so we walked around the building a bit and realized there was a small upstairs. Working our way up a tiny staircase we came to another room with a woman on guitar and eccentric looking man with wild hair on a fiddle. The tonality of the fiddle sounded quite flute-like from outside. It was a bit crowded upstairs as it was quite small, but eventually 2 seats opened up and we nestled in for quite a ride.

We learned the next morning from our host that the man on fiddle is something of an area legend. He used to work at the castle playing some of the music in their banquets, but promptly quit after being asked to work an extra day. Just packed up and left. He now plays at the local pubs now and then, and we happened to have quite the luck. His hair was wild, he was clearly drunk (we saw him drink no less than 4 Heinekens while we were there) and he apparently talks to no one. However he is a musical PRODIGY. I’m not kidding when i say i’ve never quite heard anything like it before. Ever. He played some contemporary music with the guitar woman (a few Cranberries songs, some top 100 hits, etc…), but he added his own bit to each. Rocked out what would be electric guitar solos, on the filddle. And every few songs, he would tear it up. I mean seriously, and ridiculously, tear it up. Slower, slower, faster and faster and faster, literally tearing his bow apart as hairs and strings went everywhere. His hair flung wildly, his fingers flew and and barely blinked. We were awestruck at his ability. Borderline insane, this guy just shows up and plays when he feels like it. Walking for miles in the rain, he comes and goes.

He’s just known as The Fiddler.

Tags: bunratty, castle, cliffs of moher, doolin, fiddle, Ireland, music, the burren