In March 2019, daughter Jill and I went on a ten-day tour of Ireland – three days in Dublin on our own and seven days on a guided tour of the Emerald Isle with CIE Tours International.
Click HERE to read a short introduction about this unforgettable tour.
This story, part of an ongoing series, captures our unforgettable experience at the legendary Cliffs of Moher.
Click HERE to read a short introduction about this unforgettable tour.
This story, part of an ongoing series, captures our unforgettable experience at the legendary Cliffs of Moher.
It was St. Patrick’s Day!
Cliffs of Moher in County Clare, Ireland (March 17, 2019) What a day it was as we traveled along the breathtaking west coast of Ireland, from Killarney to Galway—a memorable journey where Jill and I braved near gale force winds to explore the legendary Cliffs of Moher, one of the country’s most iconic natural landmarks.
Hold on to your hat, lest it blow off your head!
Hold on to your hat, lest it blow off your head!
There was no better way to start my day than with an Irish breakfast of kippers, eggs, and grilled tomatoes. This traditional fare was simple, hearty, and bursting with flavor. It was deelish!
On a side note, I’m sure you noticed (in the photo above) the shirts Jill and I wore. Although our ancestors came from central and eastern Europe—to the best of my knowledge, we haven’t a drop of Irish blood in our veins—being in Ireland on St. Patrick’s Day was nothing short of extraordinary. Everywhere I looked that day, I saw Irish Green, a color deeply intertwined with the country’s national identity.
At 9AM, we set out on a three-hour drive enroute to the Cliffs of Moher. The weather in Killarney was cool and rather dreary—mid 40s, overcast sky, and a steady drizzle—but conditions improved nicely soon after we departed. Jill and I settled comfortably into our seats, enjoying scenic views like these as we drove through Country Kerry.
On a side note, I’m sure you noticed (in the photo above) the shirts Jill and I wore. Although our ancestors came from central and eastern Europe—to the best of my knowledge, we haven’t a drop of Irish blood in our veins—being in Ireland on St. Patrick’s Day was nothing short of extraordinary. Everywhere I looked that day, I saw Irish Green, a color deeply intertwined with the country’s national identity.
At 9AM, we set out on a three-hour drive enroute to the Cliffs of Moher. The weather in Killarney was cool and rather dreary—mid 40s, overcast sky, and a steady drizzle—but conditions improved nicely soon after we departed. Jill and I settled comfortably into our seats, enjoying scenic views like these as we drove through Country Kerry.
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As we approached the town of Ballyseedy, Bryan—our travel guide and driver—painted a vivid picture of the Irish Civil War (1922-23), which followed the Irish War of Independence.
“The Civil War, which pitted two Irish factions—Free Staters and Republicans—was sparked by a bitter disagreement over the terms of the Anglo-Irish Treaty. While it granted Ireland independence, it did so as a dominion of the British Empire.
“The Civil War, which pitted two Irish factions—Free Staters and Republicans—was sparked by a bitter disagreement over the terms of the Anglo-Irish Treaty. While it granted Ireland independence, it did so as a dominion of the British Empire.
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“In March 1923, soldiers of the National Army—the Republicans—committed an unthinkable act. They tied nine Free Staters from nearby Tralee to a landmine and detonated it. Tragically, eight men died instantly...but one miraculously survived to share his harrowing ordeal. This brutal event became known as the Ballyseedy Massacre.”
A short while later, John pulled his bus to the side of the road to view a poignant reminder—the Ballyseedy Memorial—which honors the Free State insurgents executed by Republican forces. |
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Forty-five minutes on, we arrived at Tarbert Island along the Shannon Estuary—the meeting point of Ireland’s longest river, the Shannon, and the Atlantic Ocean. John smoothly guided the bus onto the ferry for a 20-minute crossing to the Killimer terminal. As the ferry cut through the water, sprays erupted on both sides, while the rhythmic slapping of waves against the hull blended harmoniously with the roar of the engine. Our sailing was delightful!
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We had arrived in Country Clare, known as ‘The Banner County’ for its longstanding tradition of displaying banners to mark significant events. Not to be outdone by County Kerry, County Clare—described by Bryan as “a region rich in natural beauty, history, and culture”—proudly showcased its own stunning landscapes.
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Bryan stopped for a photo op near Corkscrew Hill—a “famous winding road named for its distinctive series of sharp hairpin bends,” he said. At the summit—the road was about 10 miles from bottom to top—we were rewarded with sweeping views of the limestone landscape and lush, fertile valley below.
We passed Spanish Point, named after the sailors of the Spanish Armada who were shipwrecked off the coast in 1588. Continuing north, we followed the Atlantic coastline—a patchwork of untamed geological formations and dramatic seascapes—to the Cliffs of Moher.
First, let me say this: we had it all that day...weather, that is. Cold, rain, winds that gusted to 50 MPH, sleet, and even a touch of sunshine. It felt as if Mother Nature herself couldn’t decide what mood she was in! As a passionate shutterbug, I found the weather far from cooperative, making it nearly impossible to capture a decent shot.
Six Facts About the Cliffs of Moher
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As we pulled into the visitor’s parking lot, Bryan cautioned us, “Given the high winds, there may be restrictions in place—you might not be able to access the observation trail alongside the cliffs.”
I crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.
Luck was on our side—when we reached the visitor center, we learned there were no weather-related restrictions.
However, not long after we stepped outside, the wind picked up, bringing with it bursts of rain, hail, sleet, and even a bit of snow. Jill and I quickly pulled our ponchos over the layers we wore—shirts, sweaters, and insulated jackets—as we geared up against the unpredictable weather.
We followed the main pathway that winds along the cliffs, and after a brief walk—in some places, arm-in-arm for balance against the relentless wind—we neared O’Brien’s Tower.
I crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.
Luck was on our side—when we reached the visitor center, we learned there were no weather-related restrictions.
However, not long after we stepped outside, the wind picked up, bringing with it bursts of rain, hail, sleet, and even a bit of snow. Jill and I quickly pulled our ponchos over the layers we wore—shirts, sweaters, and insulated jackets—as we geared up against the unpredictable weather.
We followed the main pathway that winds along the cliffs, and after a brief walk—in some places, arm-in-arm for balance against the relentless wind—we neared O’Brien’s Tower.
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This was the only photo I managed to take of O’Brien’s Tower. As you can see, it was wrapped in a framework of scaffolding for structural repairs to its staircases, windows, and internal stone fabric—which meant we missed the chance to climb to the top, where the tower normally offered spectacular views of the cliff and ocean.
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Jill and I didn’t linger long in any single spot—just enough time for a quick look, a selfie, or a posed photo snapped by a fellow traveler from our tour.
That evening, when I Googled the Cliffs of Moher, I found myself gazing—salivating might be a better word!—at photos of the cliffs painted in earthy tones, crowned with deep green grassy tops, set between a deep blue ocean and an azure sky. Sunlight bathed the cliffs, amplifying their textures and emphasizing their towering heights.
The images, which were awe-inspiring, reminded me of the moment earlier that day when Mother Nature smiled upon—pausing the wind and rain just long enough for the sun to break through the clouds. It felt like pure magic!
The images, which were awe-inspiring, reminded me of the moment earlier that day when Mother Nature smiled upon—pausing the wind and rain just long enough for the sun to break through the clouds. It felt like pure magic!
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The Cliffs of Moher stood as they always did—steadfast and eternal, carved by the passage of time and shaped by the relentless pounding of the Atlantic waves and the driving force of the wind. They embody eternity, a testament to nature’s enduring strength and timeless beauty.
~ Anonymous
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As I took a final look at the Cliffs of Moher, it felt as if I stood at the very edge of the world, where emerald-green fields blended seamlessly with jagged cliffs that plunged into the roaring waves below, while the sea stretched endlessly toward the horizon.
This scene became indelibly etched in my memory.
This scene became indelibly etched in my memory.
At 2PM, we reboarded the bus for a 90-minute drive to Galway. I look forward to sharing our experiences there with you in my next story.