Tynanwoods Days Eleven Through Thirteen

October 25 - 27, 2006
Days 11 Through 13: Fossils of varying ages; tourists sans pants

On Wednesday we finally got our first taste of real Irish weather -- cold wet windy and utterly miserable. Twas a day not fit for man nor beast but we set out anyway, to Liscannor on the coast between Lahinch and Doolen, where there was a rock store of some repute. We spent a solid hour looking at rocks, crystals, fine Irish jewelry made from silver and amber, huge Amethyst specimens from Brazil (4000 euro apiece, two for 7000), 350-million-year-old trilobytes trapped in rock, shark teeth, quartz amulets, marble pigeon's eggs, polished rocks, Celtic runes made from wax and slate, and assorted earthy bric a brac. Amazingly we escaped for just 13 euros -- the kids each got a pendant to string round their necks.

From there we went on to Doolen, where there was a craft store of equally high repute and the inevitable Internet cafe. The craft store was closed; the cafe -- located in the reception area for the brand new B&B it was attached to -- sucked as well.

Soggy as labradors we entered Fitz's Bar in Doolens for lunch, which was also brand new. We picked the table closest to the roaring fire. While we ate, an older man just in from the Cliffs of Mohare pulled up a chair directly behind us, explained he was soaked to the bone, and inquired whether we would be terribly offended if he took off his pants? Xtina said OK, but she needed to get out her camera first. He demurred.

It was too wet to do anything else, so we came home to sip ale and sit by a peat fire.

The next day we headed back to Galway and met up with my 20 extremely jet-lagged-but-determined-to-drink-a-pint relatives, who'd flown in to Shannon that morning. We ended up at The Quays, the restaurant where we'd eaten three nights before, in the heart of Galway's shopping strip. The Quays is like a cross between the hold of an 18th century cargo ship and a church: The bar sits in the center of the restaurant, down a bending flight of stairs. The roofbeams are supported by wooden gothic arches; stained glass above and across from the bar brushes aside the darkness with dusty fingers of light. The Madden 20 took up the entire bar and spilled out onto a table upstairs, making the requisite offerings and experiencing the sacraments. Much drink was had, along with scholarly discussions on the relative merits of Guinness vs Smithwicks.

Friday, our last day in Corofin before we head to Dublin. It was another day of Irish weather, scotching any plans for a last hike among the livestock and limestone. Instead, we packed and headed toward Doolen so Xtina could see the craft store that had been closed on our first try.

En route we stopped in Lisdoonvarna to see The Burren Smokehouse, one of the few attractions with the words "Burren" attached we'd managed to miss. Like the Burren Perfumery, it's a modern establishment -- in this case, a source of terrific smoked salmon and cheese, along with an excellent gourmet shop. We took our booty to Doolen and had a picnic of smoked fish and crackers and goat cheese in our car beside by the crashing sea.

We headed back up the hill to the craft store, which was open but turned out to be a dinky thing not worthy of third-rate airport gift shop. And - yes - we spent more time at the Internet cafe, then headed home for our final night in The Burren.