I’m not going to lie. Up until this week, I wasn’t quite sure where the Cliffs of Moher were. I knew of their existence more from vague memories of geography class and the smiling recollections of the Americans I was serving at the castle. But even without knowing their location, I knew I wanted to go at some point. I really like being a tourist.
The day started as many had. I kickboxed, showered and was settling down for a lazy Sunday of knitting and watching It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Did I want to go to Spanish Point? Mammy asked. Sure why not, I thought. Its not like Danny DeVito will me miss me watching his reruns.
The family (minus the Sis who was babysitting) loaded up the car (I brought nothing but my purse, a hairbrush and a copy of the latest Hot Press) and headed for Clare. We started in a cliffy area down past the Armada. I indulged in some graceful rock jumping and rock pool viewing while my Dad began playing his favourite self-invented sport: rock balancing. Yes, dear readers, it is the art of balancing rocks on other rocks. Why? (I asked too.) To screw with people and make them wonder how nature could cause one rock to precariously balance on another. The Olympics calls.
After having a car picnic, we headed to the Rock Shop in Liscannor. Its very pretty. And very expensive. My dad bought me black coffee and a Buddha. I came away happy. Then I noticed a sign for the Cliffs of Moher saying it was only three miles down the road. CONVENIENT. Can we go, can we go, can we go?
We bitched about having to pay money to look at cliffs as we parked. It was quite the family bonding moment. But then we saw the visitors’ centre and realised why. Between the interactive displays and the virtual experience of wildlife on the cliffs (my mom, the hater of heights, greatly appreciated this), it was a lovely complement to a contender for a natural wonder of the world.
Mammy stayed behind as Dad, Little Sis and I climbed. One of the first things you see when you go towards the cliff is a big sign for the Samaritans. Dad showed me where people used to lean over the edge before the barriers were put up. It is a subduing experience to consider that so many choose to end their days amongst this beauty and array of life.
Then came the steps. There were many steps. We were like Rocky, but way slower. The sight was amazing and worth my tiring legs. A picture speaks a thousand more eloquent words than I could ever attempt.
So one goal is ticked off the list. 100 more to go!