The Cliffs of Insanity (Ireland, Part 2)

I had one free day to spend in Galway, so I asked my Irish hosts, “What’s the one thing I have to see before I leave this part of the country?” They all agreed that I should see the Cliffs of Moher. I had no idea what they were. I knew they were cliffs of course, but I also knew that what the Irish call “mountains” are just little hills that the Wasatch would eat for breakfast. Still, they all seemed to be in agreement, so I did an Internet search for bus tours to the cliffs, and off I went.

The bus tour was okay. It was obvious that the Cliffs of Moher were the main attraction, and the bus company tried really hard to fill the tour with other things so that they could take a few hours longer and charge its customers a little more. One offering was a nature walk. A nature walk?! What am I, back in Cub Scouts, identifying leaves to get a bead for my Bear badge? I passed on that and instead went to Aillwee cave.

My friends Garrett and Sarah recently posted a humorous – but very, very wrong – story about Timpanogos Cave here in Utah. I’ve been to Timpanogos cave, and I’ve also been to Minnetonka Cave in Idaho, and thought it was interesting, though not necessarily noteworthy, that the tours are conducted in an almost identical manner. I was amazed to find, though, that even in Ireland, cave tour guides must have gone to the same type of Cave Tour Guide School or all gotten the Cave Tour Guide Certificate from DeVry University. From the corny colored spotlights placed randomly throughout the cave, to the commentary about the constant, year-round temperature inside the cave, to the shutting off the lights in the heart of the cave so you can appreciate how dark it is. It was all the same, and therefore, not really as exciting as I thought it would be. Still, at least I was in Ireland and not in Idaho.

It was actually discovered by bears prior to 1940, but in typical fashion, the white man gave them no credit and claimed the discovery as his own. Actually, the cave owners went so far as to put a stuffed bear in the cave, to add a level of realism that non-stuffed-animal-bearing-caves can only dream of.

It's a cave, any way you look at it.

I appreciated that this sign clearly marks where bears should go, in addition to men, women, babies, and people in wheelchairs. I bet in the old days, these signs pointed in the same direction.

Our bus wound its way through a part of the country called The Burren. It’s kind of a rocky plateau that persistent farmers have beaten into submission over the years to the point that they can grow hay and other crops, as well as raise animals. Our bus driver, clearly stretching for something to talk about during the drive, kept promising us a neat explanation about these hay bales we were seeing in the countryside. Several times he mentioned it, and I started thinking, “Oh man, I can’t wait until I hear this hay story!” Finally, after nearly an hour teasing it, the driver told us about how hay is baled and put in plastic wrap to keep it from getting wet. That was it. That was his story. Maybe hay is more exotic to people from other parts of the world, but to a Utahn like me….it’s just hay.

Along the way, we stopped very briefly at this old church. I really wanted to get out and walk around it and go inside it, but the bus driver told us we only had time to take a picture and get back on the bus. Another example of the locals not being quite as impressed with their own sites as the tourists are. I guess if someone came to Utah and wanted to get out of the bus to walk around a Mormon church, I'd tell him to get his butt back in the bus too.

We stopped at a lookout point and I took advantage of the fact that the bus was full of other camera-wielding tourists to get my picture taken.

We finally arrived at the Cliffs of Moher. You’re not familiar with the Cliffs of Moher? They are (nominally) the cliffs on which the Cliffs on Insanity are based. I say “nominally” because immediately after returning from my trip, we re-watched The Princess Bride, and found that the actual Cliffs of Moher are only visible in a few, distant shots of Fezzik and The Man in Black climbing a rope. All close up character shots, all distant shots from the boat, and certainly all shots on top of the cliffs were nothing like the actual Cliffs of Moher. But that’s okay: I was in Ireland.

Not the Cliffs of Moher.

Definately not the Cliffs of Moher.


The Cliffs of Moher!

I got my picture taken by another tourist, then had a tourist ask me to take his picture. I said, "sure." He said he had been waiting for a tourist who "spoke his language" to take his picture. Funny thing: his "language" was English (actually backwoods English) and we were in Ireland. Hmmm...I don't know how long he was waiting for an English speaker in such an exotic place as Ireland, but I'm glad I came along and saved the day so he didn't have to talk to people that were "different" than him.



This is O'Brien's Tower, erected by a local landlord in 1835. He built it on top of the cliffs as a tourist attraction, hoping to gain money by charging people to ascend to the top. It's only 3 stories tall and cost about 7 dollars to ascend. I was already 700 feet above the ocean, I didn't see how an extra 30 feet would make much of a difference.

This was a small rock formation at the base of the cliffs, I thought it was unique for the heavy layers of white minerals found on it. Turns out: it's just bird poop.

The understatement photograph of the trip.

Seriously, though, there seems to be a large combination of foolhardy visitors and suicidal jumpers who have lost their lives at these cliffs. There is a small memorial to them on one side. Also worth noting here: all street signs and government documents in Ireland are bilingual in English and traditional Celtic. Children learn Celtic in school, and there is one county where Celtic is still the first language. Famous people who've come from this county include Enya and the lady that used to cut Enya's hair.

On one side of the cliffs, the trail stops, and you see this sign:

It was very funny to me to see the sheer number of people who hopped over the rock wall and past this sign, obviously paying no heed. But the well-worn trail in the grass and the number is stickers on the sign told me that this handful of folks certainly weren't the only people to go beyond that point. Or...maybe they just didn't understand English, French, or German.

I have to say that none of the pictures I got truly do the cliffs justice. It's amazing how tall and how sheer they are. Without some kind of point of reference, it's just difficult to visualize them. It was a remarkable sight, and a great day to be there: warm, cloudy and overcast, slight breeze, threatening to rain -- exactly what I'd pictured Irish weather to be.

Quinn