Ireland: The Adventure of the Aran Islands

If you had asked me about the Aran Islands, three small Irish-speaking islands off Ireland’s west coast, before I left Canada I would’ve said something like “I would like to go but not sure when I will get there.” If you ask me about the Aran Islands now I’ll probably be rendered speechless for a moment and just shake my head in wonder as I try to collect my thoughts and put my words into coherent sentences that try to do the experience justice.

Without a doubt this was the most adventurous escapade of my life. It started as a very impromptu trip as well. I had told my friend Will, who currently lives in Limerick, that I was back in Ireland and with a flexible schedule, was hoping to meet up for a day or something. Will takes this information and a few days later gets back to me with a proposal I don’t think he thought I would actually accept: “I’m going to the Aran Islands tomorrow with a buddy of mine. Want to join?” That was the gist of his message. So casual, maybe tentative given that we didn’t know each other that well but I knew right away I was going.

Being just outside of Dublin on the east coast of the country, I knew I was in for a bit of a trek across the island to Galway on the west. Within a couple of hours after committing, I had my travel planned, hostel booked, and my small backpack packed for the two nights I would be there. In the end, it was about 18 hours from when I was invited to the time I walked out the front door on my way! There are a few ways you can get from Dublin to the Aran Islands and I chose to take the train from Celbridge, where I was staying, to Galway. This was pretty easy to do and while a few hours, the ride itself was enjoyable. I was then able to spend about two hours in Galway, a city I had heard much about but yet was new to me. I sat in Eyre Square for a bit and browsed around the surrounding area but couldn’t stray too far as I did not want to miss my shuttle to the ferry.

This fountain in Eyre Square represents the Galway Hooker, a traditional fishing boat. Appropriate for a seaside town, no?

People watching in Eyre Square

To get to the Aran Islands from Galway, I then took a 40-minute shuttle bus to the harbour where I then caught a 35-minute ferry to Inis Mór (pronounced “Inish-more”), the largest of the islands and the only one with a hostel. The ferry ride was very enjoyable if a little chilly but after being in a train or on a bus for the better part of the day, I was happy to brave out the chill and take in the sights from the top deck. The salty breeze was truly reinvigorating after spending over a week in the city – no disrespect, Dublin, I still love you. Finding the hostel on Inis Mór was very easy, you can see it as soon as you pull into the harbour. Arriving to check in, the girl working the desk told me my friends were in the kitchen. I was a little surprised she knew who I was meeting but it worked out fine for me, I was starving and more than happy to frequent to a kitchen.

Prior to coming to the Aran Islands, I had met Will once and Facebook creeped Ryan (although I trusted Will’s judgement in his friend selection, I was curious about my soon-to-be travel buddy). Walking in to the surprisingly large kitchen area of Kilronan Hostel, I didn’t see Will but Ryan quickly asked me if I was the Jennifer they were waiting for and promptly introduced himself when I was she. Having come on the morning ferry, Ryan and Will had spent the day on the island and absolutely floored me by having a delicious pasta and cold beer ready for me! I know you guys are reading this right now, and thank you again! I just made myself hungry thinking about it…

Will had been upstairs in our room for the first few minutes but soon joined Ryan and I and the conversation. We did a bit of your usual introductory conversation, discussed our journeys to the island, and the formulated the plan to rent bicycles and cycle the island the following day. There are approximately three pubs on the island (this may or may not be an exaggeration but probably not) and after our beer at the hostel we decided to take a stroll over to the pub next door. Your typical Irish pub, it felt cosy inside and the beer was cold. I’m not sure how much time we spent here but it was enough to have a few pints each and get to know each other better and share a few laughs. With our big day ahead of us, we decided to call it a night before the craic of our night prevented us from having a good day on the morrow!

Rising at a decent hour, we packed our things we’d want for the day and headed out to pick up our bikes! We had a map of the circular route we planned to cycle and what stops we were looking to make.

Our first stop was a place called “The Black Fort.” The loose and big pebbled gravel path that wound uphill helped us decide to leave our bikes and continue on foot but the walk was so worth it. We were walking uphill into a vast expanse of brownish green, lined with stone walls on the one side and then grey clay-coloured rock on the other. Everything then culminates in front of you with cheer cliffs than zigzag down the stunningly blue coast.

What made this even more magical and surreal was the fact that we were the only ones here! It is crazy to think that an area that radiates such natural beauty in every direction that one looks only has 3 people visiting it. The Aran Islands really feel like Ireland’s best-kept secret, tucked away on the West coast waiting for the adventurous!

After leaving a little taste of Canadian culture at the Black Fort, we hiked back down to our bikes and continued on our merry way – there was still plenty to see. So much so, I felt like I was asking the guys to stop every few minutes so I could take a picture! Everything about the island was just so rustic, raw and quaint.

We cycled along the coast for awhile, going up an incline that left our legs burning and stomachs growling so we stopped for a hearty lunch and little digestion period at the beach. 17 degrees and sunny in early April practically felt balmy to us Canadians (and almost certainly was for the Irish) and we sat ourselves down on a rock for a little bit, just basking in the sun like lizards. The sea breeze and warm sun tantalized our senses so it was hard to tear ourselves away but we were eager to see more of this mysterious place.

Our next destination was the Worm Hole. After cycling through a labyrinth of stone walls, winding deeper and deeper into the island until eventually the coast opposite of the beach came into view, we once again descended from our bikes and continued on foot. The terrain began rather Canadian Shield-like, grassy but plenty of rock, but soon gave way to rocky shelves which then turned into uneven but relatively flat volcanic rock. Like Dorothy following the yellow brick road to Oz, we followed our markers, a series of red arrows, to our destination. This soon turned into a game in itself as the arrows were painted on rocks and other obscure surfaces. Finding the next one brought a sense of wonderful sense of satisfaction and excitement.

I’m not sure how far we actually walked while following the arrows but this trek was definitely not for the lazy tourist. Although fun, this was a legit hike. But once you get to the Worm Hole, you can see the effort was worth it.  A natural rectangular wonder cut into the rock, the water comes in from the sea, under the rock, and fills the pool. We couldn’t help but marvel at how cool this place was, so unlike anything we had seen.  Given the popularity of the place, we were also no longer the only people around, like we were at the Black Fort. Couples, friends, and families, were walking around the semi-circle the site of the Worm Hole formed around the sea, taking pictures and just watching the waves ebb and flow into the awe-inducing space.

As we walked around, taking pictures, the waves begin to get rougher, making the site all the more exciting. Here’s a video I took of this wonder in action.

If you watch the video again, you’ll see a lone person standing on the the cliff that juts out. Remember that. As I stopped filming, Will decided to take a video. In it, you can hear us laughing and just enjoying the show as the waves got increasingly bigger, sending giant sprays up into the air.

This is probably the reason why it took me so long to write and publish this article. As I easily recall every detail now I can see goosebumps on my legs, feel my heart race and my fingers have begun to shake. What Will’s video also captures is one of the biggest waves I’ve ever seen come in, sweep that person off the cliff, and down onto the lower rocks some 40 feet below. The video instantly goes from laughter to immediate fear and ends with me saying “oh my God” as we run over. I still can’t get over how quickly life can be turned upside. I can still remember seeing the girl disappear in the wave, her arm sticking out of the water as she fell, and the horrified realization of what I just saw. It happened in a split second but I could still see it in slow motion.

As we ran over, the slow motion disappeared and everything happened quickly. Everyone rushed over to the ledge where the girl was (she had luckily held onto a boulder and was not swept out to sea or into the Worm Hole itself). Some restrained the poor girl’s mother, who was hysterical, some were trying to reach down to her, and others were trying to call for help. There was absolutely no cell phone reception and after quickly realizing a cell phone was not going to work, Ryan and I began running back with another lady to get help. Assuming the group of men who had formed could get her up, she would very likely still need medical attention.

Running as fast as we could, worried sick that every second could bring in another rogue wave, we crossed the unsteady volcanic rock as fast as our legs could safely take us. While I had been questioning my cardio while riding the bike, it was amazing how I didn’t even once consider how tired I was – I just knew this girl’s life was more important than anything. Along the way we had yelled asking for a phone as we went but still no one had service. In the end we had to run back into the hamlet we had passed in the stone wall labyrinth to get a landline. We knocked on every house until someone answered. Fionnuala, the Irish lady who had run in with us, luckily spoke Irish and quickly told the family what happened and asked to call the coast guard. As Fionnuala went inside to call, I remember seeing the mother, an older lady, cross herself, and just felt so worried. I can’t have just seen someone fall to her death I thought, she’ll be okay. After a few painful minutes, Fionnuala returned saying the helicopter is coming from Shannon. Although this felt extremely long of a wait, there was nothing else we could do. The daughter offered us some water which we graciously accepted and her husband offered to drive us back as close as we could get as Fionnuala’s boyfriend was among the group who stayed behind, as did Will.

Once the car could get no closer, we climbed out and began to run back to the scene when half-way there we came across Will who was walking the opposite way. I don’t think we even voiced our worry, he just looked at our faces and said she was okay, they had got her out. It was the fact that there was nothing else for him to do, that sent Will back to find us. It was at this time we saw the helicopter fly in and watched as it lowered the rescue basket.

Will explained to Ryan and I that after we had gone for help, the woman had tried to stand so as to get closer to the outstretched arms but she clearly could not stand on her one leg – it had been broken. To get her up, the group had created a rope of whatever jackets and sweaters they could get, attached that to a backpack someone had brought, and the girl strapped herself in and was pulled up as Will watched and yelled when a wave was coming in so everyone could brace themselves for the impact. Suffering cuts and a broken ankle, this story could have ended in tragedy. Even better luck, there was a paramedic there – Fionnuala’s boyfriend.

The adrenaline had began to wear off and our bodies grew tired. Although we were all quiet, I knew our minds were all still working furiously to process and handle what had just happened. By the time we reached our bikes, we had decided that while this was one of the most dramatic events of our lives, the girl survived and we would not act like as though she did not. This was a story of extreme luck, divine intervention – whatever you like. But it was not a story of death.

We continued back along the track, still admiring the beauty in the surreal lens that appears after a near-death experience. With a new appreciation for life, everything was just awe-inducing.

We finally returned to our hostel, exhausted and smelling of sweat (both of exertion and adrenaline), we took the most glorious showers and got dinner. After dinner, we headed to the pub and to quench our thirst for a strong drink (or 5). The pub was all a-talk with what had happened (it’s a small island and the helicopter was visible for a long time) and once word got around the pub that we had not only been there but had a video of what had happened, we were the (wo)men of the hour telling our story. It was therapeutic to talk about it and emphasize that she was okay.

Here’s a link to a news report detailing what happened, in the words of Seamus and Fionnuala. There’s also a video if you want to see that fateful moment (although this is not Will’s video).

Here you go.

Later in the evening we were actually joined by Fionnuala and her boyfriend, Seamus. We joined them for a pint and just talked about what had happened and discussed the beauty of everyone coming together to play a role in the rescue. They invited us out to the next bar but we were sufficiently drunk (or at least I was) that we decided it would be better to get back to our beds.

The following day we rose, perhaps a little slowly, our bodies and minds both exhausted from the previous day, we got on the ferry, sunburnt to a crisp, and made our way back to Galway where Will and Ryan took the bus back to Limerick and I the train to Celbridge. We had met in the Aran Islands practically as strangers but departed with the previous two days’ experiences connecting us for life. All in all, an adventure I will never forget.