Unique moments, breathtaking views

THE rumble of two stomachs demand that lunch be taken and where better than our scheduled stop at Mullaghmore Harbour? On the everlasting entry road, we pass three identical cobs leaning over the stone wall at the perimeter of their field, there are rabbits ahead and we park by seagulls at the water’s edge. As we await our food, I gaze across the curved beach and harbour before me. It’s the location where Lord Mountbatten met his fate at the hands of the Provisional IRA and I find myself fascinated by this picturesque, calm place once bearing witness to an explosion. “I can’t imagine it,” I tell my partner, but she’s still thinking about the cobs and how ideal an acquisition they would make for a riding school. Animals, history, scenery—there’s something of interest for us all I suppose!

Refreshed and refuelled, our final stop is calling—pulchritudinous Connemara—an adjective as rare as the savage beauty which sweeps over the region. The route is determined by a glance at the watch. It’s late afternoon, so we place ourselves at the mercy of Google and the GPS signal; a decision which bequeaths Ireland—minus the Six Counties—with a chance to show us that it is now a modern, flourishing, European Republic. It’s not all antiquity with quaint charm you see.

Nevertheless, modernity is not what we’ve come to see and thankfully conventional civilisation is quickly edging further from sight in the rear view mirror. I notice an abundance of Mayo county flags, punctuated by churches which are all absolutely packed. It is Easter Sunday, so I suspect this huge attendance is reflective of a cultural Catholic tie, which still draws so many locals out to chapel for special occasions. Less so at other times. Towns are flown through; Westport being one, but we’ve no time to stop. Its Georgian stone bridges look phenomenal. Another time.

Connemara is soon in sight and we are enchanted by the daunting mountains which dominate over us. A ‘welcome to Galway’ sign signifies that our direction of travel is on course, but I momentarily wonder if we have taken a wrong turn and ended up in Sri Lanka because beyond the cliff edge there rests a beach with pure white sand and crystal clear turquoise water. This place would rival South Asia if the sea temperature was as indistinguishable from the Indian Ocean as its appearance.

We are discombobulated by the manner in which the tropical coastline vigorously merges with wild terrain. Coves and bays lie below, bogs and heathland sit beside us. Now we drive along stunning freshwater lakes surrounding Kylemore Abbey. These bodies of water are huge and their circumambience is complete by beautiful rugged landscapes. I liken the Connemara lakes to a race track, chicaning between mountains and lodgepole pine trees.

The towering mountains still impose themselves in front of us, the lakes persist in being wonderfully woven through the hills; meanwhile, there are new signs for another extraordinary national park, and multiple Gaeltacht hubs to immersive oneself in traditional Irish culture and the revitalisation of a beautiful ancient language. We are lost for words.

My partner’s voice breaks the silence. “We’d better head in land to Oranmore.” I am aware that this drive has taken 10 hours but there’s one more thing we are yet to see. I somehow find myself on the Connemara loop and then it hits us…

She is busy examining a sole isolated house with fields all around. I perform an emergency stop. I have to justify the action, what with nothing being on the road. Now I can reverse to a pull in. Kayaks bobbing in the lake are of no interest on the passenger side. However, my invitation to look out of the driver’s seat window is received with glee. There stands three Connemara Ponies in their natural habitat. It is great to see these animals living in the typically harsh topography of their place of origin. Another unique moment to enjoy.

Now we can head directly to our destination. In doing so, we stumble across another duo of native ponies and a foal in a gated field. One calls to us, the others investigate. It’s put the finishing touches on a great trip.

I am tired and starving, but the promise that a curry is awaiting my arrival at Paddy and Mary’s house in Oranmore keeps me going. It will be washed down with a few pints in the village, while a trad band plays in the background. What a journey!