Where did all of the people come from? We’ve been here before but it was always during “off season”. Now there are bazillions of people here. Selfishly, I do not care for this. Later when I passed locals and said hello and they did not respond I felt a little stung. To them I am the outsider. To me all of the other tourists are outsiders. Some of the locals are very friendly and outgoing. Some are very reserved and surely feel the pressure of their 800 person habited home swelling to likely double if not triple that on busy holidays. I would feel the same way. So even though it stung, I understood and felt bad for being part of the intrusion on their world.
But…. I do have ties here. And they were waiting on the pier for us. How incredible a feeling that is. Yesterday when we arrived on Inis Mean there was no one waiting and we had no real plan. So we just started walking. Walking. Walking. It was beautiful and we all got to see or do things we had hoped to do there. But today it felt totally different to be met at the pier by family and taken to where we were going.
David, Chloe and I started out on bikes after we found our B&B. I say started because some of us did not finish:
Don’t panic. This is a staged production. But for real Chloe could not hang with us. While David rode her bike back to find UT/AC to rescue her Chloe and I sat in the Atlantic wind and sun and just soaked up Inis Mor. Chloe picked up a flat rock and scratch something, she said “this is my bike ride today”. She showed me where she had scratched “fail” on the rock. We decided that at least she gave it a good go. Her poor little face was beat red. But her dimples were beautiful when we laughed about this.
UT and David arrived back. UT proclaimed “YOU CALL WE HAUL” and he and Chloe went back to AC’s shopping and they spent the day driving to and fro about the island. For such a very small place it is packed full of historical and beautiful sights. We have yet to be here long enough to do all that I want to do. But today’s bike ride was a great start. We rode from the pier to Dun Aengus. Ate in a café. The pictures come closer to telling you about this ride. But not near as close as what we actually saw.
Then we rode to the cemetery where my great great grandfather Patrick lies. Amongst generations of relatives. We really are from here. And it is only the decision of a great grandfather to leave this island that we are seperated from it. I wonder what made him leave. What was he looking for and did he find it.
Then there was more.
Another blog. Me in a pub. Drinking.