Climbing Irish Cliffs

Allison's favorite moment of the week was (in her words) "Climbing the cliffs around Carrick-a-rede and Cliffs of Moher. Or just climbing cliffs in general."

As it turns out, we did a lot of climbing. And it was obvious that Allison loved every minute of it.

Allison flew into Dublin on Tuesday. Mark, John and I got up early to make the three hour drive down to the airport. Turns out, the Dublin airport doesn't expect anyone to actually be picked up from the airport, because there is absolutely no signage or availability to pull over and wait for someone. Judging by the number of lanes for buses and taxis, I'm thinking that's the normal way to go.

John just picked the least busy lane, and feigned being a taxi. It wasn't hard after all, because no lay person in Ireland actually drives a BUS :-) Mark went into get her, and was back out in a few minutes.

It was so good to see Allison! The cutest part about her arrival (besides seeing the big goofy smile on Mark's face) was seeing her sporting her Ravenclaw scarf (made by Angel Boy). She hopped in the Knight Bus, and off we went.

We wanted to show Allison more than just Northern Ireland, so we decided to take her over to the west side of the island to the Cliffs of Moher. I mean, in my mind, you haven't really visited Ireland until you've seen the cliffs. It was three more hours of driving, but well worth it.

We made a quick stop in Bunratty for lunch. There's nothing like real Irish food at Blarney Woolen Mills. Oh goodness, I had some chicken and gnocchi concoction that was out of this world.

Of course, you also can't visit the cliffs without some rain. It was raining pretty hard through the drive, but then it waned once we actually got there, thank goodness.

We didn't have a lot of time so we skipped the visitor's center and went straight to the cliffs, although this time we turned right instead of left. We've always gone left. I'm not sure why, because as it turns out, right is good too. Fewer people for sure, and a totally different view.

It's the same old story of the cliffs. I watch as my husband decides to walk up to every edge and look over. And I review how much life insurance money I will receive when a rogue gust of wind pushes him over the edge. And I also wonder how I will recover his body from the surf and rocks below.

This is what I'm talking about.

And this....

And yes, this.

Here is proof that you can still get a great view and a good picture from the TRAIL.

This next picture is actually quite amazing. You see us obviously, but if you look over my shoulder (and above John's hand), you'll see a white jacket. That's Mark and Allison. On the edge.

I would just like to recap what happened just moments before they got there. John and I were standing, waiting to get Mark and Allison in the picture, and we heard a scream. A man actually lost his balance on the way down to where Mark and Allison are, and started sliding down the hill to the edge. His wife/girlfriend watched him slide toward the edge and started screaming. I couldn't move as I watched him sliding down, completely out of control.

Yep, stay on the trail, folks!

And this next picture is a great definition of marriage. John and I are opposites in just about every way. I'm quiet, he's loud. He's social and friendly, I'm more of an observer. I'm cerebral, he's lives an action-based life. He loves risk, and I like safety.

And yet, our marriage works because we "lean" into each other's lives. I'll push myself to do something I wouldn't normally do because I trust John, and he'll stop his crazy life for a while and sit and enjoy my quiet one. I can go to the edge too, and when I do, I'm always glad I did!

See what I mean? The view is just different from the right side of the visitor's center, and it's spectacular. Plus, it looked very different with the clouds and drizzle. Very eerie, and very mystical. It almost made me wonder if I would see some merpeople out in the water ;-)

Okay, so onto some other cliffs.

The next day (after making the six-hour drive back to the north the night before) we headed to Carrickarede bridge. The bridge was so fun (as always), but the better part was having time to walk further down the coastline and do some climbing.

This shot is from the island. We were headed to the shoreline behind us.

I honestly can't even tell who that is in this picture, but wow! what a great picture!

Mark, Allison and Glo. I have no idea how they even got up there!

John, always leading the way. As I told everyone, if he'd been alive in the late 1400's, he would have been the one to convince the queen to set him up with some ships, and he would have discovered America!

Yep, Ethan and Rebecca...with BABY! (Be still my heart...)

And Mark and Allison, you know, just standing around.

I do believe this is the only time Hannie left my side, and it was only because I told her to see if she could find anything in the tide pools.

Okay, so full disclosure time. Allison claims she is a lot of things, like a student, a biologist, a rower, but she never revealed her full self in spoken word. Nope. Allison is a lot of things, but really Allison is a goat. Like a billy goat. Or a mountain goat. She's whatever those goats are that climb mountains. She's this kind of goat:

It doesn't matter where we went, she found a way to find somewhere ELSE to go. Somewhere higher, somewhere with better views, somewhere not on the trail well-traveled. If you believe in spirit animals, hers is a goat. In fact, thinking in Harry Potter terms, the goat would have to be her Patronus.

When we went to the Giant's Causeway, I think she was happy seeing it all from the tourist's perspective. However, when we reached the end of the trail (and didn't think we could go any further), she just looked up. And started climbing.