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| Glassy calm seas |
It was dead calm in the morning. Any hint of breeze was from the NE and, of course, we were heading NE from Bofin to Clew Bay. We motored the 26 miles over glassy seas past the Twelve Bens of Connemara and Middle Ground, past Inishturk, Caher and Clare Islands and into Clew Bay.
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| Clare Island at the mouth of Clew Bay. |
It was low tide when we arrived at Inishoo, the outermost island in the middle of the bay that has 365 islands, one for every day of the year. We dropped anchor and launched the dinghy. Then we went ashore for a bit of exploration. There's a lovely beach on the lee side of the island. Years ago, we'd be picking cockles off the beach for lunch there were so many. Then one year after a particularly cold winter, they disappeared.
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| A blue sky is always so hopeful |
The high side of the island that is exposed to the west and the Atlantic's fury has been battered for millennia and in recent years has been receding noticeably with every storm. Huge boulders of prehistoric fossils are being exposed. New slides make walking that side of the island precarious. There's a picture of Alex and me at the top of Inishoo from about 20 years ago. The spot where we were standing is long gone, dissolved into the sea. We walked all the way around the island seeing what we could find.
Soon, a light breeze filled in and a Drascombe Lugger and a second small sailboat arrived and beached. We were no longer the lone explorers. We never encountered the others, one group of whom went up to the top of the island and the other couple walked around the other end. There was plenty of space for all of along with the sheep and the ghosts of past settlers. The island is unoccupied otherwise. We dragged our found treasures -- floats brought in by gales and fossils uncovered by storms -- back to
Aleria. By then it was half tide and time to go home.
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| Croagh Patrick with its head in the clouds |
We got to our mooring and tidied up. We spent the night for the first time in our own inlet. The house sitters weren't leaving until the next day. We grilled lamb burgers and washed them down with the last of the wine while watching the herons swoop and sound their prehistoric cries. we brought blankets out and stayed out a little longer, watching the sunlight the sky as it set out over the bay and Clare Island. Flocks of swallows swooshed past overhead and soon the bats came out chasing after the bugs that were now lifting off all around.
We stayed out until it got too chilly. Tomorrow, we pack up and head home. The holiday is over. Costa del Cork is now a distant memory.
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| Inishoo shrinking into the sea |
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| Alex launching the dinghy |
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| Using a halyard makes it fairly easy. |
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| Busy anchorage |
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| Pretty shot of Aleria |
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| Alex in his element -- explorer! |
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| More has come down since we were here last |
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| Fossils everywhere |
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| It's undermined so more will come down soon |
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| It's all being washed into the sea |
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| Fossils strewn far and wide by fierce waters |
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| Machair landscape with lovely flowers |
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| I think these stones were used for cooking outdoors |
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| Lovely meadows with ruined walls and cottages |
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| Drascombe Lugger sailing away |
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| Pile of rocks |
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| Sweet flowers |
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| Found treasures |
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| Time to head home |
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| Seal in the mussel farm |
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| Deadly rock |
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| Beautiful eerie Clew Bay |
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| Reflections |
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| The calm before the storm |
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| At our mooring overnight |
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| Heading home before the storm |
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