After a fairly sleepless night in Galway, Clare and I woke to a delicious breakfast at The Sliding Rock Inn. Afterward, we went upstairs, packed up, and then headed out to meet Clare’s “baby brother” (he’s 23) at a convenience store a few blocks away. The weather was gloomy–cold and rainy–which did not fit with my plans. I shot a prayer upward, asking God to clear the skies for us.
I know, I know. There’s a lot more going on in the world than the skies clearing up in Ireland. God is probably pretty busy with the wars, those who are sick, death and dying, lost children, etc. I understand and respect that. But I prayed anyway. After all, today’s plan was to drive along the Connemara Loop, something I’d been looking forward to since I saw a photo of the glass-like, mist-covered waters sitting serenely beneath a range of rolling green hills.
Clare and I followed in her car behind Alistair. Within minutes, the sun broke through the clouds and the rain stopped. It didn’t take long before the first breathtaking vista to come into view. Alistair pulled into a lookout, and we immediately got out of the car, phones (with cameras) at the ready. I took several shots and wondered if it were really possible to capture the majesty of the land around me.
The Connemara Loop, located in northwest Ireland, Connemara, County Galway, is also part of the Wild Atlantic Way. During my visit in 2019, Clare and I had skirted this area, but had not been able to really stop to observe (we’d been more focused on the Cliffs of Moher). This time, I wasn’t missing Connemara.
Every stop after the first offered another awe-inspiring experience, each one building on the other. At one point, Alistair said, “Eva, you must have some powerful influence with the Man upstairs because I thought it was going to rain on us all day.” I laughingly told him that, as it turned out, I happen to be God’s favorite. (Of course, I know I’m not … it was a joke.)
We continued on around the loop with the goal of making Clifden (the main town) by teatime. I couldn’t help but gawk at each vista at each stop. At one, Alistair helped this old girl climb onto an old stone fence for a better view of a farm with its dotting of sheep (I love sheep).
We passed what I later learned to be Pine Island Viewpoint (the viewpoint at Derryclare Lough). My head whipped around, and I said to Clare, “Stop. Turn back.” Alistair was a good distance ahead of us, but I knew he’d either realize that we’d stopped, or Clare would call him and ask him to wait for us on up ahead. Clare turned the car around, then pulled next to several other cars. Along the water’s bank were several photographers, both amateur and professional.
I later learned that this is one of the most pictured places in Ireland. Well, I get it. The water that day was more mirror than liquid; it was nearly impossible determine where reality began and reflection took over. A section of the Twelve Bens Mountain Range, the brilliant blue sky, and the dotting of clouds rose before us like a painting.
I was grateful Clare listened to my plea to turn around. And, even with the stop, we managed to make it to Clifden in time for a little refreshment before heading to what I thought just might be the end of the earth.
Lesson learned on the Connemara? Sometimes it pays to climb on old fences . . . and sometimes it pays to stop and turn around. Second lesson: Even the “little prayers” are important to God.