As a true Blue Jackeen (native of Dublin) I love Dublin, but the one thing I always tell visitors (the term "tourist" is very rarely used in Ireland) is by all means enjoy a day and maybe one night in Dublin, have a pint or two in one of the last few remaining decent tradtional pubs (Kehoes, Toners, Dohney & Nesbitts etc) but after that get out of Dublin and head west. Nothing will prepare you for Connemara. The spectacular scenery, the friendly locals, the great pubs and traditional music, fantastic beaches and just a general feeling of being away from it all out on the farthest tip of Western Europe you can get to.

From Galway head for Clifden but make sure to take the road through the Inagh Valley. Spectacular 360 degree walled valley with the beautiful Lake Inagh running through it.

If you have time, take a trip out to Inisboffin Island for a day, wild and unspoilt with two bars and about 80 local residents and a former hideout of the 16th century great Irish Pirate Queen herself Grace O'Malley.

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The town of Clifden, famous for the first Trans-Atlantic flight having landed there, is a thriving cosmopolitan town with new apartments being built and the pubs and restaurants full.

The old railway station has been carefully incorporated into apartment blocks next to the station hotel. Remnants of the old platform have been kept as part of the walkway, and the old lines, sleepers and signal switches are embedded into the pedestrian area. The locomotive shed and stationmaster’s house are part of the development and even the new block of shops has been sensitively dealt with in the design process. The whole effect works well with vernacular references to the railway, which played a significant part in Clifden’s development.

The area has walks for all abilities in the Connemara National Park.

Going to Clifden is worth it, not only because of the town, but the actual journey is so spectacular with the barren rock landscape surrounded by drowned peat hags fringed with reeds.

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The Killary, as it’s known to the locals is the only fjord in Ireland and was gouged out of the rock by the glaciers of the last ice-age. The town of Leenane is close by, where the film The Field was made, and I suspect they are still living on the merits of it.

The Connemara Princess, a state of the art catamaran will take you on a most enchanting ninety-minute tour of this fjord, complete with commentary, video and very pleasant food and drink. Along the way, sheer cliffs drop to unimaginable depths while sheep cling impossibly to the precipice. Terns plunge into the slate grey surface of the fjord, to surface, most times triumphantly, with fish in their beaks.

On the far shore, the remains of lazy beds can be seen from famine times, where potatoes were grown, their nutrition gained by the back-breaking labour of trailing seaweed from the shoreline up onto the slopes. Until a tax was levied on it. Lazy beds? A misnomer if ever there was one.

Apparently during the last war, there was a great storm off this coast and in order to take shelter, two submarines patrolling the Atlantic, put into the Killary. The only problem was that one was British and one was German. And Eire was neutral. In order to avoid what could have been an international incident, the Government of the Republic ignored them, the submarines ignored each other, and the crews met down the pub for the craic during the three days it took for the storm to blow over! Apparently there was a continuous stream of Arthur Guinness’s dray horses delivering from Clifden. Now that’s what’s called a peace process!
Only problem was afterwards when the storm was over, and they went out into the Atlantic, instead of sinking pints they started sinking each other.

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One of the best things about staying somewhere in Ireland is the welcome. We were greeted at our most delightful bungalow in Kilkieran by the McDonagh family, who lived next door, (00353-95-33-476 if you’re thinking of going). Mrs. McD. had her own freshly baked bread for us with tea served in an immaculate tea set.

Everything was better than good, the turf fire, the rooms, the Jacuzzi, the bed linen, the towels, the view….

It was all a delight, especially the view. The garden was a half-acre of rough sea grass framed by the characteristic dry stone walls of Connemara, and beyond, a view to die for. The sea stretched out flat to the islands where huge mackerel skies hung over the landscape while sun-warmed salt-laden air that tingled the lips, kissed the honeysuckle growing in the crevices of the lichen covered walls.

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There are two Portakabins as ticket offices at the harbour, each owned by a different family, each vying for your custom and each boat leaving at the same time. Only fifteen minutes sailing to the island. Worth going to though, for walking and the most magnificent of views as there isn’t too much to see apart from a shop, a tiny hotel and a public toilet.

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