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I can see I'll do B+B's whenever they have single beds. The difference of £1 is more than made up in the Irish breakfast and the comfort. What a bargain. The only problem is getting a B+B that has a single. If you take a double, you are charged a single supplement of about £5. My hostess in Lahinch calls Katerina in Doolin at the Riverfield B+B and reserves a single for me. After a wonderful Irish breakfast of milk and cereal followed by juice, egg, rashers, sausages, toast, fried tomato and coffee, I depart the Tudor Lodge around 9:30 a.m. and head back to Ennistimon to do some banking. The town has a pretty cascading river, and I write postcards by it as I wait for the bank to open at 10:00 a.m. My $400 in Traveler's Checks garners £247 Irish. After posting my cards (.38 p) and a letter for Marcia, I set off on a gray but fairly calm morning for the Cliffs of Moher, the tallest of which rises some 800 feet straight up from the sea. They can be seen in the distance as I begin my four miles of ascent, which requires a dismount at one point to sort of take stock and gather strength. But on the way I note a ruins of a castle on the cliffs of the village of Liscannor. An elderly lady on a bike points the way up, and I head towards a national primary school which has the ruined castle in its backyard. It is recess and the children in their blue uniforms are cavorting. They are not at all shy and four girls, two boys, and beautiful red-headed little Bride (pronounced Breed) pose happily for me with the castle as backdrop. I chat with the headmaster, John, who tells me that the Irish economy is booming, that housing is mushrooming around Lahinch thanks to government subsidies, and that, yes they teach religion in the public school but the non-Catholics are given options if they choose. He also tells me that the number of priests and nuns is declining rapidly and soon Ireland will have to import them as the U.S.A. did twenty years ago - but from Ireland then! He's the second Irishman to tell me that until priests are allowed to marry and women can become priests this diminution will continue unabated. He gathers the children; he and they wave goodbye. It is a typical little Irish interlude: unexpected, easy, and heart-warming. I remember John's final words to me as I peddle off: "It's mostly uphill but no bother; 'tis a lovely view when you arrive." I soon learn it is a "bother" as I make my stop to catch my wind and to strip off my sweatshirt, for the day has taken a wonderful turn to blue sky and sun. A strong northeast wind has blown out the fogs of gray and there are now just occasional low cumulus clouds scudding by. I am energized and make the final two miles with much strain but little difficulty. My wonderful Cannondale, loaded as it is, continues to perform nicely. The Cliffs of Moher are glorious and the ocean sparkles brilliantly. There are only a few buses in the parking lot and perhaps twenty cars. It's a perfect day to see the Cliffs. Had I gone yesterday, Sunday, they would have been hidden in a fog according to my Chicago friends who did trek there but were disappointed. So far I am doing things and going places that generally happen "last week" when on a holiday. My timing is perfect. The limestone cliffs take a constant battering from the sea. It's a slow process, of course, but it's obvious the sea is patient and effective. There are obvious signs all over of the wearing away of the cliffs, with O'Brien's Tower now only about 25 feet from the edge of the cliff. I take numerous photos from the top of O'Brien's, chat with a Swiss couple who are day-biking, and bike the remaining four miles downhill to Doolin and get great pleasure out of using my brakes for the first time on this day's journey. The views of the countryside, the sea, and a castle tower are stunning. Doolin is little more than a string of pubs and homes that are stretched along two miles of road way, but it is famous for its Irish music so worth the visit. I find my B+B almost immediately and am greeted by three delightfully friendly Cocker Spaniels - Mom, Dad, and Sunny Jim. They are inseparable and are always seen in a lump of black fur. They love to catch things, plastic football, pine cones, rocks. They keep me company as I write outdoors on the bench, but I am required to throw pine cones for them. They drop the cones at my feet and look up longingly. The sun is warm, and I bike to the pier to take some photos and inquire about the ferry to Inisheer Island. I decide to go Tuesday at 10:00 a.m. and return at 4:00 p.m. for a round-trip of £15 + £2 for the bike. Yeats wrote of the island, and, of course, Flaherty filmed the islanders back in the early 1930's under very difficult conditions. Man of Aran remains a classic documentary film. I return to Gus O'Connor's pub for Guinness beef stew and a bowl of seafood chowder. They are the reliable dishes in all pubs, but I
think tomorrow I will change my menu. This can get old. O'Connor's is the pub most famous for Irish music in Doolin, so I will probably return later. Ah, but the Irish hills have worn me down, and after a warm shower and bed and a good book, I am sleeping by 11:00 p.m. My biking totaled 20 miles of good hills. Tomorrow is a day of island trekking. (65 miles)
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