August 1, 1999

On Foot In Inishmore

By DENISE FAINBERG

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A 30-mile trudge past ancient Celtic holy places, including a graveyard claiming more than 120 saints

ne thing I wondered, as the boat plowed over the sea to Inishmore: Was I capable, at 5 foot 1 and 47 years, of doing the kind of walking tour I wanted to do? Solo, with no one to carry my pack, stopping where I felt like it? I had slimmed my load down to about 20 pounds; I had carried it halfway around the globe. Was that preparation enough?

	Frank McGrath for The New York Times
	On a cliff at Dun Aengus, Inishmore.

Like England and Scotland, Ireland offers a series of Waymarked Ways -- hiking trails that follow traditional public rights of way, other footpaths or country roads through some of the country's most beautiful and interesting areas. For the most part, trails are laid out so that the walker will find a village with accommodation at the end of the day, obviating the need to carry tent and sleeping bag. I had chosen the Inishmore Way, which circles the largest of the three Aran Islands -- Inishmore, Inishmaan and Inisheer -- lying between Galway Bay and the Atlantic. At 30 miles, it offered a manageable distance without significant ups or downs, a concentration of archeological sites and lots of seabirds.

Geologically, the islands are an extension of the Burren in County Clare, on the mainland to the southeast: an uplifted, tilted limestone block. Water percolates right through it, leading sometimes to water shortages and preventing the formation of the typical Irish land form: the bog. Peat for fires had to be imported from Galway. The resulting flora are unique: Mediterranean and Alpine species meet here, attracting masses of tiny multicolored butterflies.

At about 7:30 of a long Irish June evening, the ferry deposited me at Kilronan, the port of Inishmore (or Inis Mor). I had reserved a bed at Mainistir House, a hostel about a mile up from the village. Aha, I thought, tripping up the hill. This wasn't so hard. The hostel was friendly, and the South African manager even did my laundry. Like most hostels, it had an international, but not exclusively young, clientele; a Dublin couple -- language professors -- and I represented the older set. As promised, it was quiet after 11, and a hearty breakfast was included in the fee of $9.75.

After consuming porridge, tea and homemade brioches, I decided to cheat. The island is oriented northwest to southeast, and is divided by a couple of bays into three segments. From Mainistir I could easily cover the southeastern segment of the Way, about 12 miles including spurs to places of interest, and be back in time for dinner. Without a backpack.

On the way, I took in Ionad Arann, the islands' heritage center. On display are artifacts, costumes, and images of Aran life as it was until a few decades ago: the red skirts and long, dark cloaks of the women; bird catching, in which men were lowered at night on ropes down 300-foot cliff faces to catch nesting birds, a dietary staple; and Galway "hookers," the freight sailboats that brought turf for Aran hearths and took livestock to the mainland. Then I picked up the trail on a paved road skirting the beach and headed for the hamlet of Killeany.

Apart from Kilronan, settlements on Inishmore consist of a few houses and sometimes a pub. Killeany comprises about a dozen houses strung along the road. Its name, Cill Einne in Gaelic, means Enda's Church, Enda being an Irish saint who died around 530. His monastery here, which flourished until Viking times, was one of the earliest in Ireland, and was quite extensive. But much of the stone was ransacked by Cromwell's men in the 1650's for fortifications, so only scattered ruins remain.

The first of these becomes visible a little past the village, on the left, where a cemetery appears. Within the grounds, whose gravestones date from yesterday to the early days of the foundation, stands the old Church of St. Enda, sunk behind sand dunes and open to the sky.

This is considered the holiest spot on the island; according to tradition, over 120 saints lie buried here, including, supposedly, St. Enda himself, though no one can point out his particular grave. Certainly some of the stones are exceedingly old: the narrow, roughly hewn vertical rocks rising two to four feet above the ground are typical of the fifth century. The church dates from the seventh or eighth century, with some later remodeling. A simple rectangle, it measures perhaps 15 feet by 20 feet. Carved fragments of a Celtic high cross stand inside one wall, while similar carvings decorate the altar. As I sat there, tiny raindrops began to dot the graveled floor, and a breeze passed over the nonexistent roof.

After Enda's Church, the path leaves the road and proceeds over a humpy meadow underlain by rabbit warrens. The creatures were numerous and sometimes startling: by a trick of island perspective, a rabbit on a hillock against the sky looked, for a moment, as big as a cow on a ridge. Wheatears flashed white feathers over the grass, and lapwings, the large plovers of the wilder British Isles, called plaintively.

	Frank McGrath for The New York Times
	Ruins of the ramparts and interior of Dun Ducathair, the Black Fort, on Inishmore.

With a little climbing over rocks, I found myself at the eastern end of the island. Inishmore's cliffs begin here and continue all along the Atlantic side. To the southeast, Inishmaan and Inisheer rise, tilted, from the sea, and beyond them, County Clare and the Cliffs of Moher.

This portion of the trail returns to Kilronan the way it came; I detoured to take in the remains of a round tower, the shaft of a high cross, and another early church set high on a ridge, all remains of St. Enda's foundation. Nearby were the remains of two beehive huts, or clochans. The sky was now bright blue, and pink mallows pushed through the limestone.

That evening, sitting up in bed, I abruptly fell through onto the bunk below. The manager was profoundly apologetic for this Sweeney-Todd-like setup, refunded my bed and dinner fees, and put me into another bed. But the sheets were slightly damp, and I awoke with a sore throat.

The next day was sunny and warm. I trotted back to Kilronan to pick up the next leg of the route. Leaving the harbor, the trail winds east and then north, then turns into narrow roads between stone walls. Across Galway Bay, hilly Connemara rose, green with white fringes of surf. There for a week, and on foot, I felt leisurely and privileged.

Soon the trail reaches Teampall i Chiarain, another ancient monastery, founded by St. Ciaran before he went on to found Clonmacnois. Sprinkled about the grounds are stone cross-slabs, precursors of the famous carved high crosses. They look primitive, and perhaps the more arresting for that -- smooth stone oblongs standing on end, four to six feet high, each incised with a simple, circled cross.

I retrieved my pack at the hostel, then rejoined the trail headed for Kilmurvey, four miles westward. It continued along the coast on the bay side, passing ledges where seals sometimes rest. On the left, square stony fields -- many created from seaweed by backbreaking labor -- rose to the island's long crest. The sun was fairly beating down, or so it seemed, now that I carried a pack.

After a lovely though sweaty trudge, I was grateful to round into the curve of Kilmurvey Bay. Families were sunning themselves on the white sand; some children even splashed in the gentle waves. The sight was, briefly, tempting, but I proceeded through the village to Kilmurvey House, a large, gracious Georgian mansion, now a comfortable and welcoming bed-and-breakfast.

After a few bargain nights in hostels, I often feel the need for a bit more comfort and privacy. Kilmurvey House certainly provided both: my room, at $32.50, was airy, with a luxurious double bed, private bath, and hair dryer. I was pleased with myself. Soon, however, I began to shiver with fever. Was some bug going to stop me in my tracks?

Later I stumbled down to Kilmurvey's one restaurant, Teac Nan Phaide, a family-style place specializing in local seafood. Even in my dazed state, I appreciated the freshness of my grilled salmon, served with the obligatory boiled potato. Half a dozen young Spaniards joined me. They had come to Ireland to work for a year or two, and were now taking a weekend off together.

In the morning I pressed on and marched the mile up to Dun Aengus, perhaps the most spectacular sight on Inishmore. With the ocean roaring below, the triple-walled, semicircular fortress perches on the very edge of the limestone precipice. Gannets and fulmars wheel by on the wind; below, guillemots and razorbills rise from the sea to their nests and swoop back down again. On the land side, outside the battlements, are acres of chevaux-de-frise: sharp rock slabs set vertically into the ground, making it virtually impossible for a person to pass, let alone a horse. Defensive measures, obviously; but against whom? To protect whom? No one knows what the point was -- Dun Aengus hadn't even a water supply to withstand a siege -- who built it, or how Inishmore provided enough workers to build it. And, strangely, this tiny island has several such forts, of dubious date; guesses range from 1000 B.C. to the early Christian period.

Dun Aengus Hostel was neat and trim and run by a very young and competent woman. At $9 a night, you couldn't go far wrong, though it did not offer breakfast and there were no shops. I sat in the common room, blowing my nose and reading Tim Robinson's "Stones of Aran," while other guests watched the World Cup on television. At suppertime I walked back to the restaurant for soup and bruschetta (yes, bruschetta, on Inishmore). The kind proprietress gave me a couple of acetaminophen tablets. I cadged a cough drop from the hostel's medicine chest and went to bed.

An Atlantic storm blew in overnight. Between health and weather, I decided, there would be no more backpacking. I would complete the Way in day hikes, with the hostel as my center. Between squalls, I braved the coastal road westward as far as Seven Churches (only two actually; the rest were monastic buildings). A curious grave is marked with cross-slabs and the inscription VII ROMANI.

In the morning I set out to loop around the western lobe of Inishmore. More remote and less developed, the last few hamlets recall earlier days; there are even one or two thatched cottages, which have nearly disappeared from the rest of the island. Then the road slopes down to the point at Cladach Bun Gabhla, where the villagers launch their traditional open boats, or curraghs, when the surf allows. The waters here race between Inishmore's tip and the lighthouse-topped islet half a mile off.

That evening, bonfires were lighted; it was St. John's Eve, June 23. Each village or hamlet has its traditional spot for the bonfire; ours was on the back road to Kilmurvey. About sunset -- well after 10 o'clock -- the tall stack of wood was set alight. Neighbors trickled in; hot and cold snacks materialized. Children capered gleefully around the wind-whipped fire, tossing in wood scraps. A baby toddled about under his father's watchful eye. People talked quietly in small groups; I chatted with three Welsh visitors. The next village's bonfire glowed a few miles away, and across the bay, on the Connemara side, orange pinpoints burned. I left at about 11:30 (it never seems to get dark in Ireland at midsummer), but others stayed up most of the night making merry.

	Frank McGrath for The New York Times
	Visitors at the graveyard of Seven Churches in Inishmore.

Before me lay the final segment of the trail: from Kilronan to Kilmurvey by the cliff road (actually a wide dirt track). The path leads south out of the village, then northwest, but there is an immediate optional detour to Dun Ducathair, or the Black Fort, another cliffside fort.

Then it was time to seek the connecting path, indicated on the trail map, to the cliff road. In my walking I found that the official map (available at the Tourist Office in Kilronan) did not always correspond to conditions on the ground; further, the signs were spotty: one could walk sometimes for miles without seeing a trail marker -- a stenciled yellow hiker and arrow. Such markers as exist are placed on the assumption that the walker is circling the island counterclockwise, which is in fact the most comfortable direction; but if for some reason one decides to be contrary, one can miss the signs. I did not find the connecting path, and had to walk back to the intersection.

It was an uphill slog for a couple of miles. This high side of the island is the rockiest, its fields fit only for grazing sheep and goats, and for producing quantities of tiny wildflowers. Here and there enormous rounded beige boulders lie as if stranded; which they were, when the glaciers that had carried them over from County Galway melted some 12,000 years ago. Then the track slides down to Gort na gCapall, a small fishing village, not far from where a little beach pierces the forbidding Atlantic side. Off the main tourist track, it seems that business here goes on much as it has for years.

From Gort na gCapall, a little road winds between the fields back to Kilmurvey. Schoolchildren were streaming home; it was the last day of classes, and freedom was in the air.

That evening I sat at my window with a slowly diminishing cough, gazing down to the rocky shore and across the bay. What of my walking aspirations? I hadn't, after all, backpacked the 30 miles around the island. But then, I hadn't had to. The Inishmore Way is comfortably done in day hikes, the better to enjoy the unencumbered views and fresh air. If you can walk unburdened, why not?

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How to cope on foot, bike, bus or pony trap

Getting There

Island Ferries, (353-91) 561767, runs a service from Rossaveal, 23 miles west of Galway City on the Connemara coast, to Kilronan several times a day (including the bus from Galway to Rossaveal). The bus-ferry trip takes just under two hours and costs $21 round trip. In July and August, O'Brien Shipping, (353-91) 567676, runs daily ferries direct from Galway.

Aer Arann, (353-91) 593034, serves all the Aran Islands by plane from Connemara Airport, 19 miles west of Galway City.

Accommodations

There are three hostels and numerous bed-and-breakfasts on the island. I stayed at these places:

Mainistir House, (353-99) 61169, for $9.75 a night (dormitory), including a hearty breakfast. On summer evenings a vegetarian dinner is served, for $9. Kitchen facilities are available; laundry is done for $6.50. Rental bikes are $6.50 a day.

Dun Aengus Hostel, Kilmurvey; (353-99) 61318; $9 a night, without meals. There are kitchen facilities and rental bikes.

Kilmurvey House, Kilmurvey, (353-99) 61218; fax (353-99) 61397. My double (one double bed) was $32.50. Includes breakfast (with freshly squeezed orange juice); dinner available on request for $18.

Where to Eat

	Frank McGrath for The New York Times
	A view from Dun Aengus, an ancient fortress.

In Kilronan, the Dun Aonghasa and Aran Fisherman Restaurant, (353-99) 61104, is open for lunch from 12:30 to 4 P.M., and for dinner from 5 to 10. The focus is on seafood, but pizza and pasta are also on the menu. Dinner for one runs from $15 to $25 without wine; adequate but slightly overpriced.

Teac Nan Phaidi, in Kilmurvey, (353-99) 61330, is thatch-roofed and whitewashed. Dinners run from about $17 to $20 a person without wine. Meals are family style; the food is fresh and well prepared. Open from 11 A.M. to 4 P.M. and from 7 to 9:30.

In addition, there are several pubs scattered around the island. But if you plan to stay somewhere other than Kilronan, it's a good idea to take along some food, which can be bought at the Spar supermarket in Kilronan.

When to Go

July and August are the high season, with warmest temperatures. September is quieter, usually with decent weather. I went in June; it was the usual Irish mix of sun, wind, and rain, with temperatures in the 60's and low 70's. The Aran Islands are said to get more sun and less precipitation than the mainland.

Transportation

If you're short of time, bikes are a good alternative to feet. Generally they can be rented for $6.50 a day; or you can take your own on the ferry. Back roads are rough: for mountain bikes only. There are no car rental outlets, but a public bus (yellow) runs up and down the island several times a day, and tour buses (red) will take you anywhere a minivan can go. Pony traps offer tours of two and a half hours in Kilronan and around the island for $26.

Maps of and information about the Inishmore Way are available at the tourist office in Kilronan, (353-99) 61263). Maps of the Inishmaan and Inisheer Ways are available at the tourist offices of those islands (353-99) 73010 and (353-99) 75008, respectively). The signs are not great, but then it's not easy to get lost.
-- DENISE FAINBERG