Hurricane Lorenzo is on his way, so I headed out early to view the Cliffs of Moher, a tourist staple (and for good reason). It was the very definition of a blustery day, however beautiful and wild (and the drive all along the western side of Ireland is aptly named “The Wild Atlantic”). Walked the paths, checking it out from different observation points and then drove along the coast to enjoy the wild surf and the small villages along the way. Returned to the Inn and walked down to the roadside tavern for lunch. Enjoyed hot smoked salmon from the local smokehouse, but while I was enjoying my dark beer, brewed just upstairs, I wandered to the next room, where I heard the rugby World cup being televised. Ran into 2 lovely gents, Dennis and Earl, and we chatted and laughed about a wide range of subjects, proving once again that living in a small village of an island nation out in the wild Atlantic doesn’t mean you don’t know what the fuck is what! Had a layabout in the afternoon, listening to the wind howl, then, per Dennis’ suggestion, drove out to the Doolin pier to see how the changing direction of the winds was stirring up the surf. Another lovely dinner at the Inn and called it good.
