Glenlo Abbey
Losing our way several times on Galway’s roads because of roundabouts that we didn’t quite understand, we finally arrive at Glenlo Abbey, our hotel for the next two nights, late. And I mean late. Remember, when we arrived at Kylemore Abbey and Aughnanure Castle, both were closed. I think it was around 8:00 p.m., but it was still relatively light outside, which was fortunate. Why was it fortunate, you ask? Because we would have never, and I mean never, found Glenlo Abbey in the dark!
You know, that’s the great thing about traveling Ireland in August – it stays light up until 8:30 to 9:00 p.m., giving crazy American girls who are driving around the countryside on their own, ample opportunity to make it to their evening destination and NOT have to spend the night in the car, alongside a wooded country road! Another blessing!
Glenlo Abbey, built in 1740, was the ancestral home of one of the 14 tribes of Galway. The private church on the grounds was never consecrated and never used as a church because of a family tragedy that happened during construction. Situated on 138 acres, it has operated as a hotel since 1992 and is the only 5-star resort in the Galway area.
This is our first experience with what Christin christens the “Ricky & Lucy” set-up (in honor of the old “I Love Lucy Show” and Ricky’s and Lucy’s bedroom, which included two twin beds very close together). We shared a room throughout the trip to save money and asked for twin beds in all of our hotels (or even two queens). In all of hotels we stayed in while on this trip, the arrangement of the twins beds is very close together, about a foot or less apart. The rooms can be quite large (we stayed in some very nice places), but the beds were pushed very close together. The headboards are usually attached to the walls and the beds attached to the headboards, so moving them to create more space is not an option.
We ask for a different room and are escorted by a porter to two other available rooms, all with the same set-up. So, after a quick dinner in their bar (the dining room was now closed for the evening), we retire for the night in our Ricky and Lucy beds.
May you have warm words on a cold evening,
A full moon on a dark night,
And the road downhill all the way to your door.
Day 3 – the Magical Aran Islands
After a nice buffet breakfast in the gorgeous dining room overlooking the rolling countryside, we hop into Big Bertha and leave Glenlo Abbey for a trip to Inishmore, the largest of the 3 Aran Islands.
The day before, while at the Visitor Center in Galway, the charming Charlotte sold us a bill of goods about taking a ferry to the largest of the Aran Islands because it was “full of crack” and the locals were crazy. After thinking about this for a bit, Christin asked her what this meant and we learned that “crack” is Irish slang for “fun.” We were quite relieved to learn that the inhabitants of Inishmore (also known as Inis Mor; everything in Ireland seems to have at least two names!) weren’t all crazy, drugged out wastrels! (Note: Irish “crack” is spelled “craic” in Irish = fun)
So, we bought ferry tickets and Charlotte told us to be at Salthill, a suburb on the coast of Galway Bay at 1:00 p.m. the next day to catch our ferry. Well, we arrived at Salthill, the “Santa Monica Pier” of Ireland, a charming, bustling seaside promenade at around 11:00 p.m. and pulled into a large parking area along the shore and saw no ferries.
Looking around, I spot a shop across the street, whose awning reads “Aran Island Tickets Sold Here.” So, I walk over to the shop and talk to the proprietor, who explains to me that we need to drive to the village of Rossaveal, which is about an hour west of Galway!
Lucky for us that we had about an hour and a half to spare! Another blessing! So, in true Irish fashion, he told me, “it’s easy; just keep the ocean to your left and you will find Rossaveal.” This was a somewhat true statement, but at some point along the way, the coastline ended, turning into marshland and guess what? All the road signs were in Gaelic!
That’s right, folks! Not all of Ireland has road signs in English! Some have road signs in English, some have road signs in English and Gaelic (Irish to the Irish), and some have road signs in only Gaelic! So, while traveling the backroads (or sometimes the only roads) in Ireland are “easy” to the locals, silly California girls are doomed to get lost!
This part of the Irish coastline is rugged and barren and we pass a campsite of “travelers” and I told Christin they were Irish gypsies (my story for the day). We found large wooden road signs with big looking boats on them and figured they must be ferries, so followed those signs and finally arrived at the ferry landing! Whew! Crisis diverted.
An Irish Blessing for you…
May your blessings outnumber
The shamrocks that grow,
And my trouble avoid you
Wherever you go.
The story continues on Page 6…
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