Going There #5: Rivers, Cliffs, the Rock, and the Hat
Rivers pass through many Irish cities but in Limerick this bold, beautiful river holds the center.
The River Shannon, longest river in Ireland, flows right through Limerick, shown here from Arthur’s Quay near the city’s old town. That’s King John’s castle in the distance.
I arrived in Limerick at Arthur’s Quay where many buses stop, about a two-minute walk to my Limerick hotel, The Old Quarter Townhouse. Great location. Nice hotel. This was my second base in Ireland from which I would explore special sites. Back in my Dublin hotel the man at the desk recommended the bus that brought me, and his advice was good. There in Dublin I was able to walk from the hotel to Burgh Quay, the quay on Dublin’s River Liffey where the bus picked me up, and it was a pleasant ride south through Ireland’s green fields. Dublin and Limerick both have bus stations but I was surprised that many long-haul buses had major stops on these quays along the rivers.
In Dublin a young woman had taken the bus seat beside me and slept for a while, but when she woke we began chatting, though with some difficulty. Her English was limited, and I asked where she came from. “Mongolia,” she said. I was surprised. I came to Ireland to meet the Irish and here I was meeting someone from Mongolia. I don’t think I’d ever met anyone from Mongolia before. With the help of her phone translating app she explained that she was traveling to Limerick to attend university there.
By the time we reached Arthur’s Quay in Limerick she was helping me find my way. A lovely person. She expressed a hope of meeting again, but I supposed her host family would have other things planned. And I had tours to take.
The Cliffs of Moher
My first tour from Limerick advertised stops at these magnificent cliffs as well as the mysterious Burren, a broad area where the land has turned to stone, like paving blocks covering many square miles. I had seen these sites before but, like the revisits I did out of Dublin, I wanted to visit them this time and take pictures for social media and to help in my descriptions of places my book characters go.
A thrill washed through me on seeing the Cliffs of Moher again, my third visit to this amazing place. And a perfect day to see it.
A soft wind carried the sound of bird calls. So many birds–puffins, gulls, and more–nesting in the cliff edges and soaring over the water.
Since I last visited the cliffs a stone fence has been added to the main trail overlooking the cliffs. All the way up to O’Brien’s Tower at the peak. I walked to the tower, then down around where the trail follows the tops of the most picturesque cliffs, with a less intrusive fence. Musicians added to the birdsongs. A glorious morning.
After ample time at the cliffs the tour took us to lunch at a small restaurant that did an amazing job accommodating the sudden rush from tour buses. And my quiche was excellent.
I hadn’t heard the guide talk about the Burren, and I asked him about it. They had dropped the Burren from the tour for some reason I didn’t quite understand. Something to do with small towns there having a problem handling all the big buses. A disappointment for me, but I had to let it go.
The Rock of Cashel
The next day my excursion to the Rock I would take on my own, using the public bus system. The timetable showed many stops but fortunately the bus only stopped when a passenger asked for it or someone stood waiting at the stop to get on. Most we sailed right on by. When the reader board inside the bus showed Cashel as the next stop I began to watch our surroundings more closely. On my left the great rock appeared in the midst of a broad plain, brooding clouds overhead.
The buildings weren’t there at the time of my story but I have a vital scene at the site of this great outcrop.
A short walk from the bus stop brought me to the base of the Rock. From this spot you get a much better idea of the massive boulders of mottled white limestone that curve around the height on this side, bright-green turf between the stones. I scrambled up them a ways because I needed to get the feel of the climb. It was precarious. I didn’t dare slip.
These buildings, dating back to the 12th century AD, came well after my story, but I had to go inside. A little drafty without a roof. Black rooks, cousins of the crows, seem to love it, nesting in crevices and flying overhead with their haunting cries. The whole place seems a little haunted. I suppose the many burials add to that. Some graves are ancient. Some quite new. I’m sure the place has many stories to tell.
This new visit helped me a lot in telling my own. And I appreciated the great view from the plateau overlooking the plains below. Before I left the site those looming clouds began to leak. I took cover for a while but it didn’t show signs of letting up. I didn’t bring an umbrella. My little rain jacket had to ward off what it could. By the time I made the short run into town I was pretty wet, but I ducked into the nice cafe where I’d had another of my scone lunches, ordered something else for an excuse to stay until I dried off a little, and was glad enough when a warm bus came for my return to Limerick. The spirit of the Rock lingered with me.
It Was the Hat
My last day in Limerick I decided to see the local attraction of King John’s castle. Impressive enough on the River Shannon. The site still resonates with power from 1200 AD when King John of England had it built. History on the location goes back to the 900s AD when the Vikings came.
On my return from there I was contemplating looking into a shopping center for souvenirs for family when I noticed a woman walking down the street. It was her hat that caught my attention. I had seen that hat before. Yes! On the bus from Dublin. In all the bustling city of Limerick how would you expect to meet someone you met before? I saw only her profile and her hat covered much of her face. But on the bus I had particularly noticed her hat. I stepped over and spoke. Her eyes lit up and we shared a strong hug. My friend from Mongolia.
It’s not a great picture of either of us. She’s much prettier with warm, bright eyes, and I don’t usually have jowls, but it’s us. I believe her given name is Erdene. The contact name she gave me is Bolor-Erdene. But I could never quite understand her when she told me.
It was a lovely afternoon and we enjoyed a couple hours walking up the river together. Talking. Sharing words. Laughing. We talked about Mongolia and about Oregon and showed each other pictures of our homes on our phones. She especially loved the swans along the River Shannon. What a delight!
NEXT: Heart of the Heart
