Death-march in Doolin

Lots has happened since my last post (nothing at all adoption-related), so much that capturing it all here feels impossible. Suffice it to say, I had to do a full load of laundry upon getting back to the country house, we used up our memory card on the camera, and there's a new rhubarb pie in the kitchen.

While Ted golfed and Ed napped, I got to spend a good chunk of time yesterday hiking with my dad, which brought back more than a few memories of our Yellowstone and Smoky Mountain death-marches on our yearly camping trips growing up. Daddy is half German and inherited their propensity to walk very long distances. When I was a kid, I often heard, "C'mon girls, let's just see what's around that next bend." Yesterday though, I kept hearing, "C'mon Lori, let's see what's above that next crest."

Daddy also said a few times, "Oh, don't you worry about that wire. Yeah, it's a live one, but the shock ain't that bad. It won't do permanent damage. Just creep right under it like this...."

We hiked from the town of Doolin, through cow field after cow field, over and under live wires, across rocky streams, and through cow pie minefields, all the way to the Cliffs of Moher. We did our share of scrambling up rocks and right up close to the edge along stretches like here:
Over at the actual Cliffs of Moher (which has become so touristy since the last time we were there three years ago), they've made it all pretty tidy with big walls and fences and warning signs like this, just in case you're thinking of getting too close to the edge:

Not on our hike though. No warning signs or walls for us. The only gate around us was the kind that could rip your flesh with rusty barbs or shock the crap out of you. At one point, I had a sharp drop to the ocean on my right and a live wire on my left, nowhere to go but straight ahead.

But through all this, I wasn't really scared until we met the bull. I love most every animal, but bulls freak me out, especially when I've unknowingly found myself on their turf. Daddy said that he's a lot like Doc, his border collie, needing to be run every day. So from now on, Ted made the point that every afternoon, we should make sure that Ed gets his nap, Daddy gets his walk, and we get our sit-down on a comfy couch with coffee.

Later that night, we ended up back at our favorite pub in Doolin where we go to listen to some pretty amazing traditional music and eat bowls of beef stew. Ed liked his:
We got a lot of video of the music, most of which is too dark and has poor sound quality, but maybe you can sort of get the idea with this:


Here's a glimpse into how gorgeous the Aran Islands are. We went to the smallest of the three today, Inisheer, where we hiked around more and made a doggie friend.



I also picked up some Irish chotchkies for another caption contest. Thanks to all those who submitted entries last time. It's a lot of fun for us to read these (btw, send me your email in a comment Stephanie, and you've got a surprise coming your way).

Caption Contest 2:

Now I'm pooped and am going to bed.