Feel The Burren

For anyone I've chatted with in recent years, you may (or may not) know that I've become slightly obsessed with Ancestry.com ever since my family bought me a subscription that sent me spiraling down the rabbit hole of archived immigration and census records from the last few hundred years.

In chasing some of the branches of the family tree, Jackie and I have discovered multiple points in Ireland from which our ancestors hailed.  One of the goals of the trip to Ireland for me was being able to set foot on the home fields of at least one of my ancestors.  And while many of the records are nearly impossible to help narrow down specific locations, one of the few pieces of history I've been able to glean was the birthplace of my great-grandmother, Bridget Sullivan, who was born in 1857 in a small village called Darragh just outside of Ennis in County Clare.

I was able to check the box in terms of visiting said village, though truth be told, when Jack and I took a detour to check it out, it was one of those don't-blink-or-you'll-miss-it locales.  In fact, the only sign we could find of what remains of the village adorns a gas station.

I actually tried to ponder what would convince a 13-year-old girl to pack up and come to the states, leaving these green fields and roaming meadows behind.  My Aunt Helen reports that Bridget came these ways to take a job as a nanny for a family in Chelmsford, fleeing the famine that was ravaging her homeland at the time.

Whatever the reason, it's lost to time now, but it did provide us with a reason to include Ennis as part of our itinerary on our Ireland trip, and it was fulfilling for a number of reasons.

It also provided me with the opportunity to locate a pub bearing a familiar name.

Right around the corner from our hotel was another pub, Brogan's, which provided the naming inspiration for the Vergados' beloved and loyal canine family member.

On the particular day we were in Ennis, the County Clare hurling team was playing in the Ireland tournament, and the blue and yellow banners were flying everywhere! (I bought one and have it proudly hanging in my work office now.)

Up Clare!

Ennis also served as a homebase for us to wander out a bit and go explore Burren National Park and some of the attractions that speckle that neck of the woods.

It also provided the opportunity for us to see that John's seething resentment of cairn building was alive and well in some of the most remote locations in Ireland

#BuildNoCairns

Say hello to Tuama Poll na Bron, or the Poulnabrone Tomb

The bones of 33 people were discovered here in 1985 - they were dated to somewhere around 5,000+ years ago!

The Tomb is surrounded by these distinct limestone rock formations, which are known as clints - the crevasses between them are called grikes, furrows that form when rainwater dissolves the limestone.  The round holes, or hollows are called kamenitzas, which are also carved out by rain.

So yeah, clints, grikes and kamenitzas - who knew?

We had the plains virtually to ourselves to explore, and it was a moody but fascinating stop

From there we continued up to Ballycahill, outside of  Aillwee Cave

This respite provided some of the most indescribable inland panoramas of the whole trip. 

Nothing but green to see for miles and miles around us

And no one I'd rather hug and embrace in these settings than this lovely lady

We ventured into one of the oldest caves in Ireland, but alas, the subterranean lighting didn't yield itself to quality pics.

It did, however, allow me to channel my inner Gandalf and remind any nearby Balrogs that they could not pass.

Sadly, no Mole Man sightings to be had.
Back in the bright light of day, we wandered over to Cahermore, a stone fort, or caher, built sometime between 500 to 1,170 AD.

It's a national monument that provides views of Galway Bay, Ballyvaughan village and various castles that dot the landscape.

From there we made our way to Ballivaughan Pier for a pint and a relaxing timeout

A truly unforgettable pass through County Clare.  And while I wasn't able to find any cemeteries or historical markings that yielded new scraps of info for the Sadlier branch of my family tree (my mother's grandmother and grandfather), I felt like I was able to at least officially log some steps in the Old Sod on behalf of the Cooks, Kings and O'Neils.