Whoever is at Galway and does not shrink from a three hours' sail
should really make the voyage to Aran: a little steamer in these
bustling times plies in and out twice or thrice weekly. In the sail
down the bay you have the long low shore of Connemara on your right
with the Twelve Pins rising in superbly grouped mass behind it: on your
left, the steep shore of Burren, its rocks shining in the sun, and as
you open out, the cliffs of Moher dark and frowning away south of you.
Between you and America lie the islands--three of them, Inishmore,
Inishmaan, and Inishere--stretching a vast breakwater against gales
from the west and sou'west. Inishmore, the Big Island, lies nearest,
and when you are landed at Kilronan, the adjacent fields and hill
slopes are not much stonier than Connemara. But on Inishmaan you land
direct on to a formation of vast, flat flagstones, stepped upwards
tier by tier, and you walk as if on pavement, though a pavement filled
with deep chinks and crevices in which grow quantities of maidenhair
fern. You have easy walking, perhaps, for ten yards together, then a
kind of a leap. Here, still, most of the people wear not boots but
pampooties--moccasins of raw hide: and men and women alike have the
free forward rising gait of those who walk as nature designed man to
walk, springing off the ball of the toe. Nearly all are in homespun
homewoven cloth, grey or dyed with indigo and madder: the women wear
grey shawls, the men frequently a tam-o'-shanter, but oftener the
black corded _caubeen_ which is the most picturesque of headgear.
Inishmaan is the place to see Aran in its most characteristic aspect
and community, hardly touched by the modern world--though many a man
and woman there knows well the great cities of eastern America. I
heard of a man who made his journey across every autumn: he had been
gardener to a rich American, and the millionaire would let no other
prune his grapes but this handy islander. So back and forward he went,
year by year, on this errand, returning always to his own cabin, his
shelter under the thatch which strong lashings held in place against
the storm.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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