Weatherforecasts had been horrifying, and the 1st day of my trip around Eire is completely living up to it. Remnants of clerical buildings and roundtowers might look classy on a gray and rainy day, but the Cliffs of Moher - cloaked in thick wet fog - are a bit disappointing (esp. considering the horrendous parking fee of 8 Euro!) and there's not much to see of the karst landscape of The Burren, either... To hit the "promised lands" of Connemara a little better prepared, I decide to check out Galway's Oifig Faílte (the tourist info) first. Bad idea. Not only is rush-hour anything but driving in a rush, but some traffic lights fail and send the tiny city into chaos. No parking space whatsoever to be had, and eventually that office is closed anyway. So I just manage to reach the hostel in Oughterard for the night.
And then I enter Connemara, and I know this will always remain 1 of my favourites. After all the dull flatness of the midlands with their ever present stonewalls and hedges that deny any views whatsoever, now these dramatic mountains interspersed with sky-reflecting lakes and surrounded with the most beautiful atlantic coastline: awesome! If I had more time left to explore the country, I would stay longer... But since I need to keep going, I skip the Connemara Pony Show that happens to be on today in Clifden, and go on to tackle the Upper and Lower Diamond Hill Walk within the Connemara NP. Today the sun breaks through a couple of times, but heavy showers lash me sideways while cresting. Almost dry again from the constant wind I get hit by another pour-down just halfway back, this time from the front. Windswept, but all dried up and happy I finish under the brightest sunshine. And I haven't quite hit the road again, when the next rain cloud empties its contents on us... Unswayed I head further north to witness the most extraordinary clash of "heavenly and earthly waters": heavy down-pours on Achill Island and the Atlantic Ocean - to put it plainly. Around a bend I have to find a well-kept tomcat die before my very eyes, run over by a hit-and-run driver... As it is getting late, I set out to find some hostel in the Nephin Beg Range, of which I will learn later that it was closed due to a massive landslide. Worn out from hours of searching for it on dark, single lane backcountry roads, I eventually knock at a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, and end up well-fed on a comfy couch on Barbara's, Paddy's and Patrick's homestead :-).