My third and final day upon Inisheer was to be fairly uneventful. A group of us had been stranded there (I had been there the longest), and were now itching to move on. We all met down on the dock at 9:30am, when the ferry was reported to be leaving. We waited. The ferryman did not arrive, contrary to all the Greek myths, and finally a man came out saying the weather was too bad for sailing, but that he could try again in the afternoon. He predicted bad weather though, and made no promises. The prospect of being there for another night was not the most exciting, but I would make the most of it.
We all spent the day indoors. One German woman made tea for all of us, and bought apple tart and some almond bread that proved to be the perfect ingredient for that cold, windy, and rainy day on the island.
Around 4:00 one of the visitors came back to the hostel and announced that a different ferry company was heading to Galway at 4:30, and that was our only chance of getting off the island that day. By then I had decided that I would be unable to go to Inishmore, and so opted to go to Galway. From Galway I could catch a bus back to Doolin (where I had parked my car) and from there continue my journey south and then return to Dublin.
As you might recall, my trip over from Doolin was horrible. I am not a fan of boats, and I was not looking forward to this trip, which was to run 40 minutes. The ferry was a bit larger than the one I had arrived on, and I hoped that would make for smoother sailing.
That hope was to be dashed about 2 minutes in. The waves were larger, if possible, and I began feeling sick almost as soon as we set sail. The only thing I cared about at that point was getting off and back onto solid ground. Oh, it was bad!
Fast forward an hour, and we had finally arrived at Rossaveal, a small town 20 minutes from Galway. I had survived my journey across the sea without chunking, something I was grateful for, but was to suffer lingering nausea for the next five hours.
The trip into Galway was uneventful, as was my stay in the very nice hostel just beside the bus station. The lady I rode in with talked incessantly (she was from Hawaii, ironically) and I declined her invitation to the pub, on the pretext that I was still unwell. I was, but even more so, I was sick of her constant chatter. I did need some sustenance, and so found a hole in the wall, Abrakebabra, which was cheap and tasted like it. All I really wanted was sleep, and so I scurried back to the hostel, worked a bit on my script, and then turned in, grateful to be back on the mainland and looking forward to continuing my explorations.
Next up, my trip back to Doolin, and my journey to the warmer climes of Killarney.