Dude, where's my yellow jersey?

*inhales deeply*

The Aran Islands (cousins, I think, to Blasket Island and Skellig Michael) are a group of three islands off the west coast of Ireland, the largest of which is Inishmore and measures 9 miles x 2 miles. It is often ranked in the top five places to visit in Ireland, probably because of the gorgeous landscapes and the quaintness of the isolated communities on the islands

Most people get to the Inishmore by 90-minute ferry, but I've already fully experienced the whole ferry option, and when I learned about the option to fly over in 8 minutes, I quickly chose the latter. The airport was teensy, which was reflected in its all things related to it.

Advertising on makeshift billboard for the airport.

The only check-in counter in the airport, complete with scaled (R)
to weigh passengers and balance the load.

I had originally bought my ticket for Friday (yesterday) because I could get earlier departures and later returns. And so that if the flights were canceled, I could reschedule for sometime this weekend. The fog on our side burned off pretty soon after the sun finally finished rising, but Inishmore insisted on sleeping in. The remaining blanket of fog over the landing strip thwarted our plans of flying over that day. Somewhere, a record needle scratched across a vinyl record and the agents asked people to either reschedule or hop over to the ferry.

Well, luckily I had built in some wiggle room into my plans, so I drove around Connemara instead on Friday and rescheduled Inishmore for Saturday.

Low-tech booking hardware. But hey, it works in a power outage!

When I arrived at the airport this morning, I was pleased to find that the weather decided to cooperate today and they loaded us up. I was less pleased to find that they gave the coveted front seat to someone besides me! Something about balancing the plane and wanting to not crash. psh.

A grand total of nine passengers fit in the plane, which was basically a minibus with a large wingspan. I that it was totally cool; I'd never flown in a plane so small! There was something very exhilarating about feeling the plane sway side-to-side with gentle gusts of wind that just isn't the same in a jumbo jet. It's like I was reminded often of the relatively precarious position that gliding through the air is.

Baggage deplaning.

Arrivals and Departures Hall.

There are a few options for exploring the island: minibus tour, horse-drawn cart tour, or cycling tour. As I had the extra time and have grown accustomed to enjoying my traveling independence, I opted for the freedom--and much-needed exercising--that self-propelled and -guided cycling offered.

My steed for the day.

Dún Aonghasa (or Angus Fort) is the main attraction on Inishmore. It is the ruins of a stone ring forts that date from around the Bronze Age to about 1000 AD. Knowing that the boatloads (literally) of ferry passengers would be arriving an hour or two after I had, and anticipating that Dún Aonghasa was also high on their list, I hopped on and pushed the pedals to the figurative medal.

After riding quite a while and through hilly areas (it's funny how you don't realize how much elevation change there is along a path until you run or cycle it), I saw some stones resting atop a hill in the distance. Correction: I saw stones organized in ruined circular formations. One thing I've learned about Ireland is there is often exposed bedrock and also many stone walls.

 After a few more minutes of huffing and puffing--this time on foot--I arrived at the top of the hill, the other side of which was a 200 ft cliff.

No guard rails. Watch your step!

It was fun to people watch and observe how hesitant people were by the edge. Of course, it's understandable, as huge gusts of wind could easily cause someone to lose balance.

But there were three creatures who didn't seem to mind the cliffs. A friendly, young dog followed me up to the fort, which was nice (though not as awesome as if it'd been a stoic mountain cat). At the top, a two birds near the edge chirped upon our arrival, the dog's ears perked up, tail wagged with fervor, and he emitted an excited yelp. They engaged in a daredevil game, for the dog at least. The birds would land on different parts of the cliffs and chirp chirp. The dog would run, and in the last minute, decide which bird to advance on. Then the birds would flit away and the dog would brake last minute. I thought the dog was in danger, but a ranger said that the dog and birds have been playing this game daily for the last two years!

The timing gods were smiling upon me, because I was alone for 15 minutes, and as I turned to retreat down, I saw hoards of ferry-going tourists advancing up the hill.

I was pretty tired from two days of early departure, and after my hike I ate a picnic lunch and happened up a small beach, at which point I felt like I was in the poppy field from Oz, and my eyelids got verry heavy. It was pleasantly warm, but I put on my jacket mostly for the eye shade, and soon ZZZs were upon me.

Not a bad napping spot, eh?

I wasn't asleep for long before the ferry-goers caught up to me there and I was awakened by a flock of Germans and pod of Spaniards. "Fine, I'll go find a more secluded napping spot!" My, what a snob I'd become!

After a bit more successful shut-eye, I ventured around the island, mostly admiring the general splendor and piecing together the small-community feel from the scale of infrastructure.

The island's only gas station and recycling center.

The island's bank branch.

Typical traffic jam.

The flight back went without a hitch... just enough turbulence to remind you of the fragility of existence. Fortunately, there were some beautiful views to distract you from dwelling on that too long!