Many gateways to the Burren
DID you know West Clare was once a tropical sea? The thought is like a line of poetry, washing around my brain as we hit Black Head. Three hundred and fifty million years ago, the Burren’s limestone began to form when sediments and sea creatures floated down to the sea floor. Back then, the Wild Atlantic Way lay 10-degrees south of the equator. It would take millions of years of tectonic shifting, of gouging and poking by ice and rain, to turn it into the shattered landscape unfolding before us today.
I pull in at a lay-by with the Aran Islands visible offshore. With kids aged eight and four, you only ever get 10-15 seconds of Dad-wisdom before the eyes glaze over. I gather my thoughts, searching for the words to describe the specialness of it all. “Try and remember it,” is the best I can do.
There are several gateways to the Burren (Ballyvaughan, Corrofin and Kilfanora among them), but the one we push open sits on a farm in Clonashee. The Burren Nature Sanctuary (bns.ie; children €10, adults free) is a genius reboot of this undulating old farmland, with an adventure playground, indoor soft play area, cafe and nature walk all combining in a brilliant afternoon out. It’s barely a year old, so everything feels snappy, right down to the béiliní (little bites) on the café menu.
After putting the playgrounds through their paces, we set out to examine the wildflowers and butterflies speckled about the rocks. May and June are the height of wildflower season, and the names are just as colourful as the flowers: quaking grass, autumn ladies’ tresses, Irish eye-bright, kidney vetch, hoary rock-rose and big pimpernel among them.
But there’s more than we bargained for on the nature walk — including a little paper bag to feed animals like Norman the Micro Pig, and a fairy trail through an enchanted little patch of forest, featuring several tiny doorways leading into the rocks.
Clonashee, it turns out, means ‘meadow of the faeries’.
One of the Burren’s big surprises is the sheer depth and diversity of food produced, sold and served in the area. Karstic terrain doesn’t sound very fertile, but a quick peak at the Burren Food Trail (burrenecotourism.com) tells a different story.
Driving past the Flaggy Shore, we find a little ice-cream café (linnalla.ie) at the ends of the earth. Inside, Bríd Fahy is dishing up scoops of yumminess made from her cows’ milk and the odd foraged flavour — including gorse (“I call it Irish coconut,” she says).
Not far away, at the foothills of the mountains near Oughtmama, we park by an old stone cottage with pink shutters. Granny’s Coffee House (hazelmountainchoclates.com) is only the beginning of the offerings here. The tiny cottage industry also includes a bakery, guided walks in the landscape, and a boutique chocolate factory.
“This is the only stone-ground chocolate being made in Ireland,” Kasha Connolly tells us, breaking off a chip of raspberry-speckled milk chocolate for us to taste.
You’ve heard of farm to fork? Well this is bean to bar, with cocoa beans ground for two days in a little machine that churns just 30 bars every 48 hours. The results are flavoured with everything from local juniper berries to redcurrants and flecks of nettle.
The Irish love their milk chocolate, Kasha concedes (she is Polish, but learned the trade of the chocolatier in Belgium). Slowly an appreciation of the darker stuff is coming — much as it did with coffee or wine.
Her bars are pricey at €4.50, but heaven knows the love and flavour and time that have gone into each one (not to mention the exquisite wrapping). After our trip to Hazel Mountain I’ll never see a plain old Dairy Milk in quite the same way again.
Back in the 1980s, Pete Hynes was almost alone in surfing Fanore.
“Every time I went out, someone would stop me to ask what I was doing. Locals, tourists, gardaí, everyone. You literally couldn’t find someone to surf with.”
How times have changed! Today, West Clare is one of the top destinations in Ireland for surfers of all abilities. Even so, Fanore is special. Its oompa-loompa-orange sands get the same swells as Lahinch, but its waves are nowhere near as congested.
We join Pete for a lesson, and he makes an absolute blast of it. Rosa (eight) is riding on her knees after a half-hour or so, and even Sam (four) tries both body-boarding
“I wiped-out,” he says, spitting salty water from his lips.
Pete’s Aloha Surf School (surfschool.tv) runs two-hour surf lessons with wetsuits, boards and instruction at €35pp for adults and €30pp for kids, but experienced surfers can just rent boards, and people who don’t fancy wiping out can hit the waves without them.
That’s what we did the following day — body-surfing, goofing about, spotting jellyfish. Black clouds rolled in, but by then we didn’t care. We leaped about like buck eejits, singing ‘I’m swimming in the rain’, before falling over into that lovely orange mush.
Other showcaves may be bigger and more varied, but they can’t match the extraordinary reveal at the heart of Doolin Cave (doolincave.ie; €15/€8).
After descending through a manmade shaft (127 steps, Rosa counts), we follow our guide through the cave system towards the main chamber. He flicks the lights on, and we’re greeted by the sight of the Northern Hemisphere’s largest stalactite.
It’s an extraordinary formation — 10 tonnes in weight, millions of years in the making, and now hanging before us like a calcite chandelier. When cavers first discovered it, we’re told, they spoke in whispers for fear their voices would dislodge it.
Back on the surface, John and Helen Browne — who have developed the site into the eco-attraction of today — lead us around their nature walk. Sam is especially delighted to reach into the hen’s coop and pluck out a warm, freshly-laid egg.
By the time we arrive at Gregan’s Castle, a charming country house hotel squirreled away beneath Corkscrew Hill, we are like flotsam thrown up by the Atlantic. Our clothes are mucky, our hair is drenched, and our lips taste of salt. Blurgh...
Half an hour later, we are relaxing in a tastefully furnished room, freshly-showered, supping cappuccinos (or babycinos, as the case may be) and preparing ourselves for a loll by a glowing fire before dinner in one of Ireland’s best hotel restaurants.
The last time I ate here, Mickael Viljanen (of The Greenhouse in Dublin) was head chef and the food was startling. This time it’s David Hurley and, if anything, the experience has improved. Excellent local ingredients, deft combinations of flavour and texture and the painterly arrangements of dishes like Doonbeg crabmeat with radishes, cucumber and dill are every bit as memorable as the wildflowers splashed about outside.
Dinner at Gregan’s costs €69pp, but if you’re looking for country house comforts without the Blue Book price tag, I’d heartily recommend Sheedy’s Hotel in Lisdoonvarna.
Hospitality runs in Martina and John Sheedy’s veins, and they combine a warm welcome with comfortable rooms just a stone’s throw from the town centre. Martina is at the door to greet us, there are cookies in Kilner jars in the room, and her eight-year-old-daughter Roisín tips us off about a cool playground hidden around the corner.
Meanwhile, John is in the kitchen, knocking out dishes like Garrihy’s crab claws in garlic and parsley cream (€12.50), or a rack of Burren lamb (€27.50) rolled in herbs, nuts and spices in Sheedy’s small but elegant little restaurant. It’s a lovely package.
Sheedy’s Hotel (sheedys.com) has two nights’ B&B with one a la carte dinner and entry for two to the cliffs of Moher on special from €149pps.
Gregan’s Castle (gregans.ie) has two nights’ B&B with one dinner and a half-day Burren walk and farm visit with local guide Marie McGauran from €299pps.
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