Eric and I have known for the past year that we would be returning to Ireland, to walk the Donegal Way with Tailor-Made Tours. It wasn’t until recently that we decided to make the trip a little longer. Having spent quite a bit for our trip to Japan and knowing we have another long trip ahead of us, we needed a way to stretch the budget. So we looked on HelpX, a website that matches people willing to work with hosts who offer food and lodging in exchange for a few hours of work each day.
Which is how we found Granuaile House (pronounced Grawn-you-wale) on Clare Island and how we discovered what may be our new favorite way to travel. While I realize most people would scoff at the idea of doing manual labor on vacation, I found it incredibly rewarding and kept a journal each day so that you can get an idea as to why Eric and I loved it so much.
The Long Travel Day
Our plane is delayed so we spend 7 hours at the Boston airport, followed by an overnight flight to Dublin, then a bus to the train station where we wait for 2 hours before the next train for Westport. At the train station, we people watch and I befriend some birds.
The train ride is quiet and relaxing, a much needed respite from all the work it took to get here. Small towns break up the monotony of rolling green fields. A pharmaceutical rep taps away at his computer across from me, every now and then looking up to smile and let us know that he’s still human. A young boy with thick Harry Potter-like glasses entertains his mom with stories that only a young imagination could create. I should be exhausted and grumpy at this point on our journey, but I am just so grateful to be back in Ireland. This is only our second time in the country, but it feels like home.
Exiting the tiny train station at Westport, we stop at a supermarket for food, knowing that once we reach our B&B we will be too tired to go back out and find dinner. Our hostess greets us with that understanding look of someone well versed in welcoming weary travelers, quickly chatting about what time we want breakfast the following morning and then leaving us to our hot cuppa and a much needed shower and nap.
Exploring Westport Ireland
Over breakfast we visit with the B&B owner who is shocked and curious as to why we would be heading to Clare Island. We tell her and I can see that she still doesn’t quite understand the appeal, but she seems intrigued by the HelpX concept.
Westport is a lovely town, nestled on the edge of Clew Bay, an inlet of the Atlantic Ocean on Ireland’s west coast. It’s a designated heritage town, one of only a few planned towns in Ireland. We enjoy walking the tree-lined promenade along the banks of the Carrowbeg River and doing a bit of shopping.
Meeting the McCabe Family
When we arrive on Clare Island, the ruins of Grace O’Malley’s Castle are immediately to our left and Granuaile House is to our right. The inn is perched above a small beach surrounded by soft green hills. I see a tall hill slightly off to the left and back on the mainland we can see one of Ireland’s famous mountains, Croagh Patrick.
Our hosts, Mary and Bernard, greet us as we walk through the door. Mary, lets us choose the room that we want and then proceeds to offer me a hot water bottle “to keep me warm and toasty,” unknowing that I have just started my period and this is the best gift anyone could offer. She then proceeds to tell us that she has hot soup that Bernard has made and fresh bread. I’ve died and gone to heaven.
Granuaile House has been in Bernard’s family for over a century. The house itself dates back to 1901. Bernard never intended to take over the family business but when his brother passed away it was up to him to continue the family legacy. This is an age-old story, one which is being repeated with the eldest son Rory who has recently taken over running the inn for his parents.
Mary keeps us supplied with coffee and chocolates, left over from Easter festivities. She tells us her children call her “a feeder” and that she can’t help herself. It’s what she does, she feeds people. I’m reminded of Sylvia who we stayed with in Montenegro, they have much in common.
There is so much more to say about the McCabe family and Clare Island, but in the interest of brevity I’ll just recommend you read this article in The Irish Times.
Introduction to Clare Island
Clare Island (besides having a fantastic name) is famous for being the stronghold of and final resting place of Gráinne ni Mhaille. We know her as Grace O’Malley, the fierce female pirate queen of Ireland. For nearly 40 years, Gráinne harassed merchant ships along Ireland’s western coastline, exacting tolls and instilling fear and respect. She is buried at Clare Island Abbey and her presence is still felt on the island, 4 centuries later.
This beautiful place is calling to us, and even though we are travel weary, Eric and I head out for our first walk in the afternoon and we walk again after dinner. The afternoon walk is full of sunshine, bright green grass and newborn baby lambs. The evening walk is on fire with a bright orange sunset and a predictable Irish raincloud.
Getting to work
The honeymoon is over and we are put to work, but only after a full pot of coffee and plenty of food in our belly. God bless Mary, she has a plate full of fruit, yogurt, two choices of muesli and perfectly poached eggs on toast. No heavy Irish breakfast here! Our first task is the entry portico, scraping flaking paint and wiping down the walls and baseboards. Prep work so that Mary can give it a fresh coat of paint.
We then head into the living room to give it a good deep clean. This is the old part of the inn so the walls are stone, which means part of our task is using wire brushes to remove calcium deposits from the stone. This is followed with a softer brush and then a wipe down with a towel. It’s quite a process and I now appreciate all of the old inns we’ve visited that have these stone walls.
Of course we take several breaks in between, Mary makes sure of that, enticing us with coffee and a hearty lunch. We have Bernard’s vegetable soup with grilled cheese ham and pesto sandwiches, as well as a salad and coleslaw. I take a nap that afternoon while Eric rambles.
We meet up for dinner that evening with the family. Tonight we get to visit with Alice (Niall McCabe’s partner). Alice is originally from France and is now living here on the island in a geodesic dome while Niall is touring in Canada as a musician and visiting his children. Alice runs Clare Island Oven, a cafe across the street. Eric and I love hearing her talk about her experiences here on the island as a non-islander. Daughter Sarah pops in for a visit with baby Sadie. I’m mesmerized by this little girl’s eyes, she has the biggest bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Sarah says she is cranky today because she had her shots, but she looks perfectly content to me.
At some point we talk religion, which is when we learn that they don’t have a regular priest on the island so Mary and others often lead services on Sunday. Blessed Communion arrives by ferry. Bernard and Mary tell the common story we hear throughout our travels, that young people are no longer going to church. She doesn’t seem shocked to hear that we’re in that category and she’s very open-minded as to why so many of us feel we have no place within the Church.
After our philosophical discussions, Mary scampers off so she can watch her soaps, the one guilty pleasure she seems to afford herself after a long day of feeding and serving her family. We go for an evening stroll.
Feeling useful
The next day we help Rory and Alice clean out the patio and garden area so that Mary and Bernard have a nice place to escape during the busy summer season. Rory apologizes for the weather, it is misting and the sun just doesn’t want to come out, but we love it! There is nothing better than feeling the salt spray on my face as I work. We’re moving around too much for me to get cold, and there’s always a hot cup of coffee waiting for me inside.
Other days we paint. The old buildings on Clare Island need a fresh coat of paint yearly, as wind and damp play havoc with exterior walls. We revarnish outdoor furniture and window trim. Mary and I begin to repaint her entryway, only to realize it’s not the original color she thought it was. She doesn’t seem to mind. The act of painting is soothing to her and we fall into a quiet rhythm of dip, brush, brush.
Mary shares her experience of walking the Camino a few years ago. She’s excited about walking it again, this time she will be doing the Portuguese Way. We swap tips about how to prevent blisters and I tell her about pee funnels and toe sock liners.
Feeling useful, knowing I’m doing something to bring joy to the kind people who have invited us into their home — this is what makes a HelpX so special. I don’t feel like a tourist. I feel like I’m visiting friends and we just popped in to help with a project. There’s a camaraderie in working together that you don’t get as a paid guest, the relationship is refreshingly different.
That afternoon, we walk to the lighthouse. We won’t actually get to visit the lighthouse since it is now privately owned, and it’s a long walk through a barren landscape, but I love it! We take another walk at night, shortly after visiting with some musicians who are playing at the local pub/community center. Our original intent was to visit the pub and listen, but it’s too crowded and the open night sky and empty streets are calling to us.
Time to relax
It’s Saturday. Mary and Bernard go to church in the morning and for lunch she cooks us boxty, traditional potato cake. Made from raw potato peels, she fries it in a skillet with some butter, then adds more butter and serves it with eggs and ham. Later that afternoon, I pop over to Alice’s cafe for a latte and lemon blueberry scone, which taste like her personality — warm and zesty.
Everyone is out today, the sun is shining and it’s the first chance the kids have had to swim this year. One of the McCabes has a SUP board and there are at least 6 children piled on top of it, gleefully squealing. I see two young girls exercising a horse in the ocean. There’s a lobsterman fixing his traps. This is the heart of the island, where sun and sea are all one needs for a day of simple pleasures.
Eric is cooking dinner today. Mary and Bernard went to the mainland on Thursday for Bernard’s medical appointment. They bought the ingredients Eric needs to make Moroccan lamb stew and lemon squares. He’s a wee nervous cooking in someone else’s kitchen but I know he enjoys it. Watching him with Mary in her kitchen makes my throat catch. Both recently lost their mothers to cancer and I don’t know if she realizes how much her mothering is helping Eric through his grief.
Walking up Knockmore "Hill"
At Mary’s request, Bernard drives us to a starting point to begin our walk today up Knockmore. He has been giving us a hard time about not walking from town, making it sound like we’re missing out on a right of passage, but I know better. We will walk 9 miles up and over Knockmore, which is a hill that feels a lot like a mountain, and I see no point in adding more miles to that simply for bragging rights.
It’s a glorious day, full of sunshine, cerulean skies and impressive views. We can see all of Clare Island and the surrounding islands of Achill, Inishturk, Inishbofin and others. Even the peak of Croagh Patrick is visible today.
We walk through several boggy areas and quickly learn how to spot the spongy yellow sections to avoid. My wet toes can attest to how quickly the wet moss seeps in through your boots if you stand still in one place too long.
At the top of the hill we meet up with Sean O’Grady and a woman whose name I can’t remember. There are no trails here so we ask them which way we should go down. They point in two directions, offering a vague “that way or that way.” Apparently we choose the more complicated route, heading downhill towards a signal tower. We are following tire treads through boggy pasture so it seems like a good plan, but we quickly find ourselves at an impasse. We can see the road we need to reach but there’s a steep drop and nowhere in sight looks passable. So we backtrack about half a mile where the hill levels out enough for us to descend.
We meet up with O’Grady again as we are walking the road back into town. He is now on a four-wheeler with his dog chilling out in the back. Thus commences a 30 minute conversation in which we learn about Sean O’Grady’s horses, famine fields and the entire history of Clare Island. This is one happy farmer, the pride gushes out of him as he speaks about his land and the work that doesn’t feel like work. He tells us of places he’s visited, including America, but it’s easy to discern that his happy place is here on the island.
We meet two more McCabe sons this evening. Ian pops in the kitchen for a quick introduction and then he’s gone again. Charlie joins us for dinner and we have a nice long chat with him. His fiendish looking dog Hades looks like a hell hound from mythology but she’s a total softie who plunges quickly for a belly rub. Sarah and her husband Mike join us for dinner as well, and of course baby Sadie, who Mary refuses to put down even though it means her dinner will get cold. We begin our meal seriously doubting Mary’s culinary choices, she has served chicken curry with chips and bananas, but she wins us over with this odd combination.
Our last day helping the McCabe family is a much slower day. Bernard spends the morning baking scones and bread, Mary is painting in the entryway, I re-varnish windows in the parlor and Eric continues to clear out the patio. We say goodbye to Charlie and Hades as they head to the mainland.
Rory gives us a quick tour of his house that he has been building for the past 7 years. What he has so far is beautiful, a black metal house in the style you would see in Iceland or Faroe Islands, with perfectly placed windows overlooking Clew Bay and Crough Patrick. He’s using reclaimed wood, doors and windows and trying to be as environmentally conscious in his building as possible, which is impressive considering how challenging it is to build on an island.
As he talks about his experience building the house, Rory says something that really strikes me. He says it’s not about the outcome, it’s the process itself that he enjoys, the skills that he learns while doing it. Rory is considered the philosopher of the family and this is just one of several glimpses we have during our short time in which he shows a profound sense of self and the type of discomfiting wisdom that seems to see right through you. His curiosity and ability to sift through complicated issues to identify truths make him one of the most fascinating people I’ve ever met. Like any good philosopher, Rory challenges us to question why we think and act the way we do. He is a wanderer at his core, just like Eric and I and so many other curious souls.
We take one last walk before leaving Clare Island. It’s a short loop from town to an abandoned pre-famine homestead. Ireland’s Great Famine occurred nearly 180 years ago but it is still very much present in modern memory. You can sense the loss when walking the deserted famine fields, once full of potatoes and now simply a geological formation of raised grass beds.
We depart Clare Island, riding in a small van with school kids going to the mainland. Our driver stops for cows to cross the road and he’s listening to the Co. Mayo radio station naming every person who has died and offering details of funeral arrangements. We were only on the island for 10 days but I can tell it has already changed me. With every trip, Eric and I expand our view of the world and of ourselves within this world. That knowledge alters us, so much so that when we return home we feel temporarily displaced. In a room full of family and familiar objects, I barely recognize myself.
We’re not headed home just yet, however. Follow along as we head north to the beautiful County Donegal.
