CULTURE | ARAN ISLANDS
hree vast, fossilised sea creatures rise up from the murky, wave-crested waters off the coast of Galway: the Aran Islands hold a grip on our psyche far out of proportion to their size. Arriving by open-decked ferry or tiny Cessna plane is an almost ritualistic experience. Most visitors are aware of the potency of the traditional culture that exists here: the rich language heritage and the dramatic archaeological remains, but what strikes one first is the light. The islands shimmer with a luminosity that pours across the sparse, stark land, unimpeded by trees, buildings or hills. On even the darkest days, light seeps through the clouds, then bounces back up from the sea, the swathes of bright limestone slabs and the stone walls that cobweb the entire crocodileskin land. The pigments are almost too colour-saturated, like being caught inside a backlit photo slide. Standing on the pier, or the air strip, one stares out at these pterodactyl beasts, bewildered by their stony strangeness. Of the three Aran Islands, Inishmore (Inis Mór, meaning large island) is the largest; Inisheer (Inis Oírr, meaning east island), the smallest; and Inishmaan (Inis Meáin, meaning middle island), is the quietest and least sullied by modernity. Ideally, one should hop between all three to get a sense of their different characters, but most people start off in Kilronan, the main village on Inishmore. The first challenge here – as far as I’m concerned – is to arrange transport and get out of this garish and hectic spot fast. There are three options: a three-hour minibus tour
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JULY 2014
Island bound, our man Manchán Magan and, this photograph, the stony strangeness of the Aran Islands.