Discover yourself at Cliffs of Moher
As I navigate the winding swaths of asphalt and hairpin turns of the coastal roads leading to Ireland's Cliffs of Moher, my wife gently reminds me to slow down. After two hours of driving I can't help but to let the anticipation get the better of my gas pedal. I've been waiting for this since I was a kid.
We reach our destination and I throw the parking attendant a few euros and catch my first glimpse of the layout across the main road. It appeared to be a distant, daunting hike. But I am undeterred. As soon as we open the car doors it's apparent that the winds are ridiculously strong—cutting over the cliffs and barreling full-steam through the valley.
The Cliffs of Moher (Irish: Aillte an Mhothair) rest atop the peaks of the Burren Coast in County Clare and give onlookers an amazing 702-foot view of the Atlantic Ocean. I've never seen anything so spectacular in my life—and I've seen a lot of spectacular things. The Cliffs of Moher attract nearly a million visitors each year, and this chilly afternoon in March is no exception.
Visitors have the option of viewing the natural hardscapes of Moher by ferry—which offers a great view from sea level—or by hiking to either the North or South platforms. To get a natural feel of the cliffs, Tisha and I choose to experience it from above.
With a giggle, she quickly reminds me of my apparent fear of heights. I return her jab with a confused look, as if it's news to me that I don't particularly like heights. But to be clear, I'm not a fan of unsafe heights; i.e. standing on the ledge of my roof or climbing more than 30 ft. into a tree. Bridges, mountain tops, high-rise buildings…all good. At least that's what I tell myself.
The Visitor Centre at Cliffs of Moher is a world-class facility with below-average food, plenty of gift shops and a staff that is more than happy to engage in small-talk with a smile. But as we get closer to the cliffs, there's no time for gifts or small-talk. We are on a mission.
The uphill walk up to the North platform doesn't require a high level of physical skill, and the reward far outweighs the challenge. We get to the top and that's when time suddenly stands still. In those first moments, you're paralyzed by a landscape you've only seen on postcards. It's an extraordinary reminder that all of our problems and day-to-day concerns mean absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things. I've just proven to myself that the world is so much bigger than we are.
So, as I gaze out over the rock cliffs into an endless ocean of rolling blue waves that seem miles away, an empty feeling overwhelms me. It's a lesson in humility—a crash-course in understanding my place in the world. I recall an instance at work the week before when I was angry about a missed deadline and it dawns on me that this experience—this mind-blowing fascination with the sheer size and raw power of something so naturally beautiful—will probably change my life. It won't change who I am or what I do, but it certainly puts things into perspective. If nothing else, it's a chilling reminder that the world will continue to spin regardless of my efforts to control every little thing that happens in the tiny bubble I call my life. And when I finally reach that conclusion, the stupidity fades away and a devilish grin crawls across on my face. I realize that I'm okay with my station in the world, and that as long as places like the Cliffs of Moher exist there's no point in trying to be so important…because I'm not.
After a few moments, Tisha snaps me out of my selfishly poetic daydream and points me in the direction of O'Briens Tower, which sits atop the edge of the world, standing guard over the rocks that meet the ocean below.
We arrive at the stone tower and are quickly greeted by a gentlemen who's charging a dollar to grant visitors access to the top. He regales us about Sir Cornelius O'Brien, who built the tower in 1835 to impress young ladies with its one-of-a-kind views. As we stand at the top and look out into the waters I wonder if Tisha would be impressed if I had built it. A fascinating exercise of the imagination to say the least, but I digress.
After a couple hours of taking in all the inspiration and positive energy we can, we hike back down the steep staircase for shelter from the wind and a warm meal. But not before I prove to myself that I'm okay with unsafe heights. No, before leaving, I gently slide past a sign warning me not to go any further, side-step a few photographers and make my way to the edge. The wind is blowing hard and I wonder if it could blow me off the cliff. Of course it could, there's nothing to grab onto. The only thing keeping me alive at this point is gravity and balance. But I don't care—I'm a tiny meaningless spec at the mercy of Mother Nature and I can't honestly imagine a better place to fall to my death than the coast of Ireland.
Luckily, I survive.
After descending the steps we arrive at the Cliffs of Moher Visitor Experience. I learn that the cliffs were named after an old fort that once stood at Hag's Head, the southern-most viewpoint. On a clear day—which can be rare on the Burren Coast—visitors can see the Aran Islands in the distance and Twelve Pins mountain range to the north, which hover the countless valleys and endless meadows.
There is something about the untouched landscapes and historic structures in Ireland that will always be a part of those who experience it. Once you've seen it, you can never un-see it. As travelers, there are places in the world that have stamped themselves into our memories, and no matter how many photographs we take or blogs we write, those stamps can't be shared with anyone else. It's why we have such intimate relationships with our favorite places in the world, and why over time those experiences shape who we are.
I'm certain now that the biggest reason we enjoy these massive natural wonders is because it subconsciously lifts a weight from our souls. It reminds us that we live on a huge planet with billions of other people, within a universe that's expansive size outpaces our own imaginations. And somewhere deep within ourselves, we're okay with that.