Surviving and Thriving in the Aran Islands

Biking the Aran Islands, to most people, would imply a lovely, carefree jaunt down the winding road of a picturesque Irish coast. And it'd be partially true, because to most people that's what the day entails. However, my past experiences bike riding have been short and disastrous, as my family, close friends, and entire India and Nepal travel study class can agree (there are several stories here, the most infamous being a short-lived bike tour of old Delhi involving crashing into a ceramics salesman and a moving truck). So it was kind of scary, to say the least.

The Aran Islands are situated a mere hour long ferry ride away from the edge of windswept Connemara, and were one of the first attractions in Ireland I truly got excited about when I first figured out I was coming to Galway and pulled up Google Maps to virtually explore my future surroundings. My mom and I remarked on how these beautiful natural treasures were so close, I could surely visit all three, and even several times! While that probably won't hapen at this point, since it’s taken a good full four months to just reach the largest, I was quite excited to finally be heading out to the jewels of our West-Irish coast. 

I went with three friends, one of whom would later remark that she originally believed I was exaggerating how bad my bike-skills really were...but I wasn't, and on the ferry ride over was hotly debating in my head if I should even attempt to ride, at the risk of ruining everyone else's day. The only real way to get around the Island in a day and see all of the important sites was either riding a bike, taking a bus tour for the same price, or else a pretty horse-drawn carriage ride for four times that amount. So the horses were a no, the bus sounded like a cop-out on such a beautiful day, and I would have been happy to walk, but also reluctant to miss out on the many beautiful sites of the Island that were unreachable by foot. 

Before my India trip, I made a point to practice riding around my neighborhood, was sort of successful, and was very vocal about the challenge and how I would surely rise to it when the time came. As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, it was basically a failure, so this time I didn't tell anyone back home about how I was going to try again, figuring it'd be just a personal decision and we'd see where it went. The circumstances here were a million times better, as well: instead of winding busy bumpy dirt roads, I was treated to a clear blue sky, wide concrete roads with plenty of warning if any other vehicles were coming towards you (I almost always dismounted in that case) and three encouraging close friends egging me on instead of stressed-out tour guides and angry vendors staring at my wobbly inching prowess. 

I did take one spectacular spill fairly early on that resulted in the ruination of my third pair of pants this week, many people stopping and staring and offering assistance, but after a somewhat-exasperated explanation of how to use the grippy brake, I managed to stay off the ground for the remainder of our six-hour ride. And, it was kind of fun, in an exhilarating I-might-die-today sort of way. We reached Dun Aengus, a remote stone fortress so old that the ancient Celtic myths tell stories about how it might have been formed by fairies, picnicked on the edge of a cliff overlooking the wide open ocean, made friends with a white horse who proceeded to spit an apple at us, and happened upon a group of sunbathing seals I originally thought were rocks. 

All in all, it was a fantastic day. I'm terribly sore now, having used muscles I forgot I possessed for far longer than was pleasant, have a lovely scab on my knee that might take a bit of time to heal, but feel empowered and honestly like a champion. I can't imagine the skills necessary for something like the Tour de France or even biking through a crowded city, but maybe one day I'll pick up cycling as a hobby for real. Even if not, it was a perfect continuation of stretching my limits and trying new things that come along with being in this beautiful country. Each time I took a spill or hastily hopped off to let a quizzical looking driver pass me safely, I kept in mind the philosophy of Ireland: "Sure, yer grand." We carry on.

For anything you're struggling over, I hope this story helps someone take heart, and if you don't want to take it from me, check out my favorite video of this kid, because it sure inspired me.