Late for Dinner

At the risk of sounding like Rick Steves after a visit to Ireland, I believe Julia and I stumbled upon one of the best kept secrets of the Irish west coast- the tiny town of Doolan.
Many would know the famous Cliffs of Moher connected to Doolin (consequently the same used in the filming of the cliffs of insanity in the Princess Bride) but for some reason the town itself seemed small and untouched. It was made up of 3 hostels, 4 pubs, 1 chocolate shop and 1 gas station which also served as "the best grocery store in town". And it was totally charming.
Our original reason for being there was to see the cliffs and in doing so accomplish the one thing I most wanted to do in my life. I started to get the impression, however, that my picture of walking through miles and miles of fields of long grass until we came to the very edge of the country and a 700ft sheer drop would actually look more like taking a bus to a barrier with 7 million other people, looking over the edge and snapping the same picture that comes up whenever you google "Cliffs of Moher". I was prepared to be severly disappointed in the fulfillment of my life's dream.
Thankfully, one of the guys running the hostel we were at gave us the low down on the "back door" hike to the cliffs. He drew us a helpful map on notebook paper and included 1 gate to walk through, 1 gate to go around, 2 waterfalls to cross, a hill to surmount, and a village to pass through. He failed to mention however, that THIS WILL BE THE MOST AMAZING EXPERIENCE OF YOUR LIFE!
So, instead of a 15 min bus ride with 25000 of your closest tourist friends, we hiked for 3 hours along the edge of the shoreline as it rose from sea level to 700foot sheer face cliffs. Every view was more amazing than the last. The crest of every hill more breathtaking than the one before it. We walked through miles and miles of long grass usually inches from the very edge. Someone in the 1800s upon seeing the cliffs wrote that there was some sort of "strange intoxication" one felt looking over the rim and I can still feel that when I picture the spot that Julia and I stopped to eat our lunch. We crested a small hill, looked over the water and 300ft rock wall to our left and agreed it was the ideal spot for our picnic. Just in case, I ran up the next small hill and crept to the edge. It was liking slowly pulling back a curtain on a blindingly gorgeous day or maybe that scene from Star Wars when you look down from Anakin's apartment and see space shuttles cross crossing for miles below you in space.
Sea gulls looked liked cotton balls on the lowest rock ledges and hundreds of them calling to each other bounced and echoed all around to create a continous chorus. The rush and thrill of taking in such beauty and such danger is exactly what I would call strangely intoxicating. Julia remarked that she knew there would be days ahead when she would wish she was in that moment and place again and I agreed.

Sitting in a coffee shop on the coast overlooking the Irish Sea, I'm reading The Hobbit and loved this passage as it describes Bilbo Baggins response to Gandalf when he tells him how hard it is to find someone to share an adventure with: "I should think so-in these parts! We are plain quiet folk and I have no use for adventures. Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner! I can't think what anybody sees in them."
I find this view of adventures not at all in line with my own, but there is something to be said about the comfort of your own home. Thing is, I never consider what I love about my own home until I'm on an adventure away from it.