Ireland: The Burren

There’s a saying in the Midwest that goes something like Don’t like the weather? Wait an hour. The same could be said for the Irish landscape, though I can’t imagine anyone not liking it. One of the most interesting things about our drive was how quickly and completely the landscape changed in a matter of miles. We went from rolling hills to mountains to rocky cliffs along the ocean back to rolling hills again in the span of a day. One of the most bizarre landscapes is a 10-square-mile area called “The Burren,” where the land is literally broken rock. Well technically it’s composed of Limestone pavements with crisscrossing cracks known as “grikes,” leaving isolated rocks called “clints.”

The clints formed a never-ending jigsaw puzzle of shapes and sizes that stretch to the sea. The very best part was that there were still sheep grazing. Sarah and I had a lot of fun climbing around and trying not to twist an ankle. How the sheep (who are, I can only assume, far less dexterous than myself?) manage to 1) eat while 2) not dying is one of those mysteries that will be popping into my head on many boring commutes to come.