Inis Uí Drisceoil

An adventure today - off I went in search of a holy well on Inis Uí Drisceoil or more simply said, Heir Island. The ferry journey is a very pleasant 5 minutes in a 12 seater boat with a handsome skipper. Heir Island is situated in Roaringwater Bay, it's  'ample bosom is inlaid with a great number of verdant islands,' according to the magnificently named Horatio Townsend in 1816. Heir Island is tiny,  2.5km long by 1.5 wide  but it boasts sandy beaches, huge cliffs, scenic cottages, a townland called Paris,  and a population of 26 - most of whom I encountered today and each one utterly charming and helpful. First off the postman who was travelling over offered to take me on his rounds to find someone who might know about the mass rock and holy well I was searching. We had to stop at several cottages to find the elusive farmer whose land it was on but eventually his tractor was spotted and he offered to take me himself. The postman left me at the farm and the farmer caught up by tractor. We proceeded though a field where there was the most colossal bull - a Limousin apparently - but it would be grand as although he (the bull) was new to the island he (the bull) knew the farmer. He (the farmer) did mutter somewhat ominously that he (the bull) didn't know me though. The mass rock was in an amazing site overlooking a sweep of sandy bay. The farmer then bid me good day and off I went, GPS on, in search of the well. I met two elderly chaps out for a constitutional and they looked in amazement when I mentioned a well but after a bit of a discussion they directed me to go and find another chap. He was out but an enticing boreen seemed to lead off in the right direction. I followed it and lo and behold just above sea level was the well - a spout of water issuing from the rocks. Well worth the search, eh - see extra. 

Other things of excitement I saw included a cottage painted bright turquoise, an incredibly skinny road bridge, a bythewindsailor (sort of jellyfish) blown up high out of the water onto the cliff, some fat mushrooms, two loud choughs,  a very white egret, a cowrie for my pocket and some rather artistic lobster pots. 

I had the ferry to myself on the way home, as the skipper was doing an extra trip to pick up the two school children that lived on the island. I felt a bit spaced out by so much tranquility and such a soporific atmosphere, gently washed by the sound of the sea and such fresh air.