
Out on Aran
We rented a small chalet in "Oatquarter," which
is near the very middle of the 17 km long island, Inis
Mór. Out on Aran, one almost looses a sense of time
except for the increasing awareness of the unfolding
cycles of nature that occur all around one. The waves
break against the shoreline, receding across the
disrupted surface of the limestone and flowing back into
the sea, the full moon, growing bigger in the night sky,
pulling and pushing the oceans into higher and lower
states.

During our first week there was a spectacular lightening
storm that crossed from the south west of the island. The
following day we went down to the north shore, just below
our chalet, to watch the large waves as they curled
around the top of the island and rolled in towards us.
The waves were like a mass of animals with fiery mains
that blew back against the oncoming wind. The resulting
fine misty spray appeared like fire on the tops of the
waves, sending a column of smoke into the air.

It was an elemental image of the strength of the sea, as
the waves come crashing down on the shore. Several big
waves rolled in at once, and then, there was a little
lull before the next group unleashed their mighty energy
on the rocks. After the first week of unsettled skies and
sea, we experienced two weeks of completely unobstructed
skies, intense sun light and soft morning mists that
burned away into afternoon heat. The natural limestone
pavement that covers the island reflected the light and
there was a bright glare, so then the blue expansive of
ocean was a soothing refuge for the eyes. 
A shower of rain transformed this in a moment and the
limestone rock quickly turned to a deep glistening
grey-blue, and for a short time the landscape was
shrouded by a covering of water that soaked up the
sunlight. At such times, one is completely aware of the
process of change in the landscape. It was only in the
final days that the haze burned away and revealed the
existence of a mainland. For much of the month, the haze
had obscured the mainland, so it was possible to feel a
complete sense of wonderful isolation from everything.
The mainland becomes a concept that is banished from the
mind! The regular departure of the ferry was a sole
reminder, but as it disappeared into nothingness, I felt
that the main land was very far off indeed.

These islands were created when this part of the world
was submerged below sea level at the equator 250 million
years ago. The debris of sea life combined with calcium
and carbon to be later consolidated into limestone. Later
tectonic movements raised the land above the ocean and it
began to assume its present form over millions of years
of erosion. As the island is composed of many different
layers of limestone, sediment at different times, one can
observe a process of erosion that is unique. The
different layers, which are separated by shale, are
eroded at different rates, leaving large terraces of
limestone exposed to the elements and upper layers that
are pealed away by a weathering process. The rugged
limestone surface of Inis Mór is covered with a system
of vertical parallel fissures that are the result of
splits in the rock caused by tectonic movements. They are
continually cut deeper by rain water, and sometimes the
horizontal cross sections, which are at right angles to
the fissures, break away to create what is called a
"Karstic" landscape.

This makes the terrain difficult to navigate, as there
are a lot of holes and sharp protrusions all over the
limestone surface. On the lower sea terraces the effect
is different, as the sea has a more smoothing effect on
the limestone pavement. In fact these layers were once
better preserved with a coating of clay and shale, and
now one can observe an undulating expanse of rock with
smooth curves and bowl shaped rock pools. This mamillated
surface is one of the most interesting erosion effects
that demonstrate a time when the ground was above sea
level, and a different layer of matter was deposited on
the surface. At a later period this rock was again
submerged under the seas and another layer of limestone
was sedimented above. It is on these lower sea terraces
that the bands of shale are best observed.

At the bottom of such a limestone layer, close to where
it meets the shale, there is a very high density of
fossil shells. One of the most interesting of the sea
terraces leads towards the famous "worm hole"
(a huge rectangular shape formed by natural erosion).
Beyond the worm hole there is outcrop of rock that juts
out into the sea, and from this low point one can look up
at the cliffs stretching away to the west. It is here
that I noticed the sculptural disposition of the land and
the way that the layers can be traced all the way along
the cliffs from right to left, making a sort of dip down
into the sea, as the eye travels further westerly. When I
looked east from this point, I saw the shoulder of the
hill rising to the highest point on the island I thought
that it looked like a massive stranded flat topped box,
slightly inclined to one side.

It is really enjoyable to walk along the coast, always
sticking to the shore when possible, and exploring as
many of the terraces that it is possible to get down to.
At low tide they become more accessible and many of the
interesting rock pools are revealed. The sun light is
caught in these translucent bowls, illuminating the rich
colours of a marine environment. The south coast is
made up of cliffs, as the different layers (that tilt 15
degrees to the south) and all reach an abrupt end. On the
north side of the island there is a series of escarpments
that are much more gradual, as the landscape drops down
gently to the shoreline. Along the north ridges and
escarpments humans have made their habitations. The shore
is slightly more difficult to traverse by foot because of
the numerous storm beaches made up of boulders that are
sometimes rounded into smaller beach cobbles. In the
middle of the island is a little beach, which forms an
inlet, looking across at the
mountains in Connemara.

It is on the more exposed south coast that it is possible
to find solitude away from other human beings. The
erosion of the sea has made inroads into the island. At
the east and west ends of the island are storm beaches
made from huge boulders that were once torn out of the
cliffs by savage winter storms and hurled upwards onto
the limestone terrace. They are like stranded objects
that are in time broken down into smaller objects and
sculptured by nature. On the higher cliffs this effect is
visible only at low tide, as the boulders sit pristinely
at the bottom of the cliffs. It is as if they were
discarded by some passing giant who picked away at the
cliffs. The most magical of all places on Aran is
"Bun gabhla," where the island ends in a great
desert of limestone that looks out on two small
uninhabited islands and a lighthouse. The road curves
along the mountainside past the very last vestiges of
humanity, on to an area where the road appears to be
engulfed by a surrounding pavement of naked stone on both
sides. At the end, this pathway disappears down into the
waves on a slip that is used to launch fishermen's boats
into water.
The surface of the island conveys history, in much the
same manner as the lines on the human face tell a story
of a person. This history is much older and covers a much
greater expanse of time. In Aran, there are two processes
at work: this natural erosion and also the profound
effect of the human beings. The island is criss-crossed
by an elaborate network of stone walls that are a
powerful physical representation of the effect of people
on the natural landscape.

While the island has probably been inhabited since 2500
BC, this is only a blip in history. The sculptural sense
of the place is the history of change. This occurs too
slowly for most people to care about. On Aran we are
often reminded not only of the history of the people but
also the changes wrought in the natural landscape. It is
interesting to observe the fossils and realise how
infinitesimal and unimportant the human being is.

Another aspect is the
granite erratics that were deposited and stranded by the
last ice age,
and which tell yet another part of vast natural history
of the island.
These large mounds of rock are like huge static
sculptures that are set
in the landscape in a rather alien way, looking as if
they were dropped
from the sky. This alters the sense of passing time, and
a whole day can
become just a short walk to the cliff and back. It was in
this way that
we spent an entire month observing rocks, watching the
sea and taking
photos.

© March 2003, Rory Braddell.
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