Road Trip

Sad mum diary

Guess what? Turns out I have a fan base – small, yet loyal, and urging me to write more. There must also be a dedicated bot out there reading this blog as my inbox is regularly assaulted with “accept this comment” emails. With excitement, I open the email eager to see that a reader has engaged with my content, only to read: “Try your luck! Just remember to keep it fun, don’t chase your losses.”

Unsure how this comment relates to travelling and/or motherhood, I curse the spam gods.

We’re back in Adelaide, Méabh and I. It wasn’t really an adjustment returning to the City of Churches. After 6 months away, you’d think it would be. However, what I realised while I was away was how much I’d been running from. I used travel as a means of escape, hoping my problems wouldn’t follow me.

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Ditching the Crowds: Our Scenic Hike Along the Cliffs of Moher

We wind down the narrow, serpentine roads, hedgerows hugging each side – the west of Ireland showcasing its stunning scenery. As we pass through charming little towns, I know we’re not in Kansas anymore.

“Hey Mum, look, a castle!” says Méabh, as if from a fairytale – Ireland’s rolling green hills, stone walls, and castles seem plucked from a storybook.

Through Kinvara, Lahinch, and Lisdoonvarna (feels like a song, doesn’t it?) — all towns along the Wild Atlantic Way — we arrive safely in Doolin. Sustained by tourism and agriculture, Doolin is the gateway to the Cliffs of Moher, the Burren, and the Aran Islands. Though relatively small, it doesn’t lack charm.

We meet Pat Sweeney at The Doolin Inn at 10 a.m. He later told me he was 10 minutes late the previous day because one of his cows was giving birth — not your standard tour guide. A local farmer by trade, a jovial tour guide by day.

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