...Over the Cliffs

Made it!  Sort of.

I awoke multiple times the night before to the sound of gale force winds outside.  I knew I was going to attempt the hike either way, but was praying that it would die down enough to get out of Doolin.
Very thankfully, the wind and rain slowed enough for me to begin the trek up after my second breakfast, hobbit-style.

I paced myself under the weight of my pack, hearing the voices of Steph and Syd, my uber-athletic friends who coached me prior to leaving the states about climbing.  There were very few people making the hike on this particular day, which I was grateful for, not realizing at the time that they knew better than to try when such brutal storms were expected.  My heart quickly filled up with awe, and my quads (and glutes, and traps) slowly with lactic acid.  It was f-ing glorious.  

I think they knew it was coming

I have to be honest, I had more fun those first 3 hours than I have in ages.  It is possibly the most fantastic, badass thing I've ever done.  Upon reaching the summit, I began to encounter people advising me in multiple languages to turn around, and not attempt any further distance with my pack, as the wind was unsafe.  As if on cue, my little self experienced the scariest 5 seconds of my life, at a particularly precarious point, with no room for error.  As the wind lifted me and my pack right from the ground, I threw myself towards the mud pit under the barbed wire on my left, to avoid certain death on my right.  Holy shit.  I wasn't able to stand for several minutes, as the wind was literally holding me down under the weight of my pack.

I did continue on past the summit, only because I couldn't head down in what was now a hella storm.  I was unable to walk more than a few feet at a time without being pushed back by the wind, and rain, and at this point, horizontal gravel wailing me in the face.  Right around this point, I crossed paths with two generous American girls who offered me a ride, which I initially hesitated to accept because it meant I failed.  Then I realized I was being a prideful dumbass, and gratefully accepted.

I recovered with several hours of hot tea and red wine with my favorite Aussie, followed by Irish ballads sung by the half dozen locals in the pub next door.  Made me want to cry when I was there, and kind of still does now.  Tonight I'm watching (studying?) a fellow silently emulate 80s Tina Turner that he's watching on the tv.  I'm surrounded by guys who have been out all day surfing, and are cooking themselves surprisingly healthy dinners.  And for tonight, that's enough adventure for me.

PS. If REI was a man, I'm pretty sure I'd marry him.