The Aran Islands rest on the western shore of Ireland off of Galway. A large group of us trekked there for the weekend.
We caught the only ferry leaving for the Aran Islands that day because the weather was going to turn sour. The small boat rocketed up and down the massive waves as we went against them. No ferry experience has been quite like it ever since. We all hurt afterwards.
The fort that sat at the far end of the island literally stopped at the edge of a sheer cliff. The fierce wind blew at us as we scaled it. At the top, beyond an ancient rock wall and a gate, a flat meadow sprawled before us to the cliff side — a sheer drop into the Atlantic Ocean. A fort used to stand here, guarding against the invading English and Spanish.
I climbed all the way to the edge, got on my stomach, and stared down into the beautiful crashing waves, barely able to hear my own voice because of the loud wind and waves. Standing on the cliffs of Inismor truly felt like the edge of the world.
That day we also found a set of massive rock walls — clearly once part of a fortress or tower of sorts — and we climbed on top of the circular walls. Running in that photo is Renee in the early dusk, on top of one of the walls.