In search of the ilusives true Aran Island sweater Joyce and I caught the ferry to Inishmore, the largest of the Aran Islands. It was a chilly brisk October day in northern Ireland, but the weather never held us back from anything Joyce wanted to do. The ferry ride was about 40 minutes and as we pulled into port we noticed a small group of older men on the dock who were pointing at the ship and pointing at the few passenger waiting to disembark.
When we got off the ship a night elderly gent appraoched us, introducing himself as Mr. Johnso, and said that he was going to take us out to fort Dun Aonghasa. Some famous ancient place on the western side of the island. As always we had no notion of the sights on the island and were just trying to find the nearest pub for a drink, and when he heard this he loked sad and sorrowful, and we left it at that(not knowing that we were his drinking money for the day and the food for his horse also).
Wandering about for all of 20-25 minutes we finally found a nice looking local pub named Tigh Joe Mac. We went in and there was Mr Johnson at the bar having a morning pint. After settling in with our drinks for a few secs Joyce approached Mr Johnson and asked if it was still possible for the trap ride out to the fort. He beamed and said as soon as I finish this pint we can leave, and so we did.
He was a fountain of knowledge, being born and raised on the island, and talked all the way to the 1/2 way pub where we had to rest his horse and, oh by the way, have a couple of pints. Onward and forward we went to the fort which was an old ruins standing on a tall bluff overlooking the Atlantic ocean. The view was spectacular and almost worth the hour and a half ride there. We roamed around for a little while and when we felt the horse was rested enough we found Mr Johnson and headed back. Halfway to the pub so the horse could rest up for our trek back, a couple more pints, and a chat about the Aran Island sweaters, and then off we went. Nearing Kilronan Mr Johnson took a different road going back and suddenly halted in front of a cute little cottage where he said we could find real sweaters.
Once inside we found 2 rooms full of hand knit Aran sweaters. Each pile had a different pattern and label. The kindly woman explained that each pattern was knitted to identify the family of the sailor who wore the sweater, sometimes the only way to identify the wearer. After looking at every weater Joyce made her selection and we were surprised that it only cost 45 pounds Irish(about $ 53.00 american).
Back to Tigh Joe Mac’s pub for a late lunch with Mr Johnson in tow enjoying all of our hospitality ie a few more pints. Then it was time for us to catch the ferry back to Rossaveal ond on to Galway. Before saying farewell to Mr. Johnson Joyce got his address and with many thanks we parted the Aran Islands our task accomplished and a new friendship formed. Looking back at the sad and sorrowful face of Mr, Johnson Fate once again took a hand and he got the best touririst that day.
P.S. Joyce and Mr. Johnson traded Christmas cards for 7 years until he died and no more cards came back our way. Joyce always sent one of those card that when you opened it it played a Christmas carol, I’m sure he enjoyed them