Grey everywhere today. Biting wet winds are blowing in from the south east. The Aran Islands look like three faint grey clouds as sea and sky merge into a dull smudge. I walk down the Cahermaccrusheen boreen towards the north-west, with the castle to my right off into the distance. Around these fields once stood the ancient Cahermacrusheen dolmen, which inexplicably disappeared in the 1890s. “Hit by lightning” was the verdict of the local churchman. At the sides of the lane there are signs of a more prosaic explanation. Some of the walls are built with giant stones. It would be interesting to bring in an investigative team to find out what those farmers were up to.
In the present day people can’t get away with pulling down dolmens. What we do instead is build over as much of the land as we can get away with. Right at the end of the boreen, before it turns into the grass track that leads to the faery field, vast stones are piled up at the edge of a meadow and the wooden frame of a house stands ready, waiting for the go-ahead from the local council planning department. Rules have tightened up round here in recent years but that won’t stop motivated people chancing their arm. This is the edge of the grassland just before it blends ino the rocky Burren. It’s possible to leave the modern world behind when walking down this track. But for how much longer?