1. The "road" from Galway to Westport is more like a path someone paved over and decided to use for cars. No one told them it would also be used for trucks, buses, two cars passing each other in opposite directions, tractors, pedestrians and sheep. The latter begin to show up right at the side of the road about midway along the journey. They are either the most fearless sheep in Ireland or the dumbest. "Hi there, are you an oncoming mass of metal and glass? Let me have a good look at you!"
2. The route is undeniably scenic: lush farm fields, stony farm fields, stone fences, stone bridges, stone farm houses, guys in yellow vests fixing stone fences, road construction crews, emerald mountains, quaint little villages and B&Bs and even quainter tourist traps.
3. Each village has its own weather system. You go from sunshine, to rain to sun again merely by rounding a corner.
4. Some Germans are watching soccer in the B&B. Germany is winning, barely.
5. Out my B&B window, I can see Croagh Patrick, where St. Patrick apparently spent 40 days and 40 nights (a not very original number) impressing the locals with this devoutness. It's now a pilgrimage site, attracting thousand of Catholics from around the world who scale it in the last week of July. Kind of like a Grouse Grind for the faithful. Archaelogical digs reveal the top of the mountain was a sacred pagan site dating back to the Bronze Age. Pat knew what he was doing.
6. The local Anglican minister (the vast majority of the locals are Catholic, so his congregation is tiny) plays gigs in one of the local pubs on Wednesday nights.
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