On the rugged coast of County Clare, where the Atlantic Ocean relentlessly erodes Europe's last edge, lie the Bridges of Ross—or rather, what's left of them. Once three natural bridges, carved out of the limestone over millennia. Today, only one still braves the waves—a reminder of what the sea can take if you don't look.
The path there is short but impressive: narrow trails, salt-laden air, seagulls bracing themselves against the wind. No railing, no kiosk, no entrance fee—just an open view of a landscape that is sufficient in itself.
Whoever comes here stands not only on the edge of Europe, but also on the edge of time. Geology tells stories of pressure and duration, and sea spray patiently breaks them down into chapters. And somewhere in between, you wander—small but amazed.