Once an enchanting backwater of colorful fishermen’s cottages, this tiny village—set at the point where the Cliffs of Moher flatten out and disappear into the sea as limestone plateaus—now seems to consist almost entirely of B&Bs, hostels, hotels, holiday homes, pubs, and restaurants. Built on a flat, low-lying plain that follows the River Aille a short walk from the pier, it's hard to identify where the village begins and ends. The frenzy of bank lending during Ireland's Celtic Tiger economic boom years is responsible for the explosion in development, making the little bridge that leads into Fisher Street almost impassible during peak-season travel. Doolin's frequent trad sessions and its seasonal ferry service to the Aran Islands draw the crowds.
When there was every reason in the world to stay away and see the ruins, one woman traveled to Greece to get to work.More