TAKING HIGH ROADS AND LOW ROADS THROUGH IRELAND : In Connemara, nestled in a remote cottage in a Gaelic-speaking pocket of Ireland

It was early morning. Cool and damp. I was fanning a turf fire in a fireplace that had been kitchen stove and central heating before the Irish cottage, where my wife, our twin teen-age daughters and I were staying, had been modernized. Suddenly there came a heavy knocking on the sturdy wooden front door.

Glancing out the window I saw an elderly man who I supposed to be a motorist in trouble and seeking a telephone in this barren region, where the next phone may be 10 miles away. Edging through a closet-sized foyer bulging with coats and dirty Wellingtons, I pulled the door open.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“Sure, and I should be helping you,” the man said, smiling and walking past me directly to the fireplace.

“You’ve got it burnin’!” he exclaimed. “Howd’ye know about turf fires?”

“Well, uh, I have built a few fires,” I explained apologetically.

We had arrived the night before and that was my first meeting with Tom, a man with eyes as blue as the Irish sky and a face as craggy as the rocky shore of the small inlet off Bertraghboy Bay, a few yards behind our isolated cottage. The farmer and his wife lived a half mile down the road. They had a long-standing arrangement with my wife’s family in Dublin, who owned the charming cottage we were staying in, to keep an eye on it when it was unoccupied.

On the rare occasions when he saw an unfamiliar car parked on the narrow road’s grassy shoulder, generously dotted with splatters of manure from free-roaming cows, he would walk over and show the temporary occupants how to build a fire with turf, somewhat comparable to very soft coal.

A few minutes later his wife, as bright and friendly as your favorite aunt, delighted all of us when she arrived carrying a loaf of homemade bread baked on a fireplace hearth and faintly redolent of turf smoke, carefully wrapped in her worn, blue apron. She said she had baked it “this vera mornin’. And ‘tis for yer breakfast.”

Their warmth is a universal trait of the people who live in a lonely and hauntingly beautiful corner of all Ireland, the western coastal region of Connemara whose epicenter is Glinsk.

It is a stark and unyielding land. The thin soil has always given grudgingly of its fruits, and fishermen long battled the sea in fragile, oar-driven boats known as currachs . Separated from the rest of Ireland by vast bogs, bleak terrain and barren, precipitous quartzite mountains, it is a sparsely settled area, which the 20th Century is only beginning to invade, and the customs of the past are still much alive.

This is the heart of Gaelic-speaking Ireland. Though the people are fluent in English, the ancient tongue--referred to locally as Irish--is their language of street, pub and classroom. Place names usually are written both in English and Gaelic, and sometimes only Gaelic. Ancient pride, you know.

To me, a powerful lure of this barren and remote countryside, where we have traveled on several occasions and most recently visited last December, is that it is off the tourist paths--a wondrous place for those who seek the road less traveled, but not for those who enjoy bright lights, theater, elegant shopping and an active night life.

You won’t hear Mozart at a live concert, but your toes will tap merrily as you sit in smoke-filled pubs listening to the beat of traditional Irish music by local musicians. It is a taste of real country Irish life.

Connemara has traditionally been a sparsely settled land. Because of its isolation, it historically resisted a close alliance with the rest of Ireland. The locals waved to Columbus when his flotilla stopped in Galway Bay on its way to the New World. In the mid-1800s, more than half the population left, most coming to America because of the potato famine. In the late 1800s, Clifden--today one of Connemara’s main tourist centers--became the unofficial capital of the region and a popular vacation location for British hunters and fishermen.

Motorists have no trouble finding Glinsk, sometimes spelled Glynsk or Glinsce, on road maps of Connemara, 176 miles almost due west of Dublin. But they may never know they’ve found it while driving along a narrow and lonely coastal stretch of Route L102. Glinsk consists of only three or four widely scattered cottages and the gleaming white Glynsk House, a modest hotel atop a small hill in the middle of nowhere, between bog and ocean, with sweeping views of the striking landscape.

The hotel has a dozen charming rooms, a bar popular as a local gathering place and a turf fire always flickering cozily in the lobby. Some eight empty miles south is the village of Carna. As Connemara is a center of one of Ireland’s Gaelic-speaking pockets, this tiny community is the very soul of those who cling to the ancient tongue.

Between Glinsk and Carna are more of the endless flat peat bogs pushing up against the mountains. On our first drive to Carna we stopped to watch a couple of farmers cutting and piling heavy black peat into long rows to let it dry before it is compressed into shiny, black brick-size blocks of turf, a task they have performed for generations. The girls were delighted when they waved and the farmers, leaning on their shovels, waved back, beckoning them to come over for a visit.

Occasionally one drives past a cottage, almost always white, surrounded by plots of land ringed with stone fences and, often, with stone remnants of a long abandoned home nearby.

Carna has one street and a couple of stores, Moran’s market and Geraghty’s supermarket, with bushel baskets out front heaped with packages of turf. There are, of course, the pubs. Popular are Mac’s bar, whose Irish name is Tigh Mheaic, and the cheerful bar in Moran’s, whose name is Tigh Mhorain.

The village is a wonderful place to hear Irish music almost every night in any of the pubs. One night we attended an Irish dance, known as celi , in the high school gym. I captured the joyous musicians with their whistles and drums on my tape recorder. My wife was delightfully shocked when the mayor, a man broad of shoulder and light on his feet, invited her to be his partner in a traditional dance set.

During July there are numerous local festivals bouncing with Irish music and colorful traditional dances in the Carna area. One of the most unusual is the celebration of “St. Mac Dara’s Day,” July 16. Saint Mac Dara, the patron saint of Carna, lived on a nearby island. A pilgrimage goes to the island to hold a Mass, watch boat races and celebrate. The island’s St. Mac Dara chapel dates back to the 6th Century, the same century the region was swept into Catholicism. The chapel was restored in 1975.

Ashore, all of Carna celebrates. Visitors will recognize how important the holiday is because the pubs, which normally close around 11 p.m., on this night are allowed by law to stay open as long as the stout flows and the violins, drums and tin whistles play.

The best-known festival in Connemara, however, is the annual Connemara pony show in Clifden, this year on Aug. 18. Legend has it that these sturdy, powerful small horses descended from Arabian horses that swam ashore after part of the Spanish Armada was destroyed in storms nearby. The breeders range from farmers to aristocrats, but they share one thing besides their love of the ponies--a love of Guinness.

The most spectacular mountains in Connemara are the steep and treeless Twelve Bens--sometimes called Twelve Pins--a cluster of 2,000-plus foot peaks about 15 miles north of Carna as the endangered, protected raven flies, but twice that far on the twisting road that follows the rock-strewn coast. There are several well-marked hiking trails in Connemara National Park, a small section of the Pins, with exhilarating views of bogs, lakes, ocean and mountains.

Clifden, with a population of perhaps 1,000, about 25 miles from Glinsk, has shops offering a remarkable selection of local art and handmade Irish tweed clothing. We were especially pleased with the quality and variety at the Celtic Shop (in the nearby village of Spiddal, we found similar quality at Standun).

Four miles from Clifden are several towering radio masts where Guglielmo Marconi operated the first commercially reliable two-way transatlantic telephone service, and, nearby, a monument marks an almost forgotten epic in aviation history. Here in 1919, two aviators, John Alcock and Arthur Brown, landed their biplane in the first nonstop crossing of the Atlantic, flying from Newfoundland to Ireland. Both sites are well marked.

Beyond being awed by the coast, visiting imposing ruins and prowling through shops in the few villages, visitors can fish for trout on lakes scattered throughout the area, go to sea in chartered fishing boats for about $25 per person, and hike over mountains, across bogs or along the coast to watch the seals. At almost every tiny port, boats are available for hire to visit islands.

Golfers who wish to challenge the always breezy Connemara Golf Club overlooking the Atlantic near Clifden be warned: It is a point of honor to play through, whether hail or gale. Several villages have free tennis courts.

Excellent horsewomen, our then 15-year-old daughters quickly spotted roadside signs at several horse liveries along the coastal roads. Weather permitting, they galloped along the beaches, their red hair flying in the wind, or took trail rides into the mountains almost daily for about $4 an hour.

The scattered beaches are fine for picnicking, but the waters, even in mid-summer, are chilly for swimming.

On the coast road a dozen miles north of Carna lies one of the most elegant country hotels in all Ireland, the Cashel House. Its 50 acres of rare and colorful flowering gardens have won both praise and awards. It commemorates with unabashed pride in its printed literature when the late Gen. and Mrs. Charles de Gaulle spent a two-week vacation there in 1969.

In addition to an outstanding riding school, the hotel stables breed Connemara ponies and offer guided pony treks into the mountains or across the bogs. At the hotel there are also tennis courts, croquet, billiards and a tiny ocean-side beach, which is a pleasant walk away.

We found the Cashel House restaurant to be visually stunning, with polished wood and gleaming brass. Unfortunately, our meal of lamb and fish was merely acceptable, especially considering the price. Dinner for four, with wine and tip, was $210.

Not far from Cashel House is the Zetland House hotel, smaller but equally charming and in the same price range (about $95 in summer). It is well worth a special visit to its truly wonderful restaurant, where we dined on superb lamb and beautifully done salmon. Our dinner tab for four, including wine, tip, and a magnificent view of the nearby ocean, was $190.

If meal prices seem high for such a rural area, it should also be pointed out that dinner in local restaurants and pubs will range from $6 to $10. A cheerful “pint” of heady dark beer is extra.

But to touch the intimate heart of the people, stuff yourself on hearty portions of Irish home cooking, and hear endless tales of this mystical corner of Ireland, then you must spend a few days of casual B&B; touring. Technique: Drive in any direction on any road, from coast to mountains, until you see a “B&B;” sign in front of a home that pleases your taste. All are clean and pleasant, some are antique and beautiful. The Irish love children, and so do the B&Bs.;

Occasionally something wonderful happens by accident in Connemara. This is the way we stumbled upon Janny Levin’s modest booklet, “Discover Carna, A Guide for Visitors” (published in 1991), under a stack of magazines at Geraghty’s supermarket in Carna. We paid about $2.25 and found it to be an invaluable guide to the charms of the area. In 16 pages of amiable text and hand-drawn maps--all place names in both Gaelic and English--it told us where to gather mussels and periwinkles, spot seals, find orchids, watch heron and curlew, and go on memorable walks in both bog and mountain.

Almost more significantly: for readers with further questions, the author lists his personal telephone number in the book . . . an illustration of just how small and friendly this part of Ireland is.

GUIDEBOOK: The Cream of Connemara

Getting there: For air service information see Dingle Guidebook, L15. Drive time from Shannon to Glinsk is about three hours.

Where to stay: (Many of the following include breakfast in the price.) In Clifden, the 17-room Ardagh Hotel (tel. 011-353-95-21384; fax 011-353-95-21314) overlooks the ocean just south of town and has an excellent cafe; summer rates from $65 per person.

In Cashel Bay, Cashel House Hotel (tel. 011-353-95-31001, fax 011-353-95-31077) is an elegant country hotel with elegant prices: summer rates begin at about $95 per person, per night. Zetland House (tel. 011-353-95-31111, fax 011-353-95-31117) has 29 rooms; summer rates begin at about $70 per person.

In Clifden, Clifden Bay Hotel on Main Street (tel. 011-353-95-21801; fax 011-353-95-21458) is warm and informal. It has 28 rooms and a good restaurant; summer rates from about $60 per person. South of Clifden, Rock Glen Manor House (tel. 011-353-95-21035; fax 011-353-95-21737) is a converted 19th-Century English shooting lodge set in wooded glens; rates from $65 per person.

In Carna, the 12-room Sceirde House Hotel (tel. 011-353-95-32255; fax 011-353-95-32342) is comfortable and private, with traditional music on weekends; peak season rates begin at about $30 per person. Glynsk House (tel. 011-353-95-32279, fax 011-353-95-32342), north of town, has rates beginning at about $40 per person.

In Moyard, Crocnaraw Country House (tel. 011-353-95-41068) is set in a 20-acre garden overlooking the ocean; six rooms, summer rates from $35 per person.

Near Recess, the Lough Inagh Lodge, just north of Recess (tel. 011-353-95-34706; fax 011-353-95-34708) is a 19th-Century fishing and hunting lodge with 12 rooms; summer rates begin at about $85 per person.

Where to eat: In Clifden, the Ardagh Hotel (phone number above) specializes in local salmon, mussels and oysters; dinner about $40 (prices listed here do not include tip, wine).

Barr an Bhaile Barn, west of town, mainly seafood; the fish come ashore at the pier beneath this seafood restaurant; $20-$40; tel. 95-23539.

Kelly’s Coffee House, delicious homemade goods, breakfast, lunch and tea, near Market Square (no phone number available).

Rosleague Manor Hotel, just west of Letterfrak; superb food with a light French touch; $40. Two miles west on N59; tel. 95-41101.

Sceirde House in Carna. Fresh and wholesome. Lamb recommended. $10-$20. On Main Street; tel. 95-32255.

For more information: Irish Tourist Board, 345 Park Ave., New York, N.Y. 10154, (800) 223-6470 or (212) 418-0800.