Then, around the corner, a spindly crane comes into view, lurking with intent over a massive lump of concrete. A cloud of dust swirls about it, as diggers groan and creak like weary joints. The whole affair is carved from a hill that sits behind the majestic Cliffs of Moher.

By next spring, this building site will have been transformed into the new 31m Cliffs of Moher Experience. Some people mistakenly think it is a new 'visitor centre'. Others fasten onto the term 'interpretive centre'. But its official title is 'Experience'. Back in the '60s, rock 'n' roll had the Jimi Hendrix Experience. Next year, Clare will have the Cliffs of Moher Experience.

The Experience is to herald a new, sanitised, well, 'experience' for visitors to the cliffs. This new order will also sweep out old traditions, like spontaneous busking on the cliff path. Long before the Experience was a glint in the eye of some consultant, there was busking on the cliffs. In a county renowned for traditional music, Moher, with the wind and the birds and the sea and the cliffs, has always attracted those who make music.

The presence of 800,000 annual visitors also helps when the hat is passed round.

Now all that will change. Buskers will have to be licensed. A licence may require performers to audition before a panel selected by Clare county council. They're calling it 'Cliff Idol', but beyond the jokes, livelihoods are at stake, liable to be blown away on an Atlantic breeze.

At last month's council meeting, the Experience project leader Ger Dollard told members that court proceedings were afoot to evict buskers and traders. This was to end the "free-for-all" at the cliffs. "We want to start with a clean sheet, " he told the meeting.

Last Wednesday, at the height of the season, there wasn't much of a free-for-all of buskers and traders. The car park was relatively full, with over a dozen coaches and a multiple of that in cars. Up on the cliffs, one man was selling engraved silver pennants.

Just down the way, Tina Morrissey was playing her harp. She works here, from 9.30am to 4pm over the tourist season from April to October. For 22 years, this has been her livelihood. Before that, she accompanied her father who busked here. Apart from playing, she also sells CDs of her music, which includes the accordian and flute. She has been served notice to quit and she's not too hot on the notion of auditioning for a spot under the new order.

"They want to throw us off the cliffs, " she says. "They don't even acknowledge we're here and they want us out." She does not oppose the idea of licensing, but is adamant there should be preference for long-term buskers, who depend on the cliffs for their livelihood.

The new regime would also prohibit sale of her CDs, the element, Tina says, that makes her work viable. (Maybe there will be a special dispensation for anybody selling Hendrix's Are You Experienced? album in keeping with the prevailing theme. ) She sees it all as an effort by the council to shake down tourists for as much money as possible.

"People come here for simplicity and not to get screwed, which is what will happen if all this goes ahead, " she says.

The path to the cliffs is bordered by a fence behind which dust rises and diggers groan. A sign on the fence heralds the future.

"This massive, subterranean, nine metre high space will include specialised spaces such as a cyclorama and a ledge experience, " it says.

A cyclorama? A ledge experience within the Experience? And you thought Moher was a place with cliffs.

Gerry Cahill has sold Fairtrade jewellery at the cliffs for the last seven years. He also has been served with notice to skedaddle.

There will be no auditions for traders.

Already, there are six licensed traders, who were awarded the licences over a decade ago after the council failed in an attempt to have them evicted. No other traders will be permitted, irrespective of the current arrangements.

Like Morrissey, Cahill received the first legal missive last August. A second arrived in September, threatening court proceedings and warning that if they didn't get out within two days, they risked being liable for all legal costs. Then the urgency faded. The new date for a court showdown is October.

"We've no problem with it being regulated, " he says. "Why not just set standards and we will comply with them rather than going to court. What it is is the council just want to get all the tourist money for themselves."

The money is an issue. Access to the cliffs is free as it is an ancient right of way. But next year, the cost of parking will rise from 5 to 8 for cars, and up to 60 for coaches.

Entrance to the Experience will be 4, and whether tourists will be somehow invited to believe that they must go through the Experience to access the cliffs remains to be seen.

At a time when cost is a vital component in the tourist market, the question arises as to the wisdom of the state dipping deeper into tourists' pockets.

Ger Dollard doesn't see it that way. The Experience, he says, will give value for money and will melt into the landscape when completed. He suggests that, heretofore, the cliffs were little more than a toilet stop for passing tourist traffic. Under the new regime, they won't know what's hit them.

"When they arrive, they will get the complete experience, " he says. "We envisage tourists spending two hours here and so they will spend a bit more. Some will stay overnight to visit the cliffs. Everybody in the industry is impressed at what we're trying to do."

He doesn't know who exactly will do the auditioning if supply exceeds demand for the licencing.

"We have to start from a zero base, " he says. "Somebody is going to have to assess if they can play music. And we'll have the man or woman in the street who has an appreciation of music and spontaneity."

Back on the cliffs, the only other sign of a busker was halfway along the walk, where a chair and banjo case appear to be abandoned. Minutes later, the absent musician reappears. Michael Galvin explains that he just went for a walk along the cliffs, a little benefit-in-kind from his place of work.

Where does he stand on the auditions?

"The ones that are here should be left alone, " he says. "Audition away, but leave those that are here already."

With that, he picked up his banjo, lay down his hat, and plucked against the wind blowing in over the fabled cliffs.