Day 14: Gortahork to Bunbeg (14.6 miles)

I got started later than usual today. We were left without any phone signal last night which meant I had to write and post on the blog this morning. On top of that it's nearly an hour's drive to the drop-off point now so it was actually 12.20pm by the time I said 'goodbye' to Tim today and headed off west of Gortahork.

It wasn't long before the road started to climb. I hadn't had time to check the maps before setting out today so the almost instant hills were a bit unexpected. The coast provided vista after stunning vista as the road slowly wended its way upward.

As usual the sheep and lambs were very chatty. Well not all of them. It was such a sunny day some of them were having a snooze.

Soon I could see a beach below me. The higher I climbed the better it looked. The sea was a mixture of deep blues and greens. I even saw a few people on the beach near the pier getting ready for a swim.

In the distance was Tory Island, a remote but still inhabited island that is frequently cut off in the winter due to rough seas. No need to worry about that today though.

Ahead of me was a very large hill - it definitely would qualify as a wee mountain. With growing dread as I walked closer I realised that I was going to have to walk around it. It was HUGE! The road that led to it, because it ran over a bog (with all its inherent sinkiness) was about as twisty as it could be. I could see where I needed to go but the road never heard that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line - it just meandered around and around. As I came close to the wee mountain (Cnoc Fola) there came a fork in the road. The road to the left would bring me directly to where I wanted to go in 6 or 7 miles. The road to the right - which was the Wild Atlantic Way would take considerably longer and would involve a lot more uphill climbing. I was tempted to go left. I really was. I'd only been on the bog for a few miles but I was already utterly pissed off with it. I checked the distance on my phone. The way to the right would be 15 miles in total. It wouldn't be an easy walk but I didn't sign up for easy, I signed up to follow the Wild Atlantic Way as much as I possibly could. It didn't take more than a minute to talk myself out of taking the easy way and I turned right.

I wasn't wrong about what was ahead. It was more hills and more bog.

I was starting to regret my decision when I finally went around the wee mountain and the coast just opened up before me.

It was all worth it to see this. I continued on into Brinlack. It was ten miles into the walk and I needed a rest stop. Brinlack was the weirdest place. It was a very large village of just detached bungalows. It sprawled on for ages. Surely it must have a pub, or a tea shop or something? I kept trudging on. There was a very small post office. that was it. I was out of town and on my way to Derrybeg when I came across Teach Jack (Jack's House) a very large bar/ restaurant/ lodging house. I saw it from about a mile away. "Please be a pub. Please be a pub."  I said the whole way there. As I got closer and saw how huge it was I had doubts and thought it might be a hotel or a golf club or something."Please be a pub." It was a pub though so I had a lovely sit down, a cold drink and ... well you know at this stage what was needed after four hours on the road!

I texted Tim and arranged to meet in Bunbeg at 6pm. I was a little over 4 miles away. The rest of the journey wasn't very interesting because the sprawl of bungalows just continued, albeit interspersed with the odd dormer bungalow. It was very odd indeed. Brinlack turned into Derrybeg (a much bigger affair with actual shops and stuff) which eventually turned into Bunbeg. I found our meeting spot. It was 5.55pm. Tim came 2 minutes later. We couldn't have coordinated it better if we tried.

One of the biggest disappointments I had when planning my visit to Donegal was that I would not get to see the Glenveagh National Park which is inland and not part of The Wild Atlantic Way. However, because I have Tim with me for this week we were able to drive through it on our way home tonight. It is the most gobsmackingly beautiful and bizarre place I've ever visited, Proper big mountains tower above an alien scrubland. There are plantation forests and lakes and the roads are a driver's dream. I turned to my husband as we were zooming along and said, "You're loving this, aren't you?"

"I certainly am," he grinned.

I'm so glad I didn't miss it!

Tonight I'm parked up facing a tranquil lake with the sun just setting in front of me. It also happens to be a 4G hotspot with fantastic internet access. I didn't want to take anything for granted tonight. It's a long way back to Bunbeg. I'd like to get started earlier tomorrow.

Total mileage: 200.9 miles

Day 13: Creeslough to Gortahork (16.2 miles)

Due to the vagaries of the internet connection here at the house, I couldn't write about yesterday, yesterday. So you might get two posts out of me today with a bit of luck and cloud cover (apparently it's the clear nights like last night that have the worst signal.)

So yesterday ... was lovely. I mean really, really lovely. After the hard slog of Tuesday, I looked at the map and saw that a good 90% of the route today would be on N roads (I guess the nearest UK equivalent would be an A road and in the US, a highway) which made me feel nervous and question why I was doing this at all. As I set out from Creeslough I had pavement to walk on to the town border and then as soon as the 100 km/h sign appeared the walkway disappeared and I was sharing my footspace with fast-moving traffic again. For about four miles the road curved and went uphill on a slow gradient. It was comfortable enough to walk on but with no views it really was very dull. Then after about 4.5 miles I reached the small seaside town of Portnablagh and everything changed.

The first thing that happened is that I came upon an art gallery that was also a restaurant/ cafe. I hadn't intended to take a break this early and the sensible / goal-orientated side of me was telling me that I needed to make it to Dunfanaghy by sucha-sucha time and that there was no time to take extra breaks. It warned me that sitting at this early stage was inviting stiffness and would make the rest of the journey harder. But I looked at the paintings in the window and said, "Sure, fuck it! What's the point of this if I can't do the nice stuff on the spur of the moment?" So I went in to Buttermilk, which was very busy, and I looked at all the lovely paintings created by local artists. There was one in particular I fell in love with. Such a pity I didn't have the hundreds of euro to buy it with or the ability to carry it with me. But it was nice to look. There were no seats left inside but there was a terrace out the back where I was welcome to sit if I liked. I walked outside to find that it overlooked a pretty little beach and pier. Heaven. The seats were all wet but I didn't mind. As I rummaged around in my small backpack for my waterproofs the owner of the place came outside to welcome me and dry off my chair and table. I used my trousers as a little cushion and ordered some soup. I was still full up after breakfast but I really wanted to stay for a bit. The soup itself was extremely tasty and I surprised myself by eating it all. To be honest I could have stayed there a lot longer but sensible Jane over-ruled me and I packed up to leave. I spoke to the owner as I paid of my meal.  He asked me if I was walking and I told him about my challenge. He wondered if I was doing it for a charity and I said that I was raising money for the RNLI. He was so pleased with that. "Oh the RNLI is a wonderful institution. We rely on it so heavily around here. Every year we lose someone to the sea. A local fisherman drowned last year. If it wasn't for the RNLI there'd be a lot more families mourning every year. It's a great, great thing and so important to those who make their living by or on the sea."

And there you have it. If I needed a good reason to keep going after the hard days that was it. So if you ever find yourself in Portnablagh do go in to Buttermilk for a meal or a gander at the art. The staff are brilliant and (as it's now my new preoccupation in life), the bathroom is of an excellent standard.

The view from the terrace.

Reluctantly, I pressed on but with the sea on my right now, I had lots of changing views to look at and I suddenly felt as though the bounce had returned to my step.

Dunfanaghy was the next town along the way. It was a bigger place, full of pubs promising ceol agus deoch (music and drink), as well as interesting craft shops. having lost a half hour earlier I couldn't linger and also the temptation to buy things I couldn't possibly carry was far too great, so I continued on toward Falcarragh.

The next six miles was tough at times. The road was relentlessly busy and I longed to get off of it. It provided a few opportunities for escape. I managed to find a couple of roads that not only took me off the beaten track which had the added advantage of also shaving off a couple of miles as well.

However even though the sea had disappeared, this road brought new mountain vistas which offer a little window of what I might be in for today.

I also took this picture which I'm sharing because this little fellow was so far away I had to use maximum zoom, stand on a bank and steady myself on a telephone pole to get it. So viola!

When I finally got to Falcarragh, As usual, my priority was to find a bathroom (is anyone detecting a theme emerging?) so I stopped at a visitor centre to grab a quick drink and to use the facilities. I felt bad because it was about a half hour before closing time and the ladies who worked there were clearly trying to get a jump on the final cleaning duties so they could leave as soon as it closed. I walked over the mopped floor and used the bathroom that had already been cleaned (with so much bleach I nearly passed out). The drink was very welcome though and the women who worked there weren't at all put out by my presence there and the intrusion for 1.20 euros. It would only be another couple of miles to Gortahork so on I went feeling quite refreshed.

I took another short-cut over a hill which was very pleasant but it was also very nice to see the sea again as I walked down to the end of my route.

Tim hadn't arrived yet when I reached the town so I figured what the hey I could walk on to the other side of the town to the point where the Wild Atlantic Way finally left the N56. I thought it would be a good starting point for today's walk. As I waited for Tim to come get me I reflected on how different the day had been. It had been less that 2 miles shorter than Tuesday but I felt good  at its end.  I don't know what changed. Was it me? Was there something about the route that was better? I do think breaking it up with towns made it more interesting. I came to the conclusion that there would be good days and bad days and the difference between them would be intangible because there would be so many factors to consider. It's a magical mystery tour!

When Tim arrived I asked him if, on the way back, we could drive the routes I had to miss out. One was a spur road from Dunfanaghy; one a trip to a beach and the third was the peninsula I'd had to abandon on Tuesday.  I might not have had time to walk them but I really wanted to see what I was missing. He was up for it so of we went.

The first side trip took me to Horn Head. As the car wound around a single track road up and up and up again, I found myself very grateful that I'd decided not to take this little detour on foot. As we came to the view point my fear of edges started to go into overdrive. I think if I'd walked this road there might have been tears. That said the view was INCREDIBLE!

EDGE!!

The beach at Marble Hill was beautiful and long and very busy but most of all it was COLD. So very cold - so we didn't linger.

The last visit was to the Northern tip of the Ros Guill Peninsula - the place I should've walked that day. Boy am I glad I didn't. I mean I am SO pleased we went to see it as it was interesting and so very beautiful but there was barely enough room on the road for a single car and it was miles of high cliffs and winding roads. I was in a state of near panic in the car. If I'd had to walk it, I'd have been a mess. You see I have to walk on the right - the same side as on-coming traffic, which would have put me resolutely on the EDGE all the way around. Also the other thing I realised was that it would have taken me the entire day just to do this route. There was a lot of climbing and it was about 12 miles in total. So all in all I think that my messing up the schedule was probably a blessing in disguise.

One of the interesting things we saw was this cannon from the S.S. Laurentic which was sunk nearby during WW1. You can read about its doomed history on this handy rock. There are so many little tributes along this route to ships lost at sea.  The fact that there aren't more is largely due to the efforts of the RNLI and things like this are as much a reminder of its importance as the happy stories of rescue.

If you fancy giving a little to the RNLI my Just Giving page can be found here:

https://www.justgiving.com/Jane-Volker  

It'll be going till I've finished at the end of August. Many thanks xxx

Total mileage: 186.3 miles

Day 12: Fanad Head to Creeslough (18.1 miles)

Today was long. I listened to my body as I walked along and it complained:

"I keep telling you - 10 miles is plenty. That point when the ache appears in the middle of your back - that's me saying I'm done now. But do you ever stop? Oh no. You just keep saying, "Just five more miles, I've got to do at least 15 miles every day." Haven't you noticed that your feet start to hurt? Your ankles get shooting pains in them? That's me saying it's time to stop."

I know this is the case. As I lie here in bed with my feet throbbing and my legs aching, I know my body has a point.  Today I pushed it to over 18 miles. I had to. I messed up again. I was looking at Google maps for a reasonable stopping point when I realised that I'd factored my husband to be here for a day longer that he's going to be. I had huge problems with Google maps crashing my computer (it has a graphic interface issue) while I was trying to do an itinerary. I kept stopping and starting and I threw in the hat when my word document was lost when my computer decided to shut itself down. So I did it in my head and I clearly mucked it up because as I looked at the map today I realised I'd factored in 2 days to get from Fanad Head to Creeslough but I only had one. I therefore took the decision to not go to the peninsula North of Carrickart thereby saving myself 10 miles but I would have to do an extra 3 miles as well. Let's just say that my poor almost 50 year-old body was not best pleased.

Ouchie.

The walk itself was through incredibly beautiful terrain. It took me inland a bit and in between two lakes. The weather wasn't too bad either - just two heavy rain showers the entire day. The roads themselves were very fast moving and I was on high alert a lot of the time. I became aware, about five miles into the walk that I wasn't appreciating what was around me. I knew that I had a long way to go, that the roads would be hard and that it would be hilly. I was treating it like an endurance event rather than, what it should be, a long gentle stroll in the country. I know that I won't have to worry about having to be at a certain point by a certain time, in the summer, but right now I do and it's taking a bit of a physical toll. But that said, I'm now back on schedule and tomorrow I should only have to go 15 miles. That should be OK.

One of the nicest things about walking in the Irish countryside at this time of year is seeing the animals and their babies out and about. I had a lot of conversations with lambs and their mothers one of whom actually sounded like she was saying "JAAAAANE". No really. It's true. I was very happy to see calves out in the field with their mothers. I find the practice of removing calves from their mothers after birth to be utterly barbaric. so scenes like this (yes - even with the chap in the back openly disrespecting the camera) to be lovely.

Today's walk took me inland and between two lakes, which surprisingly, given that it's just more water, had a completely different vibe to the coastal walks. For a start the wind was different - gentler, more civilised. I'm not sure if I prefer it though I can attest to the fact that the midges and the hover flies did. Yes! The little buggers are out already! I am told it will get much, much worse in the summer. Still hoards of flies mounting kamikaze missions toward my mouth and nose wasn't the most pleasant part of the day. But I have to say that the views were just stunning.

Unlike the Inishowen peninsula where there were little banks at the side of the road where I could sit any time I fancied taking the weight off, this particular area has fences and hedgerows and hence nowhere to just stop. On top of that the roads are busy and with traffic passing at 80 km/h about a foot from where I am, I don't feel inclined to stop. So it was just over 11 miles into my walk today before I got the chance to sit. 

I did manage to get off the busy road for a mile or two. Aside from the fact they are generally more aesthetically pleasing - 

- these roads also offer the opportunity for brief interactions with the locals.

ME (to gentleman walking on the opposite side of the road): Lovely day, isn't it?

HIM: That'll be the weather.

When I reached Carrickart. I had a very welcome sit-down in a cafe with wifi (ah wifi how I miss you!). Bliss.

Carrickart is a lovely little town with an interesting range of shops and several surf schools which offer classes like yoga, pilates and other land-related activities. Although quite small it had three large churches - Presbyterian, Church of Ireland and Catholic. I could not see how such a small little place could fill these huge places of worship but I suppose the summer must bring a lot of tourists in, who wouldn't dream of taking a Sunday off while on holiday.  One of the curious things I noticed  about the churches in the area is that the bells are not locked up in a tower but sitting outdoors in the elements. I found them to be quite beautiful. I imagine they're quite loud when you give them a bash. Or perhaps they're simply decorative as so many churches use recording of bells these times.

I would have liked to have had the time to stay longer in Carrickart and maybe explore the shops where you could buy bronntanas (a gift) for your family. But it was already nearing 4pm and I had to make it to Creelough another 7 miles away before I could hail a passing husband for a lift back to base.

The next part of the journey was grueling. I'd already received my ten-mile warning from my back and  my feet chimed in for the rest of the trek. On the plus side I was so in the zone to get finished I kind-of temporarily lost my fear of the traffic. I just ploughed on and expected them to get out of my way. I'm not sure if it's a sensible strategy, but it worked a treat.

Here are a few photos of the places I passed.

As I dragged my tired feet towards Creeslough and old man carrying a loppers crossed the road to say hello. He was intrigued by the woman in the funny hat and the big orange tent.

HIM: You're dressed well for the rain, aren't you?

ME: Yes I am, and it has the added advantage of making me very visible to the cars on the road.

HIM (laughing): No, they can't miss you in that! It's a grand rig-out, no doubt!

And there you have it. My poncho, hat and waterproof trousers are a "grand rig-out". No doubt.

Total mileage: 170.1 miles

Day 11: Rathmullan to Portsalon (10.8 miles) followed by Fanad Head to Portsalon (6 miles) (Total:16.8 miles)

I wasn't looking forward to today for a few reasons. I've been traveling back and forth on the route since we arrived on Saturday and it took in a particularly beautiful but dangerous section which would have me walking along a corkscrew road with a rather long drop a foot from where I would be walking. Now I'm not afraid of heights - I love to be high up looking at the view - what I'm terrified of is edges with long drops on the other side of them. I get dizzy walking over bridges; I get anxious climbing stairs with glass banisters; I feel sick coming within 10 feet of a cliff. Basically I have a fear of falling. Given how unpredictable the weather is around these parts I was nervous that if it got windy when I walked that section I could be blown off the road and ... well ... you know. So when I woke up this morning to the sound of the rain bashing against my window I was not filled with confidence.

I dragged my heels getting ready to leave. I knew it was going to be a long day and ordinarily I would have liked to get an early start but it was knocking on 11 am by the time we left in the car for Rathmullan.  By now the sky had cleared and it was looking a lot more cheerful. I didn't even have my poncho on but I was wearing the waterproof trousers. I'd been caught out without them before and got very wet indeed.

Tim dropped me off and I set off, not really knowing what the day would have in store for me.  Not long into the route however a little gap in the hedgerow led to a beautiful little beach - a lovely surprise that was the turning point for the mood of the day.

I made good progress. It was a slow upward climb for most of the morning with stunning views of Lough Swilly to my right.

 The locals were very friendly and throughout it all the sun continued to shine.

It wasn't long before the hills got steeper and the landscape turned from lush green to brown grass and rocky outcrops. And still I climbed up and up.

There were several viewpoints along the way where I stopped to take pictures of the view.

But as the road inevitably led to its highest point the nerves started to bite again. The wind blew stronger feeding my fears. The viewpoint a the top was full of cars but I noticed that this one, unlike the others I'd stopped at, had a wall. A solid wall. Solid. No edge. What a relief. To my right, hundreds of feet below, was a beautiful beach. Despite my fears I was gobsmacked by the sheer beauty of it all.

I relaxed on the wall and took it all in. I felt incredibly fortunate to be at such a beautiful spot on such a glorious day.

The thundering roar of motorcycles coming over the ridge was my cue to go. About twenty bikes arrived to take in the view and with them the tranquility of it all disappeared. I walked on to the bit of the road I'd been dreading the most.

For about the next 100m of road there was only a foot tall crash barrier between me and a very big drop. I don't have any photos of it because I was walking as though I was on a tightrope, trying not to look down.  After the first bend in the corkscrew the land flattened out and no longer fell away into a gully. I could relax again. As the road zig-zagged downwards toward the beach a few other visitors joined me on my walk.

I was happier the closer I got to sea-level. I could see the house we're renting across the other side of the beach and I thought it would be a lot nicer to leave the road and try to walk home across the sand.

I texted Tim and he said he'd meet me on the beach and we could walk back together. I wandered along feeling utterly delighted, not only to have made it, but to have been so lucky to have been on such a spectacular route on such a beautiful day. I didn't actually notice that there was a river running down the beach until I got to it. There was a bridge to get over it at the top of the beach right in front of the sand dunes but I was down at the water's edge. I couldn't be bothered to walk the whole way back up so I waited till the water was being pulled back to the sea leaving the stream at its shallowest and I ran across it. I did get a bit wet but it was worth it. 

I kept an eye on the end of the beach to see when Tim would arrive.  As I got closer, I noticed that there was yet another stream running down the beach and no real indication of how you actually get across it or indeed how you get off the beach. An elderly woman, walking alone, approached me.

"Excuse me," I said, "could you tell me the best way to get off the beach?" 

"Aye. Just keep on walking to the very end there." (She pointed vaguely in the direction I was headed). "See there's a little inlet there, go that way.  There's a wee bridge to get you across. Well, it's not a bridge really - more of a plank of wood.  It's very precarious. I wouldn't use it. Just follow that around and through the wee alleyway up to the golf course car park and you're away."

I was confused too but then I saw a man taking photos of me as I walked. I figured it was probably Tim and if he got onto the beach he probably knew how to get off.  

We found the wee "bridge". It really was just a bit of wood.

And it was a bit precarious too.

But it also was the quickest way off the beach. My feet were a but wet and I was in need of a cup of tea so I decided to walk back to the house for a quick sock-change and cuppa before heading off on the final bit of my journey today.

By the time I was ready to go it was 5pm and I'd already started to stiffen up. Tim expressed an interest in seeing Fanad Lighthouse so I suggested that he drive us both up to Fanad Head and I would walk back. 

It was a bit disappointing, therefore, when we arrived, to find that the lighthouse closed to visitors at 4pm. So Tim dropped me to the point in the road where the Wild Atlantic Way spurred off to the lighthouse and I walked the 6 miles back to Portsalon. It was a hilly little road with blind corners but it had very little traffic on it. It did have another Holy Well with statues and candles and rosary beads adorning it. I didn't  make a holy show of myself this time though.

My feet and back were crying out for rest as I reached my little rented cottage. Home again. Another day closer to Donegal Town.

Total mileage: 152 miles