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