Day 50: Renvyle Campsite to Killary Harbour Fjord (12.3 miles) & Day 51: Renvyle Campsite to Letterfrack (8.3 miles). All on the Connemara Loop.

I slept in till 8am on Sunday. Tim managed to get up and go out to the loo, slam Minty's door a couple of times and get back into bed without waking me. I was dead to the world. This is because I was 1) really quite tired because of all the early mornings and 2) I just sleep more soundly when Tim's around. Clearly my brain just goes, "Oh Tim's here. If anything goes wrong, he'll fix it." This is because that's generally what happens. Today he took his leave and went back to the UK. I miss him already - even though I haven't broken anything yet.

On Sunday, though, he was still around and a little bit of me really didn't want to leave the cosiness of Minty to go for a walk. The walk out of the campsite nearly finished me off - all up a very steep hill out onto a road that steeply rose even higher. My calves and ankles weren't really awake enough for that kind of carry on. It was a nice road though because there was barely a car on it and those are the roads I like the best. I walked into Tully and further on to Tully Cross before turning left and going downhill for the first time. It was a relatively narrow road and you couldn't see over the hedges initially.

The weather was very pleasant - overcast but warm. The road was fairly quiet and meandered gently until the sea came into view. It then followed the coastline as it rose and fell for many miles. I quite like the hilly roads because they present a challenge and that keeps my mind occupied as I walk.

The real interest began when I turned inland at Glassillaun toward two large lakes. The first, Lough Muck (no, seriously that's its name!) was my favourite. The road curled down into the valley and ran directly beside it.

The water was still and surrounded by large imposing rock-laden steep hills. It was entirely empty aside from one small school house  - although at the exit it did join with a higher road that had a few houses. It was a magical place. The only people there were a couple of cyclists, who whizzed by, a single bus driver who'd pulled his empty bus over to have a little break and me. I had shed my fleece as it had become so warm and before I left the peace of the valley, I sat on a tiny wall to have a little chocolate break and drink some water. Far in the distance a solitary bike slowly squeaked along. It was an old fashioned high-nelly bike with an older man dressed in a wax jacket, a flat cap and thigh-high waders. His knees bowed out to allow for movement in the wellies. He must've been passing out with the heat! "Lovely day," he said as he passed by on his way. I imagine he was going fishing although he didn't have a rod but I suppose he could just have been dressed for the Irish weather.

If I'm honest, I didn't want to leave this enchanted place. What ever was around the next bend couldn't live up to the tranquility of it. But  on I trekked.

The next lake along, Lough Fee, was far bigger and although it was beautifully picturesque, the fact that the road often veered away from it and a fence and marshy ground separated me from its shores meant that the experience of walking by it wasn't as intense or satisfying.  Or maybe I just felt bereft having left the magic shore of Lough Muck.

Soon the road took me away form the lakes and toward the N59 again. I played a sort of leap-frog game with a  German couple on bikes. They'd pass me and wave then they'd pull over to look at the view and I'd pass and then they'd pass again. The man of the couple likened us to the tortoise and the hare. But in this case when we got to the N59, the hares took off and left me in their dust!

The N59 was, as expected, horribly busy and I was stepping off it to allow the two passing lanes of traffic navigate the narrow bends, more often than I'd like. I knew I wasn't too far from the end of my walk so I just kept my head down and ploughed on.

The rusty post of the Wild Atlantic Way marker at the viewpoint at Killary Harbour signalled the end of my walk. I'd been here twice in the last few days and still its rugged grandeur took my breath away. It may be Ireland's only fjord but I think that's because when it was formed, Slartibartfast looked on his creation and figured, "I can't do better!"

I waited by the wishing tree for Tim to arrive in Minty. It was lunch time and I was hungry.

*

The campsite at Renvyle is the best one I've stayed at and I'm sure that that is another reason for the fact that it was 8 O'Clock before I woke up on Monday morning. We had to leave by 12 and the plan was that I'd get off walking early and that Tim would pack up and meet me later in the morning in Letterfrack. It was only about an 8-mile walk and I didn't anticipate that it would take more than a few hours. We'd driven the route the previous day so I knew what to expect. Most of that section of the Connemara Loop was high up in the hills on narrow little roads. When we drove it we didn't pass a single other vehicle so I was looking forward to the quiet and the undulating hills.

I left just after 9 am, exiting the campsite the opposite way of the day before. The road ran along the coast to Renvyle village before hanging a left and climbing steadily upwards into the hills. The grey drizzle that had forced me into a raincoat was little solace for the warmth of the day. The higher I climbed the worse the visibility got and soon I realised I was walking through low-lying cloud that shrouded the hills. The little roads happily ran up and down and zigzagged back and forth as I walked on. A young teenaged boy tried to keep two spaniels and a labrador from running out to greet me with tails wagging. I broke my oath that I would not pet any more dogs after being followed the whole way to Belmullet by a little scruffy terrier called Minnie. It's very hard to ignore all that waggy-tailed friendliness. As a result the poor kid had to hold on to the black cocker spaniel and the lab to stop them following me. STOP PETTING DOGS!

A little further on a great stretch of the road had been resurfaced even though it was only 10:30 am. I'm always astonished how fast roads get laid in Ireland. They weren't there the day before. I loved the info on the tar lorry -  (NAME OF COMPANY - Surface dressing and design experts). I guess it beats "tar-layers"! I walked on the newly surfaced road and of course my shoes got covered in sticky tar so every piece of gravel I walked over for the next couple of miles adhered to the soles.

Soon enough the road started to run downwards and the visibility increased. The first thing you notice when you leave a cloud is the clarity of the colours. Even though it was still overcast it was so much brighter.

The tide was a long way out and the shore lay exposed as I walked along. I knew I was coming close to the N59 again when the sound of traffic grew louder. The road I was on merged with the main road out of Tully Cross and ran down to the N-road. All of a sudden the sun broke through the clouds and the world emerged in glorious technicolour and really heavy traffic.

I mean horribly heavy. In particular the traffic coming toward me was bumper to bumper and because there were lots of hills and bends I was largely invisible to the oncoming cars. Scary, I tell you!

With one mile to go Tim came by in Minty and stopped to see if I wanted a lift. "It's only a mile," I said, "I'll walk it." I thought it couldn't get any worse but it did. It was awful! I have never been so glad to see the N59 because the road suddenly got flatter and wider. Also Tim was waiting for me just around the corner and we had the rest of the day - with all its fabulous sunshine to spend together driving around the tiny roads of Connemara. It couldn't have been more idyllic.

We ended the day in Galway, the city where I'd spent four years in university. After a perfect day we took a long stroll westwards along the prom toward the setting sun. The moon - almost full - had already risen and was bathed in the pink of the sunset as we walked. We decided to take a little drive to Silver Strand and watched the darkness fall and the moon rose over the ocean.

I think it was the perfect last day of a wonderful holiday for Tim.



Raising money for the RNLI on www.justgiving.com/Jane-Volker

Total mileage: 634.1 miles

Day 48: Gurteen Bay to Bunowen Pier (10.1 miles) and Day 49: Louisburgh to just outside Westport (11.5 miles)

On Thursday morning I was a bit groggy and my good intentions of getting up at 5:30am and being on the road by 6 am were lost in a soporific haze of half dreams and some loud snoring. I didn't sleep late or anything - I just didn't get up quite as early as I'd have liked. In fact I was on the road by 6.45 am so I suppose that wasn't so bad.

For once the weather forecast was for sunshine and for once I actually believed it. I didn't even bring a raincoat with me. I know! Living life on a knife-edge. Thrillseeker - that's me!

As you can see - it was pretty gorgeous. There wasn't a soul up or out and it felt like I had it all to myself for a few hours.

Well not completely to myself. The neighbours were out and climbing on all god's furniture like they'd been dragged up without a manner between them.

I was walking along on this very pleasant road without a care in the world. In fact when the cars slowly started to appear as the morning wore on, it felt like a huge intrusion into my blissed out wanderings.

Except this bit. Oh it looks very pretty and all that but don't be fooled - it was a hotbed of midge activity. I found myself frantically waving my hands in front of my face to stop myself from accidentally swallowing the little feckers. What, dear friends, could possibly be the point of midges? The only midge that deserves existence is Midge Ure.  Ah Midge. I first developed a crush on Midge when he was in Slik in the mid-seventies. I think I was about 9 or 10, and I still have a soft spot for him. I continued on humming If I Was and No Regrets (I happen to think his version was better than the Walker Bros. I know - controversial!)

There were a few flowers but not as many as on previous walks. I don't know what these are called but they are prolific in Irish hedgerows. The darker, more red variant appears to be the cultivated version on the smaller, orange one.

We called them tiger-lilies when we were kids. I'm fairly sure we made that up. Does anyone know what they're really called?

Before I reached Ballyconneely there was a little pier with a group of multicoloured boats waiting for the tide to come back in so they could go find some fish.

Just before Ballyconneely, at a bar called Keogh's I veered left to go toward Bunowen Pier. It always makes my heart sink a little when the road changes from perfection to windy and walled. I hate blind corners but they are particularly annoying when there's a large stone wall at the edge so you have nowhere to go when a car comes around the bend hugging it. This is the reason I don't listen to music when walking - I have to be able to hear when cars are coming. There were a lot of cars on this road. Luckily the wibbles and wobbles straightened out and the road widened so I was able to relax again. 

Before long this very impressive castle ruin came into view. Strangely (although I managed to miss it when I took this picture), it had a large bungalow in the garden. I expect the upkeep got a bit too much and they moved somewhere a bit more manageable.

It sat beneath a small hill which appeared to have a little structure on the top. As I walked further I found that there was a pretty lake on the other side.

The sun was still shining brightly although it was a bit chilly when I finally arrived at Bunowen with its crystal clear water and perfect sandy beach.

I walked down to the pier. There was a solitary fisherman getting ready to cast off from the pier itself. Every ten minutes or so another car religiously following all the viewpoints of the Wild Atlantic Way arrived at the beach. The occupants got out, took a couple of pictures, got back in, drove to the pier, turned their car around, then drove off. I'd say the average length of stay was three minutes.

I waited a little bit longer. It was very peaceful there waiting for Tim and Minty as I sat on a concrete post on the pier, looking over the bay.

The back of the castle was visible across the water. What a gorgeous spot to build the family fortress.

Soon a minty green vision arrived and I was whisked off for coffee and a little bit of breakfast.

The next morning was grey, wet and windy. Tim and I went into Roundstone for breakfast before bidding it farewell and heading northwards to Mayo. Having walked the whole way to Achill Island I skipped out South Mayo when I went to Clare at the beginning of the month. We had booked a B&B in Louisburgh which we thought would be a bit of luxury - a big bed, our own bathroom, cooked breakfast ... Although the B&B was perfectly nice and the landlady was incredibly friendly and welcoming, it was a bit disappointing to find that we'd booked a tiny room with a shared bathroom. However the weather turned nasty and despite the fact that there was only 12" of space around the bed, it was still good to have a break from sleeping in the van.

I woke up early and hit the road by 7am. The B&B was a good bit out of town so I got Tim to drop me to the edge of Louisburgh. As I looked along the road I could see, in the distance, Croagh Patrick, a site of pilgrimage as it is supposedly the place where St. Patrick fasted for forty days and forty nights. He apparently needed some "me" time during the busy period when he converted Ireland to Christianity.

The thing that looks like a nipple on the summit is a chapel.

However long before I reached Murrisk, (the place where you begin your pilgrimage), I had a lot of road to walk with beautiful coastline to see and fresh sea air to breathe. Across the water you could see Clare island and behind it the mountains of Achill.

That kept me busy for a while. The road wasn't too busy because it was still early and any way it was wide enough and apart from the odd wibbly-wobbly bit, it was fairly straight. It didn't feel very long before I reached Murrisk.

This is the path you take. It appears you go up the mountain next door and walk across the ridge before going up the last bit. A part of me would have liked to climb it. The conditions couldn't have been better - dry with clear blue skies. I bet the view is amazing. However I didn't  have time, wasn't wearing proper boots and I think that walking/ hiking sticks would've been handy too. So I wimped out. I vow to return some day though and conquer this mountain!

In the meanwhile it was still fairly pretty down at sea level. And it was getting interesting too as suddenly there were hundreds of cyclists whizzing by with ambulances and police escorts and Scoda support vehicles. I had to marvel at the stupidity of the three women on horseback who decided that it would be a good idea to cross the road in front of the hoards of cyclists.

"Oh sorry," the horse-rider in front said, followed by, "Hurry. Hurry!" to the other two, as the cyclists all screeched their brakes.

"SLOW! SLOW! SLOW! SLOW!" The shout cascaded back along the pack as the riders at the back started to catch up a little two quickly.

I'm pleased to say that nobody came a cropper and the bikes rode merrily on. I think about ten or twelve packs passed me each with 100+ riders. And of course in between there were smaller groups too.

Luckily for me the entire route between Murrisk and Westport has a cycle path and walkway on the opposite side of the road to the direction the bikes were going so I was safe as houses.

And there was lots of pretty to see.

Including this sight - sheep grazing on seaweed. I kid you not. They were munching away on it!!

 And there were rivers.

By now my feet were starting to hurt. My achilles tendon has started to burn after about ten miles these days and it was giving me gyp so when the path I was on suddenly hung a left and deviated from the nice straight road I was a bit pissed off. I'm all Monopoly-Go-To-Jail when I've been walking for a while - I like to go to my destination directly - Do not pass GO. Do not collect 200 of your referred currency denomination. So I was all "ah here now! What's going on?" I needn't have got my knickers in a twist because the path was just circumnavigating the tiniest cemetery in the WORLD! There were about 15 graves and the ruin of a church on a tiny patch of land.

The pathmakers were kind enough to let them continue to rest in peace. I'm cool with that.

I decided to stop and wait  for Tim to pick me up just outside Westport because I'd already done 11.5 miles and I was starting to hobble. And so I bid a fond farewell to Mayo, a county of incredible beauty, lovely, friendly people and a place that really knows how to do weather.

Farewell Mayo. I will return.

Raising money for the RNLI on www.justgiving.com/Jane-Volker

Total mileage: 613.5 miles