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