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

Day 10: Letterkenny to Rathmullan (15.1 miles)

After yesterday's little issue with the calls of nature I was, unsurprisingly, a little reluctant to get going this morning. I was still not quite right so I decided to have breakfast and see if normality had returned before committing myself to country lanes and their inherent lack of plumbing. My husband made me a delicious full cooked breakfast which I ate and then waited to see how my body reacted. Well my tummy rumbled for a couple of hours. No discomfort - just the noise of a system that had been unexpectedly cleared out not long before. I was sure now that I was fine. Alright - not sure exactly - more, I thought that on balance, the likelihood was that I was OK.  OK was better than not. So I got myself ready and Tim dropped me back to the little lay-by he'd found me looking colourless and exhausted in yesterday.

I decided to wear my new hi-viz yellow cycling jacket. I wasn't sure how waterproof it was but it had a lot of good reviews online and it was definitely windproof. I brought the orange poncho too. My attempt at waterproofing it had been entirely unsuccessful but you can't deny that it's greatest asset is how very visible it makes me as I walk on the road. As I got out of the car there was a heavy shower so I put the poncho on as well and walked off up the road I'd just been driven down.  Tim was going off to do a bit of shopping and exploring in Letterkenny. I asked him to find me on my route on his way home just to make sure I was still OK.

Having driven the route that the Wild Atlantic Way followed the day before, I decided that the road was simply too dangerous to walk. In situations such as this I've decided if there's a safer route available I will always take it. So I took a slightly longer route to Ramelton around back roads with very few cars driving on them. This proved to be a very good decision. Not only was I safer, the road itself was extremely pretty and had views that could not have been seen from the official route. It was about a seven mile walk into Ramelton. I knew by about a mile and half into the walk that my digestive distress had left me. I was definitely fine. By the time Tim caught up with me I was in my stride and happily waved him off.

The weather was sunny one moment, dark and brooding and given to showers the next. I did manage to ditch the orange tent for quite a while but as I came closer to Ramelton the sky darkened and the rain fell again. The wind always gets 'up' when the dark clouds come in as though they have their own entourage to allow them to pass through quickly leaving rainbows in their wake.

By the time I got to the town I was looking forward to a little rest before ploughing onward. I called into the first pub I came to called the Lennon Lodge. I planned to take my ease have a quick coke and use the facilities before cracking on. I do wonder what kind of an impression I make when I appear in situations where, perhaps, I'm not expected. For instance I was wearing a wide brimmed hat and an orange poncho as I walked into the pub. Imagine Clint Eastwood pushing those swing doors and entering the saloon in The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, in a poncho and a stetson, then replace that image with me in a my get up. I think that I heard that familiar tune and there's every chance that a tumble weed blew past. Every head turned toward the door. The room fell silent. I walked across it to find a table, Every eye followed me. I took off my hat and my poncho to reveal a day-glo yellow jacket beneath... that's when the laughter started. The only thing weirder than a drenched woman in a bright orange poncho is the revelation that she's wearing hi-viz layers. I unburdened myself of my small backpack, walked up to the bar and ordered a coke. As I waited for my drink a man sitting at the bar started to chat to me. He was missing several key front teeth but still he smiled at me and he said many words - none of which where indistinguishable from "Hur Hur Hur Hur Hur." I smiled back and said "hello," which only seemed to encourage him to say more sounds and then finish with a wide gummy smile and a wink. I have no idea what he might have said -  I like to think it was gentle words of encouragement - but honestly he could have asked me my thoughts on the Middle East or the Water Charges. Either way with my lame smile and nod, I took my drink and retreated to my table, feeling as though I'd missed a trick. I'll never know. When I finished my drink I paid a visit to the facilities before leaving. I met the man again as we passed in the corridor. More gentle murmurs, another toothless grin and wink to which I gave a sheepish smile, a brief nod and said, "bye now." I can't help but feel that this interaction would have been improved dramatically by the presence of a translator.

Ramelton is a very pleasant town with a wide, fast-flowing river coursing through  it. I took a few pictures and felt a bit sad when I had to leave. It was already half past three and I had another eight miles to go.

The road to Rathmullan was, in contrast to the one I'd just traveled, narrow and busy with fast-moving traffic. There was very little room on the verge for me to be able to step off should the cars coming toward me not seem inclined to slow down. I felt anxious and extremely unsafe. not far into the route I came across this sign.

This sign is what my Mam and Dad used to call a 'wibbly-wobbly road' sign. In the UK the sign for an upcoming series of dangerous bends is a triangle with what looks like a backwards capital N. In Ireland we  have the 'wibbly-wobbly road' sign. (I should say that that's just what my parents called it, It's not what Irish people in general,call it!) As a child I loved seeing these signs. They looked slightly comical and wibbly-wobbly roads are much more fun to drive on.  Not so if you're walking on them though because with every bend you become invisible to oncoming traffic. Add to that the fact that these bends tended to have no grass verge, only thick hedgerows, you can begin to imagine how hairy this road had suddenly become. The sign said they'd continue for 1km. I soldiered on half remembering that the road ahead would eventually open out to run parallel to the lake and there would be more room to manoeuvre. Unfortunately my memory from the previous day played tricks on me. After about a mile of treacherous bends I came upon another 'wibbly-wobbly road' sign, this time telling me that they would stretch on for 4km. My progress was extremely slow as I had to stop and step off the road, often into prickly hedges or onto a narrow strip of soft spongy grass that gave way to deep ditches. It was perilous, precarious and painfully slow. By the time the road curved around to run alongside the Lough I was starting to flag. My back started to ache at the ten-mile marker and my feet began to feel as though I'd been slapping them for four and a half hours. My body had had enough but there were still four + miles left to go. I had hoped to walk about three miles past Rathmullan before being picked up but by this time I knew that I'd call Tim to collect me as soon as I was through the town.

Then the sky turned black, all the mountains disappeared behind a thick grey blanket and it started to pour down sheets of cold rain laced with hailstones. Luckily the wind was blowing from behind me and slightly to the right so that I was shielded completely from the vicious onslaught. Strangely it was incredibly beautiful to watch the way the weather rolled in and out and left the Lough looking as though it had turned a milky shade of jade green.

Before I reached Rathmullan another hailstorm blew in. By the time I reached the edge of the town, I could barely lift my feet. They'd had it. I trudged through the town out the other side. As soon as I found a safe place for Tim to pull in, I sent out my 'come and get me' text and waited for my carriage to arrive.

The drive back to Portsalon took me through tomorrow's route which is over the edge of a wee mountain with the sea falling hundreds of feet below in some places. I would characterise the series of bends as more corkscrew than wibbly-wobbly. It's going to be tricky.

Total mileage: 135.2 miles.

Day 9: Burt to Letterkenny - (16.1 miles)

We (my husband, Tim and I) left home in East Sussex yesterday afternoon and drove to Holyhead where we caught a 2.30am ferry to Dublin. We landed in Dublin at about 6am and drove to the hotel in Burt where I spent my last night during my February walk before I had to leave in a hurry and abandon my last day of walking. It had been raining heavily the whole way from Dublin so I put on my full rain gear, bade my husband adieu and I walked the 16.1 miles to Letterkenny.

I am so tired right now that's all I want to write - the bare bones - we drove; we didn't sleep; I walked. But that doesn't really tell you anything...

We made good time to Holyhead getting there at about 11.30pm. We planned to sleep a couple of hours before boarding. We'd brought pillows and a duvet. What we didn't plan on were the constant interruptions - the two vans of pedigree dogs that all had to be walked whose owners yelled at every one; the two cars to our left that were travelling in convoy whose drivers and passengers spent the wait noisily playing musical cars, loudly talking and slamming car doors and the ferry workers who kept waking us up to move the car a few feet forward.  By the time we got on board we were desperate for some shut-eye. There hadn't been any cabins left when we booked the ferry. It was an overnight crossing on a holiday weekend so they'd all been booked up. However we did get on board reasonably quickly and we found a sofa at the front of deck 7 in a corner with no through traffic, far away from the usual hubbub of the public decks. We brought our pillows with us from the car, made ourselves comfy and started to nod off. The Captain's welcome told us that we were going to have a rough crossing. There was a storm on the Irish Sea you see and we were heading West as it was heading East. They were going to take a less direct route that would take a fraction longer but which would hopefully avoid the worst of it and they were deploying the stabilisers so we wouldn't be rocked around too much. I have a tendency to get seasick. However if I could just go to sleep I'd be fine. I curled up on the sofa with Tim and we nodded off. It wasn't long, before we hit open sea though and the vessel was being thrown about, slamming into enormous waves with thunderous bangs. My stomach remained good though. I did not feel nauseous. But the same could not be said for many others on the deck.  The children, in particular, were having a terrible time, sobbing their little hearts out, begging their parents to help as they wretched and threw up. I drifted in and out sleep,constantly woken by the sounds of another little mite being ill. Sometime around 4.30am the seas calmed and sleep finally came. We were woken an hour later as we made our approach to Dublin Port.

Although we were hungry we made the decision to get straight on the road and get to Donegal as soon as we could. The roads were remarkably clear but heavy rain battered us the whole way North. I stared at the sky ahead of me willing it to clear up. By the time we crossed the border into Donegal, the rain was easing off and we found a garage with a little diner where we got some coffee and breakfast. I took the opportunity to use the bathroom because I knew my walk today was on large, fast-moving roads with no sheltered spots for a discreet bathroom break. I must make the most of plumbing when I had it available. We continued on and it wasn't long before I found myself in the car park of An Grianan Hotel where I'd stayed my last night in February.

I brought a small rucksack with me to carry a few bits but I decided not to use it. I took only essentials - phone, camera, bottle of water, charger in case phone went flat and a few other bits that I could carry in pockets. I put the necessary barriers on my feet to prevent blisters, put on my waterproof trousers and my bright orange poncho and I was ready. With no more than a couple of hours of fitful sleep under my belt I walked off toward Letterkenny.

 

 


What little rain there was was soft and I didn't even have my hood up for most of the day. I made good progress and reached the five mile mark easily.  There was a garage here. I thought about going over to use the loo but I didn't need to go and it was across a wide road.  I knew there was another garage another five miles down the road. I could go for a visit to the bathroom there. By eight miles I was starting to feel the familiar ache in my mid back (where I now know I have a very minor scoliosis of the spine). I did the recommended exercises and I took a little rest on a wall and had a Toffee Crisp and some water and set off again. My walk was punctuated by light showers and people hooting their horns and waving at me. I'm not sure why, but I assume that a woman dressed in fluorescent orange marching along the hard shoulder of a road where cars can drive at 100kmph is worthy of encouragement. By the nine mile marker I was starting to look out for the next garage which I knew to be on my side of the road. It was with some relief that it came into view. However unlike every other garage I'd passed this one did not have a shop/cafe attached (and hence a bathroom) - it had a Euronics Electrical shop.

Sweet mother of fudge cake!

Nothing was desperate. I had time. I wasn't familiar with the rest of the road but it was a major thoroughfare leading into a big town.  There was bound to be another garage along the way.  Wasn't there?

Er. No.

I still had about 6.5 more miles to go and I really needed to go. So convinced was I that there would be access to indoor plumbing that I didn't take my recent purchase of a 'shewee' so that I could avoid the embarrassment of my last bathroom 'incident'. It wasn't ideal but I knew I could hold it till Letterkenny. Unfortunately with about four miles left to go the situation became unexpectedly urgent. My stomach started to rumble and become extremely uncomfortable. This I most definitely hadn't expected. Without getting too indelicate, I thought that particular daily event had already been taken care of. But whether it was the travelling, the garage-bought breakfast, the nerves of the first day or even the exercise itself, let's just say that this wasn't the kind of situation that could be handled on a dual carriageway.  I started to walk at a very fast pace. I was extremely uncomfortable. I knew that as soon as I got to Letterkenny there would be pubs, hotels and garages galore. I just needed to get there.

Then out of nowhere it started to pour out of the heavens. The wind whipped up and started pushing me off my feet. Visibility fell to near zero. I literally could not see two feet in front of me. It was sharp, painful rain. I couldn't see the road. I had to stop in my tracks and turn away from the wind. I ran off the road and hid behind a tree by the grass verge. I would have to wait this out. My stomach rumbled violently.  I couldn't stop. For the love of all that's holy I needed a bathroom and I needed it NOW. So I pulled my hood down over my head and I poughed into the oncoming deluge and gusts as quickly as I could. The first roundabout as I got to Letterkenny had a beautiful stone arch with brass statues on it. I didn't stop to take a picture. I saw a garage with a diner and I started to break into a clenched jog. I stormed in dripping wet all over the newly mopped floors and made it to the loo just in time. I shudder to think what would have happened if I'd been even 30 seconds longer.

Many minutes later I emerged looking pale and feeling bloody awful. I bought a sugary drink and sat down to text Tim to come get me.  I knew he was more than a half hour's drive away. The traffic was awful so I said I start to walk out the road and I'd meet him coming in the other direction. I felt weak and all my muscles started to cramp. I trudged on. The rain disappeared and as though to spite me, the sun came out and started to beat down on my soaking wet, sick and sore body. I struggled out of the town to where the Wild Atlantic Way started to wind its way north again. I came to a spot where Tim could pull in off the road and I waited there to be picked up. A few minutes later he pulled up. I took all my wet clothes off (the outer layer) and sat in the car so very grateful not to have to walk another step.

As we drove out of town along the road I would have to travel tomorrow I was alarmed at how narrow yet busy it was. It seemed to go up hill the whole way. When I got to the part that I would be walking the day after tomorrow my alarm turned to horror.  While it is stunningly beautiful it is a very narrow winding road with cliffs falling away to the right and mountains soaring on the left, I was nervous traveling it IN THE CAR. If the weather changes like it did today while I'm walking it, it'll be dangerous as hell. My head was too foggy to think through this dilemma. By now exhaustion was overtaking me. When we got to our rented cottage I was started to shiver and could barely move. I needed to do my stretches and have a shower. By the time I came downstairs I could barely keep my eyes open.It was 4.30 pm. I climbed under my duvet and tried to warm up while Tim cooked dinner. We decided to stay in and watch a movie. I slept through most of it. I was in bed at 8pm. I have to plan my route for tomorrow now. I hope I can keep my eyes open.

Total miles: 120.1 miles