First Point- Wild Atlantic Way

Malin Head, the most northerly point of the Ireland, marks the beginning of the Wild Atlantic Way.  Here in the northwest region of the country it is extremely dark, unpolluted and perfect for star gazing.  Officially launched in 2014, the Wild Atlantic Way is a 1700 mile (2750 km) stretch of interconnected roadways that is as distinct as it is transcendental.

IMG_0015If you do find yourself traveling down the winding lanes of the Wild Atlantic Way do yourself a favor and turn off the GPS.  The route is well marked and if you do get lost, you might get an adventure within an adventure! So dreamy!

You will marvel at the crashing waves along the jagged cliffs and the sandy beaches sprinkled with sheep.  You will also enjoy a less crowded vista perfect for reflection and the peace you are looking for after a long journey.

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Aurora sightings are most prevalent during the months of September/October and March/April.  You can follow @Aurora_ireland on twitter for up to date Aurora alerts, sightings and browse some sweet pics taken along the Wild Atlantic Way.

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I hope to see more friends traveling, for longer periods of time, meeting, greeting and embracing other ways of life.

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Maugherow and the Secret Beach

During the week we let the canines run on the somewhat uninhabited Lissadell Beach. And. they. LOVE IT.  Lately we have been wondering what is further along the way and today we took an expedition.  We found Maugherow Beach, and that’s not all!  Loads of people traveling there to play with their kids, BBQ, paint, camp and enjoy the abnormally sunny day in May.

IMG_8747Have you ever arrived in a new place, set out to explore, not really knowing where the hell you are?  We came to Maugherow Beach one day back in November after checking out the cottage by the sea that we now call home.  I had no idea it was the same place, not a “new” place at all.

With my wee caption you get a sense of just how enamored I was with this area when we first arrived. We were lost in exploration,  the winter fog totally clouded Benbulben Mountain and it was so muddy we barely made it back to Kiltyclogher for the night.   Now, a season later, I didn’t even recognize the place.  So cool and still enamored BTW!

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The people here were an absolute delight.  As we walked through the grassy dunes, one artist with her palette and paints scattered, said to the other, “I am getting the horizon, plane and birdseye views.”  The other responded, “Yeah I can see, like, all the perspectives in one.”  If you can imagine.  I smiled with complete joy knowing that here, in this place, middle aged women were getting together to make art and not give a feck! (That’s Irish for fuck, for instance on the radio or in a professional setting).

 

Rolfe was able to play fetch with all the distractions- children, other mutts, hotdogs.  He is seven years old and still learning.  In this video my voice gets so high when he goes so far into the ocean.  I was so excited and scared! Such a nervous nancy I am!  Good craic, for sure!

We had such an awesome day and I am beginning to think the Irish rain is a myth.  It has been straight-up sunshine for a week.

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Note for travelers, I am just calling this Maugherow Beach, I’m just calling it that because it is otherwise unnamed by signposts. If you go through Carney Village, pass Lissadell on to Maugherow and take a left where a sign sits pointing right to Maugherow Church, you will arrive at this sweet spot.  There are also some old ruins that make a nice backdrop on an early winter morning!

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Hope you enjoyed my post! Until next time!

Hillwalkin’ and Cave Spottin’

Michael Quirke, a local storyteller and wood carver keeps the myths of this area alive for anyone willing to listen.  One day while strolling around town, I was lured into his shop by the hand carved figures and ornate storyboards displayed in the window. He began with a legend about two ill-fated lovers.  Diarmuid and Grainne were said to have eloped across Ireland, and their final resting place, a cave- high up on the back of the Dartry Mountains.  Now that the weather is warming up, I decided to check out the magic of this mythical mecca.

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Megaliths are sprinkled about, you can barely see the cave in the cliff behind me on the right.

Walking the lane of Gleniff Horseshoe, looking up at the cave, I imagined how tempting it would be to create a good story from this unique geographical feature.  Once you notice it, you can’t stop peering up at it.  It’s watching you, you’re watching it.  With something more like a soul, this cave sends out some serious vibes.

IMG_8466.JPGApparently before 2015 you could go up in the cave, which would have been amazeballs.  But maybe ruin the magic for me and/or I could fall to my death.IMG_8442The walk is about 6 miles in total.  Today was rather windy and overcast but still worth the fresh air and mountain views.  On a clear day you can see the Donegal Mountains, Mullaghmore and the Classiebawn Castle.  One thing I love about this area of Ireland is that it is underpopulated.  Prepare for a quiet roam with old ruins and sheep grazing.

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Found the shire!

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Super softy

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Geotrees

Until next time!

 

 

Fire in the hole!

Just days after I got the nerve to post about living in the van, the thing spontaneously combusts!  Rolfe and I were headed to town, I cranked the engine and it wouldn’t turn over.  I tried again and voila! it started, with an extra, special plume of smoke coming from the engine.

I freaked, hopped out of the van,  popped the bonnet to open her up and there was a small fire ablazin’.  Sweet!  I tried to blow it out. (stop laughing)  It persisted so I grabbed Rolfe and ran frantically around the other side of the house, expecting the whole thing to blow.  I spun around and round like a dreidel, dreidel in the meantime calling Molly, my landlady-neighbor to tell her, “The van is on fire!”  Still smoking, I secured Rolfe and decided to try harder to save the van.b76344cd-1853-4dff-a27d-64cf5fe03b2b-4986-00000b04efab6e29.png

I grabbed a hoodie that was still damp, drying on the line to extinguish the fire. Moments later, Gary (Molly’s husband of 41 years) arrived to investigate.  The electrical around the battery was completely singed.

Is this a sign telling me to give up my journey as a van woman? Naw, I think it means fix her up, get a sub-woofer.

A weekend without wheels in rural Ireland was great! Until it wasn’t.  The truth is without my veg going or the hens laying, food was scarce.  We took turns riding the bike into the village, determined to keep the coffee and ciggy stockpile fierce.

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I told Gary I’d look for a car on Done Deal (Irish Craigslist) and done make me a deal!  He said, “Now, I’m not telling you what to do but…” advised me to go down the lane to the neighborhood garage.  There I was greeted by two stately German Shepherds, and a genuine Irishman.  Genuine in the sense that he says ‘fuckin’ every fifth word and has a heart of gold.

Ladies and gents I am the proud owner of a 2003 Ford Fiesta and it is exactly like driving a go cart.  The car guy’s best advice was to give meself! plenty of time to get to town.  I thought he meant this as a precaution because I’d be wanting to turn into on-coming traffic, seated on the opposite side than what I am used to.  Or, I would have to get used to the clutch, but no, it’s because, it literally. takes. longer.  I feel so cute driving it like somehow I am petite. It has a sunroof, but it’s not electric.  There is a hook that I thought was for dry cleaning, or something but it is actually a hand crank which would be life saving in an unexpected underwater event.

I am thoroughly impressed with the Irish hospitality.  It is underpopulated and they make every effort to help you out, make you feel welcome and part of their lush rural haven.  Google actually gives hitch-hiking time travel estimates.  “Eye?” “Eye!” They seem to take care of one another, no matter where ye come from.

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Makin’ it to Mullaghmore

Benbulbin in the back, rocky cliffs in the front, Mullaghmore or An Mullach Mór is Irish for “The Great Summit” and a couple of villages away.  Whenever I meet a local, the conversation usually reveals two things 1) I am not Irish 2) I have not been to Mullaghmore.  With a free day and some curiosity Rolfe and I hopped in the van destined for this famed surfer’s peninsula.

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My iPhone retired itself a while ago, so for navigation I usually jot down the directions and then forget them at home.  Out here, the rural roads tend to be too tiny for two cars to fit fairly, therefore it’s always a game of who has the nicer car.  Generally, I am the one who has to go off-roading.  The best advice I can give for riding around these parts is if the road seems like somebody’s muddy driveway, it’s probably your best bet.

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The waves were dwarfed with no surfers in sight.  I admit, I was a bit nervous, alone, well besides Rolfe, with the wind and wide open ocean below the cliffs.  I was mesmerized for a moment, like the nihilist in me saying “just do it, jump in there, go back to the sea!! let it take you!! Life in meaninglesssssssss!”

I did spot one soul up on the cliffs. I passed him later by the beach, umbrella down, enjoying a little ray of sunshine.  In Ireland it’s always worth it to go out even if the weather seems crummy.

I took Rolfe down to the sandy shoreline.  There were a few signs posted that cattle could be grazing…on the beach.  I kept Rolfe on lead while investigating.  We arrived with windy rain and left the place in the sunshine, typical for Ireland.

IMG_7917We got our daily dose of adorable on the way home.  The new life roaming around this time of year is the epitome of cute.  They use a paint by number system to match the lambs with their mothers.  This kind of takes away from the ambiance of sheep sightings not to mention that this little guy will probably be ordered for dinner sometime soon.  My heart is still warmed by their sweet existence.

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I will return to Mullaghmore to see the Classiebawn Castle and maybe some rad wave BOMBS over next winter.  But for a first run, it was worth the go.