As we came to the final part of our trip along the Wild Atlantic Way and Causeway Coast we took a drive round Fanad Head. This took us first to The Pollet Great Arch.
Despite it being dusk, we wandered along the track from the carpark, which seemed to take forever, but it was so worth it. The sea arch was impressive, with lots of rocks to scramble over and great views. But if I thought the walk down to it was long, walking back up from the coast felt even worse. It was one of those gradual inclines that really hurt your legs. We were glad to get back to the campervan, until we started the journey to our next stop.
It was, and still is, the worst drive we have had to do in the van. We were on very narrow roads, winding along the shoreline, with steep, high drops in places. The weather was dreadful. Heavy rain meaning visibility was very poor. Even taking it slowly, Neil had to concentrate hard and it was very tense for both of us. I love the challenging drives, but in the dark, and in the rain, I was glad not to be doing this one. When we arrived in Rathmullan, we treated ourselves with cheesy chips from a food van, and a pint in the local pub. Despite checking, it turned out the chips were not gluten free, so my evening just got worse.
Rathmullan beach was lovely, absolutely covered in oyster shells, and the harbour looked perfect for swimming. However, after sleeping off the effects of the gluten, we didn’t hang around, and went to Letterkenny for 2 nights.
The GAA ground there has a great system, where you can pay to stay, and has access to power, water, waste water facilities and showers. I decided to dye my hair – bad decision. I put the dye on in the van. Then popped across to the shower out into the cold damp night, and the water was cold. I could not leave the dye on. It would have taken too long to heat the van shower, so I had to rinse my hair and shower in cold water. As anyone who has ever dyed their hair knows, it takes a long time to wash it out. I was so cold and my head hurt by the time I got back in the van. Thank goodness we have efficient heating!
While in Letterkenny we visited the Famine Museum. There was a sound installation exhibition there. So, by the force of the exhibitor’s personality, we found ourselves, shoes off, sitting on cushions, listening to old recordings of women telling stories in Gaelic. It made no sense to us, but was oddly relaxing. I am not sure if this is the strangest thing we have done, or making papier mache monster heads.
Manor Cunningham and Cunningham Newton were stops we had to make – my maiden name and the best name I have ever had. Sorry Neil!
Next on our route was Grianan of Aileach. This is a hill fort which has been rebuilt back to the original.
Although I prefer the honesty of ruins, it was interesting to see a complete hill fort, and it was in a beautiful setting.
We spent the night at Dunree Fort on Dunree Head. An old military fort, its name meaning Fort of Heather, it is set in stunning countryside. It was used during the Napoleonic wars right through until the end of the second world war, and was then used by the Irish Army for training until 1990. There was lots to see and explore, and we were invited to stay in the carpark overnight.
This seemed like a good idea, but was actually quite creepy once the fort was closed up and everyone had gone home. Maybe it was the thought of the fighting and lives lost, but in the dark, with the wind, it was spooky – in my journal I have written “maybe I should write a ghost story”.
We survived the ghosts of the fort and went waterfall hunting at Glenevin, followed by a wonderful dip at Five Finger Strand. The beaches in Ireland have some great names. Even Neil got his feet wet, but we both kept our coats and hats on.
I saw a sign on one of the beaches claiming the Atlantic sea is surprisingly warm in winter, with an average January temperature of 7.3 degrees. At the time I was not in agreement but, having since swum from lots of different UK and Irish beaches (and once in North Iceland) I can confirm it is actually quite warm.
Malin Head demonstrated where the Wild comes from in Wild Atlantic Way, with high cliffs, high winds and high waves.
Then we had one more storm to force us inland, one more beach at Culdaff, to paddle in the “warm” sea and we were at the end of the Wild Atlantic Way.
We arrived in Kinsale to start this, our first long road trip, on 14th October 2023 and drove into Northern Ireland on 11th December 2023.
We were very excited to reach the end of this road. It felt like a milestone, but Muff, the last village on the Wild Atlantic Way, was very small and we literally drove straight through it. Turning back, we took photos with the road signs and found a pub called the Whistling Pig. It was a proper locals pub, but they did serve Muff gin and we toasted our success (more than 2000 miles in a tin can without killing each other!) with a G&T, while a lovely gentleman at the bar, with a very strong accent and no teeth, informed us that all grandchildren need for Christmas is a fiver and a selection box. Must tell my grandchildren ……………….
For everyone who has been patient enough to read my blogs and get to this point, firstly, THANK YOU and, secondly, I am going to get Neil to write his reflections on vanlife and the Wild Atlantic Way. I thought you might appreciate a change of voice.
Neil here. How to reflect quickly on 2 full months travelling along the Wild Atlantic Way is an impossible challenge, so bear with me as I ramble on a bit.
We’d been living in the campervan, or as we lovingly know “the van” for over 3 months, summer months. Then we started this journey of madness, our longest to date, on the West Coast of Ireland, the Wild Atlantic Way. We’d had a few issues which we’d ironed out prior to beginning, so felt confident. However, things most definitely just keep on happening when your home is constantly moving, bouncing & getting wet.
Leaks, AA callouts, heating issues, shower issues and multiple winter named storms all hit us along the way. The storms occasionally drove us inland for safety. Though once caught us unaware on a concrete pier right by the Atlantic one night at the end of the Sky Road near Clifden. No sleep that night for us as we feared the van would topple.
However looking back those pale next to the magnificence of the Big Skies, Big Seas, Big Sunsets, Big Cliffs and Small Roads. My memories of these will live with me forever and will fuel my stories, often to be repeated as I get older.
So many places were wonderful; Achill Island, The Beara Peninsula, The Burren and most of Donegal especially. Also, the people. They were so generous and friendly. Even strangers welcoming us into their home for a coffee one day after a fun night in a bar. “You’ll know you’re at our house when you see the purple bike and the white gate” they told us. And we did. Gene Anderson at Anderson’s Thatch Pub in Carrick on Shannon was a lovely gent too, highly recommended if you’re ever that way for the music and the craic. As is John Joes Pub in Kilcar.
When we decided to move into a campervan we hoped for experiences that would last forever into our old age. We achieved this on this trip alone.
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