Castlerock to Coleraine and home: E2 Day 28

After four weeks on the road, time to return home.

After a truly, enormous breakfast I started my nine kilometre walk to the town of Coleraine. A peaceful road walk all the way among fields. Better pasture than most I have seen on this trip, the growth of new grass this spring is adding to the lush greenness. Scattered houses, the Irish seem to like spreading out.

Road to Coleraine.

Coleraine had a river and neat town square but I did not tarry long. Having booked a flight I wanted to get closer to the airport before relaxing. I need not have worried, the train was on time and glided smoothly through the countryside to Antrim (closer to Belfast International Airport than Belfast). As only a short bus trip remained I visited a barber in Antrim's main shopping street. I wanted to look an attractive husband for my return home. Discovering I had been walking the barber told me of a trail race he had completed in the Mourne Mountains, very proud that his team had come second, but then he was a boxer so he was fit.

With some time spare I followed the river walk to Lough Neagh, learning it was the largest freshwater lake in Britain and Ireland. On the way I passed a "dog park", where various breeds were practising on a doggy obstacle courses, one for small and senior dogs, another for Alsatian sized animals. Crossing over a bridge I entered the Castle Gardens. Although the 17th century castle burnt down in 1922 in suspicious circumstances, the gardens are still impressive with a terrace, parterre, "canal" and interlocking paths along which people were enjoying a stroll.

Lough Neagh

Looking over "Six Mile Water" to the Castle Grounds, with some of the building's remains visible.

Catching the bus to the airport coincided with pupils of a local school going home. I was amazed that, seeing there were a few of us older people wanting to catch the bus, the large group of school children parted, standing aside to let us through. Courtesy is not yet dead among the young! Not that I am that happy being an older person, on principal I refused the pensioner discount at the barbers. After an uneventful, if slightly delayed, flight home, and another bus and train, I had a surprise. Despite the lateness of the hour, my wife and dogs came to met me as I walked back from the station, all seemed pleased at my return.

Cam Forest to Castlerock: E2 Day 27

A beautiful, sunny day for me to arrive at the north coast of Ireland.

I still had 30 kilometres to reach my Bed & Breakfast tonight, so I was up early and on my way by 6:15 am. Commercial forestry was the theme for several kilometres, rows of conifer trees, probably sika spruce, the favourite of the industry for its fast growth. However it was pleasant, sunny weather and I enjoyed the ramble, making good time. There were a few interim sections of road between forests. On one very fast road, the rare Sunday morning car could be heard from a considerable distance away, sounding like an aircraft taking off as it raced up the black top towards me. Fortunately there was a good grass verge.

Wind turbines beyond the forest in the pink morning light.

After reaching "Bishop's Road" there was the possibility of an optional loop through Binevenagh Forest, including a viewpoint above cliffs. However I had enough distance to walk without adding more, especially as my knee was feeling decidedly shaky, complaining with dull but persistent pain. So I continued down the long road, leaving the trees behind, the sea of Ireland's north coast in front of me, in the distance but slowly coming closer. 

Two police cars and a fire engine came by me. I reached the fire engine parked at the Gortmore viewpoint. In answer to my query, one of the fireman said there had been a gorse fire yesterday and they were back to check it was fully out. For a few kilometres I had been looking at the large inlet of Lough Foyle to my left, and the viewpoint gave an even better panorama. I could see as far as Scotland, one of the firemen pointed out the Isle of Mull (or was it Islay) on the blue horizon. There was also a statue of a pagan sea god with outstretched arms.

View across the mouth of Lough Foyle.

More road walking followed against a cold wind. Castlerock village, my destination, still appeared very far away despite my efforts (partly because I was looking at Port Stewart and not Castlerock). On this road I met my first backpacker of this trip, carrying a tent like me. He was following the Ireland Way which runs down the middle of the island of Ireland from north to south. In Northern Ireland it follows the Ulster Way. He was a little disappointed when I confirmed there was a long uphill section ahead of him. 

A little before Castlerock the path deviated from the road and my tiredness dropped into the background as I was distracted by a few things. Firstly by Downhill Forest the Sea Shack was selling coffee which I enjoyed with sticky Lemon Drizzle cake listening to the nearby peacocks squawking. Secondly, Downhill Forest was different to the commercial forests I had been walking through. There were deciduous trees, a lake, wild garlic and bluebells coming into flower, all made more attractive by the sunlight filtered through the trees. Thirdly, after Downhill Forest the Ulster Way follows the road, but I found a much more attractive route through Downhill Demesne, a National Trust property of trees, a lake and bog garden among other things (no payment required). 

By this route I arrived at Castlerock and admired its long sandy beach. From the start of Downhill Forest many people were about, enjoying a sunny Sunday in the woods or by the sea. However there was room at a café for me to have another coffee and a healthy bowl of granola and yoghurt.

Castlerock beach.

All that remained was for me to walk a few more kilometres to the Bed & Breakfast I had booked at nearby Articlave.

Dungiven to Cam Forest: E2 Day 26

Two mountains climbed today and a boggy walk.

I was apprehensive about today's hike. Dermot Breen in his book "The Edge" described part of it as "bog hell" in very downbeat terms. In addition to crossing this bog, I needed to climb two mountains and walk at least 30 kilometres so that I could reach Castlerock tomorrow and the flight I had booked home the day after.

Benbradagh was the first mountain, rising up behind Dungiven. I was soon pushing up its steep, bare sides, looking down from the road at the white buildings of the village below me. A hard climb but on a good tarmac on a sunny day with great views, so it was not too distressing.  Beyond the high point of the road the land dropped gently as the trail passed the foundations of an old, abandoned US Navy cold war signals base. Lost in thought I continued down towards a wind farm missing a turn. After retracing my steps the Ulster Way took me across a boggy patch and through a forest. There was then a lengthy section, mainly on road, before the second mountain, Donald's Hill. Cherry blossom in the gardens of scattered houses, a bank of daisies, an avenue of ash trees and similar distractions helped me on my way.

Looking back to Dungiven from the road up Benbradagh.

As I approached a road junction, two walkers, a father and daughter, came out of it, both touching the Ulster Way signpost (a bit of a superstition among some walkers). On my asking about the mountain and the bog beyond, the girl pointed to her wet feet. They said to look out for the posts (explaining that the direction arrows and Ulster Way symbols were missing from them) and also the yellow sticks that marked where the trail went. 

To reach the summit of Donald's hill was a steep climb, but at least the ground was dry, with either grass or apparently dead, brown clumps of heather. Halfway up there were two lime kilns and above them a limestone quarry. Examining them, and looking back towards Benbradagh, gave an excuse for a rest! A little below the top I rewarded myself with lunch (an "Italian chicken" wrap I had bought this morning), any higher would have been too windy. At the summit, braving a strong breeze, I admired the sights in all directions in particular towards Lough Foyle to the west, then I started the dreaded bog walk.

Although the going was slow, I found the bog better than I feared. Maybe it was dryer than when Dermot Breen was here, or maybe there were now more posts to guide you. Having a GPS also helped steer me in the right direction (strongly recommended). Part of the route was on a bank, raised about the wetness of bog level, and it was on this causeway that I crossed paths with a large group of men and women. They were on an ambitious hike of maybe 26 or 29 miles (they did not seem to be sure). Maybe their multiple footsteps made the rest of route across the bog a bit clearer.

Looking back across the bog at Donald's Hill and to Benbradagh beyond, the lighter strip curving in front of Donald's Hill is the raised bank I walked along. 

In time I reached the gravel roads of another wind farm. Here the breeze was strong and the turbine blades were turning briskly (going "wum, wum, wum"). Forestry followed with some huge stacks of cut timber, scatterings of violets on the short grass beside the gravel track and a collection of bright yellow arum lily type flowers growing in a ditch which, according to my PlantNet App were Western Skunk Cabbage.

Huge stacks of timber with lots of signs warning not to climb on them.

In the next forest, after a brief walk over fields and a road, it was time to start thinking of where to camp. The bed of green moss between the rows of some of the more mature trees was wide enough for my tent, but it was really spongy when I stepped on it. A result of its great thickness accumulated over many years, burying branches that had fallen into it. Instead I followed an abandoned side trail. Rather wet, but I found a moderately dry patch to pitch on. Midges were about. Visiting in April they have not been a problem, but later in the year I could foresee them being a great irritation (as I found when walking the West Highland Way last June).

According to my GPS my total ascent (the amount of height I climbed in total over the day) was over 1100 metres. While this was common on some long distance paths I have walked, it has been unusual for my current trip through Ireland where the route has generally avoided summiting mountains and where those mountains rarely exceeded 400 metres.

Crockbrack Mountain to Dungiven: E2 Day 25

A morning climb to the top of Eagle Rocks (Craig-na-shoke) followed by a bog walk, forest tracks, fields and roads.

When I left the tent in the night for a call of nature, beneath me the many tiny lights of towns and villages on the plain twinkled in the dark, it felt as if I was looking down on my kingdom, although not for long as it was too cold to stand around looking, and I quickly cocooned myself back in my tent and sleeping bag. Then as I left my tent this morning, high on the side of Crockbrack Mountain, I looked down on the misty lowlands of Northern Ireland bathed in a pinky glow by the morning sun hidden behind clouds. It looked beautiful to me, but the cold made me hurry on with cleaning my teeth and packing up. 

Morning view from my campsite on the side of Crockbrack mountain.

I slowly warmed up walking down into the village of Moneyneany. Too early for the shop to be open I kept going along the roads until I reached Moydamlaght Forest. There the Ulster Way took me up the mountainside on curling, climbing forest tracks. Above the forest there was a cliff, Eagle Rocks or Craig-na-shoke. The Ulster Way worked its way around it, crossing a stile of an unusual design. It only had one upright each side with blocks nailed to it for steps. Although it looked easy to cross, due to the lack of lateral support, I found myself swinging onto the top of the barbed wire I was crossing. My trousers caught on the barbs and it took me some effort to extricate myself, fortunately with only grazes to my leg, no blood as far as I could see. 

Unusual, single leg stile, more difficult to climb over than it looks.

Something less than a stile, another fence crossing with some protection from the barbed wire.

After scaling the ridge and admiring the scene behind me, trying to spot where I camped last night on the far side of the broad valley, I needed to find my way across the bog. Apparently Ireland has 8% of the world's blanket bog and finding my way across this bit proved difficult. Fortunately I could follow the track on my GPS as there was little evidence of one on the ground. On reaching a fence, with stuff wrapped around the barbed wire to allow a safe crossing, I found that some kind soul had marked out the next section of route over the bog with yellow painted sticks, sometimes with "UW" crudely marked on them. They were a great help, although they led over channels of sodden peat and moss, they did lead me to the remains of a stile into Glenshane Forest. A faint path then lead to a place where religious ceremonies had taken place. There was a small shrine to the Virgin Mother, and a cross marked "The Priest's chair" with coins balanced on the cross bar. Wooden logs had been set out as "pews". I thought it might have been a "Mass rock" where Roman Catholic services were held many years ago when Catholicism was banned, but it all looked too new.

The Ulster Way then took me down a succession of forest roads among the conifers, those still standing and those that had been harvested. Once they have cut the trees down and taken the good timber a lot of wood still seems to remain in jumbled piles. Could it not be used for firewood or pulped for paper? Debating such questions in my mind I somehow transitioned to the reform of the House of Lords before leaving the forest and changing my focus to finding the route over farmland and in particular where to cross a fence. The answer was at a wooden bar that provided slight protection from the barbed wire below. This was at least the third somewhat inadequate fence crossing of the day.

The path among the sheep joined a track, which transitioned into a quiet road that led me to the busy A6. I had been hearing traffic on the A6 for some time as I walked along the other side of the valley and worried that I might be exposed to the risk of a traffic accident on joining it. However, the authorities, no doubt thinking of me, had built a pavement so that I could safely walk into the village of Dungiven.

A cry of "help" interrupted my thoughts of coffee and cake as I headed down the main street. An elderly man was struggling to stay up and his wife needed some extra support. We got him seated on a window sill and I made sure he did not slip off while the lady called for her son. Apparently he had an irregular heart and this was not the first occasion he had lost his strength to stay up. I waited with them until their son arrived telling them about my walk and enquiring about coffee shops. Soon I was in one enjoying two raspberry and white chocolate scones with my latte.

Tonight I am in a glamping hut. Very nice in a blonde, wooden lined, Scandinavian, railway carriage sort of way, but expensive for a single person. In my research it was the only place I could find (apart from a campsite a little way out), but I have now discovered there was one B&B establishment my research missed for some reason. 

More memorials today and a mural celebrating the dead Republican fighters. High walls surrounded the Presbyterian church, actually part of a former police station. I found it depressing.

Gortin to Crockbrack Mountain: E2 Day 24

Much of the day on hillside roads with a valley below and mountains beyond, finishing with a climb up Crockbrack Mountain.

I left the campsite as quietly as my tent's zip and the gravel drive would allow so as not to disturb my camping neighbours. Then after a coffee from the local shop, my day's trek began at 8 am. Much of the day was on quiet roads, half way up the hillside. The first milestone was Barnes Gap, a pass through the ridge I was following where many roads seemed to cross. A rusted car wreck distracted from the rustic charm.

Barnes Gap.

After the Gap there was a long stretch of road along the side of a valley. Below were rectangular fields of grass, some dotted with distant sheep, white blobs against the prevailing green. White houses gathered around the busier road on the far side of the valley. Above me and on the mountains on the far side of the valley was moorland, or rather blanket bog, the peat and sphagnum moss holding copious amounts of water. Streams rushed down from higher ground, crossing under the road, cutting deeply into the hillside. A man in an orange earth mover was clearing the roadside ditch of mud and rushes, depositing the debris on the verge. A red fox was prowling across the fields parallel to the road, not scenting me at first as I was up wind, I followed for a little way until I was spotted and he took flight. The sun was out so my sun hat was getting an airing and for a brief time, my bare arms.

I had been noticing on this trip that when cars passed me on single track, country lanes, and especially when I stepped onto a verge to avoid them, the driver often raised a hand, or a finger from the hand on the steering wheel. I took this to be a greeting, or maybe a thank you for keeping out of the way. When I saw it in time I raised a hand in reply. (On the days after posting this I noticed that drivers no longer did this, a change in manners as I headed north?)

Towards the top of the valley the next milestone was a line of standing stones (Goles Standing Stones), erected next to a modern house, thousands of years BC for an unknown reason. A little after I stopped at the Goles Forest Car Park. I was hoping for at least a picnic table (my wild imagination also had a café and toilets), but there were none of these things so I ate my lunch leaning against a International Appalachian Trail sign.

Goles Standing Stones.

Crockbrack mountain was my next challenge. Being open hillside I was concerned about becoming "bogged down" in sphagnum filled holes, peat hags, water filled channels and other irregularities designed to catch my knee. Fortunately the ground was not too wet and there was a track for part of the way. Quad bikes or similar had also left tracks I could follow. From the crest of the trail (when I eventually reached it) I could see a huge distance to distant towns and hills. Too hazy for good photos but uplifting, making me forget the tiredness I had accumulated over the previous 18 miles.

The plain from Crockbrack mountain.

In this exalted state I wondered about pushing on through Moneyneany to the next forest to camp. However the hillside going down from Crockbrack Mountain was too good a place to camp to miss with its extensive views, remoteness and lack of habitations, and as it was around 5 pm I chose a flattish, dryish spot to pitch my tent.

Mellon Country Inn to Gortin: E2 Day 23

Although the Ulster Way went to Gortin by a lengthy route, it was one that provided attractive views in the sunny weather.

In a straight line Gortin was under 9 kilometres from where I started today at Mellon Country Inn, however the Ulster Way was to take over 22 kilometres. For the first 6 kilometres or so it was heading in the opposite direction, and that was not the only time today it headed away from, rather than towards Gortin. But this roundabout routing was worth it. After fields of lush grass, more prosperous farmland than that of my journey so far, I arrived at a forest where my climb into the mountains began. On reaching the high ground I could see for many miles thanks to the excellent weather as well as the height. Down on the distant lower ground, among the rectangular fields, the scattered white houses stood out in the sunshine. Bessy Bell, lost in the clouds yesterday, was standing proud today in all her finery, attended by a row of white wind turbines. To the north the mountains I was to cross in the next few days looked deceptively attractive in their moorland dress, although I expected my hikes there would be difficult in the boggy conditions. I was walking through the Sperrins "Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty" (AONB) and in today's weather it seemed to justify this accolade.

View down from South Sperrins.

One thing spoilt my enjoyment. From near the forest entrance I was joined by a brown and white dog. A jogger, who it been following before attaching itself to me, said that he would follow me for a while and then return home. By lunchtime he was still following (or rather walking ahead of me and checking that I was following). He wanted to play "throwing sticks", he offered several pieces for me to throw, which I ignored. I ate my packed lunch by some picnic tables at a scenic spot with a great view where others were eating. Ignoring him I hoped he would give up or join someone else, but no, he amused himself chasing cyclists and van's. When I started off again, he followed. Eventually I told him in no uncertain terms he was not wanted and he took off down a trail. A little later I realised I should have taken the same trail and had to follow. My confusion was because the Ulster Way was being rerouted. I passed the men putting up the new posts, and doing so very efficiently. So I ended up following part of the new route and then having to cut across to the old trail as indicated by my GPS. This led me down to an area busy with people enjoying the Easter school holiday near the Gortin Glen Car Park. There was a waterfall, a little ravine, attractive paths among the trees, a play area and a café (sadly with a long queue otherwise I would have bought some refreshments). As I left the area I noticed in the distance the brown and white dog following another group. I do not think it was the first time he had enjoyed meeting, and stressing, people here.

New Waymark posts being erected, they were quick but thorough, digging a hole with an powered auger, inserting the post, surrounding it with concrete and making sure it was vertical as the cement set.

On the other side of the road to the car park the track was quieter. It led through another forest, with some beautiful stands of mature larch and pines, the light falling through them making patterns on the grass below. On reaching the road again, the Ulster Way again took me in the opposite direction to Gortin to show me the Gortin Lakes. People were even swimming in them.

Path among mature trees.

Gortin Lakes.

On finally reaching Gortin, after buying a coffee and provisions from the Nisa shop, I had another two kilometres to walk to reach "The Meadows" campsite. After settling in, on the advice of my host I walked down from the campsite to the river to see the sand martins and the holes they live in at the top of the river cliff. A bit like swallows but not so graceful, they swooped around in the air above me catching insects as the ripples on the river sparkled, reflecting the light of the lowering evening sun.

Braden Forest to Mellon Country Inn: E2 Day 22

A sunny morning walking over bogs and along roadways, then it rained, so no view from Bessy Bell.

Although there was little frost this morning it seemed a cold night, however the skies had only a few small clouds and the sun was just rising with the makings of a good day. The nearby wind turbines were turning slowly with a quiet, repetitive moan as I washed and brushed me teeth in the nearby brook, trying to avoid falling in as I balanced on the rocking rocks. My legs were stiff and balance more precarious first thing in the morning after lying idle all night. Soon I was on my way through the last stands of the forest, loosening up my limbs, and listening to a nearby turbine which sounded as if it had a broken bearing as it clunked around. 

Beyond the trees a lake, silvered in the morning light, was surrounded by moorland and another wind farm, whose columns made a lonely house seem tiny. Here the Ulster Way left the gravel track to head over the bog. There was no clear path but in places the tracks of an Quad bike could be seen. Posts of various kinds intermittently marked the route. The ground was very wet and I had to tread carefully to avoid filling my boots with water, avoiding the bright green, saturated sphagnum moss and aiming for the roots of heather and rushes. Leaving the bog behind I walked on quiet roads looking down on the pattern of fields, the trees casting long shadows in the morning light. 

Lough Lee in the morning light.

Waterlogged, pathless bog on Bolaght Mountain.

View down onto fields.

I had hoped to shop for some sustenance in Drumlegegh as my supplies were dwindling, but despite being within the advertised opening hours the shop was shut, either for Easter or forever. 

As noon approached I was climbing through the conifer plantations of the Baronscourt Estate - "No Entry" a sign said unless you are walking the Ulster Way. By now the International Appalachian Trail had joined the Ulster Way. From this point the two trails are essentially the same. A sign said the trail was following the same type of geology as that in the Appalachian mountains in the USA, which is followed by the original, famous Appalachian Trail.

As I climbed up Bessy Bell, one of the higher mountains in the area at 420 metres, I could see the rain approaching, a white cloud consuming the landscape as it came closer. Soon the visibility was reduced to a few hundred metres by the precipitation. I passed a hiker coming down and on hearing I was following the Ulster Way, advised avoiding the route across the bog down from the summit and use the gravel roads created for Bessy Bell's wind farms. As he predicted, at the top there was little to see beyond the trig point, a radio mast and associated building. A soft whiteness embraced the hillside hiding any semblance of the distant views Bessy Bell was known for. I sheltered behind the building from the cold, wet wind that had blown up to add an extra layer of clothes as the temperature had dropped rapidly with the rain. Taking his advice I then descended to the wind farm road to avoid any accidents (twisted knees, broken legs, water filled boots) on the irregular and wet ground of the bog. However based on the new looking waymarks, I realised that the Ulster Way had been rerouted to take advantage of the wind farm roads, which pleased me as it meant I was not cutting out a difficult bit of the official route. 

As I progressed down the mountain the rain blew away and I could again see the surrounding farmland. I had not far to go now as I had booked into the Mellon Country Inn on the busy A5 road. Having enjoyed lunch and a shower I am now researching the next part of the route. After tomorrow the daily stages look progressively more taxing until I reach the sea at Castlerock. I am hoping I am up to the challenge....

Wild camp to Braden Forest: E2 Day 21

A day walking along roads with a stone circle as today's historic site, finishing in forestry.

Rain was still falling in the early hours of this morning but I was glad that it had stopped by the time I was packing up. The weather today was generally good with some sunny intervals but also rain showers. 

A little morning sun improves the scenery and one's sense of wellbeing. I tried to photograph the reflection of light off the wet telegraph wires that looked like curved lines of light beside the straight road. Sadly, photos do not always reproduce the beauty of what my eyes see.

Morning walk along the road, the low sun reflecting light off the wet telegraph wires.

A few kilometres from my camping spot the road dropped into a valley joining the main Belleek to Pettigo road. I stopped by a petrol station for a coffee and banana, not knowing if anything would be open in the village of Pettigo, being Easter Monday and a bank holiday. However I was very pleased to find the Riverbank café open so I enjoyed a second coffee and a scone, and also the use of their toilets (wild camping makes one really appreciate such facilities). Little things but they served to make a pleasant day. Today's route continued to wander in and out of the Republic. I dug out my Euros to pay for my coffee.

The quiet roads used by the Ulster Way initially followed a valley by green fields, periodic houses, a church and an old National School with claimed links to famous individuals. Then the Ulster Way turned out of the valley into the hills, including one called "Rotten Mountain", not that there seemed anything rotten about it. Drumskinny stone circle, seemed pretty small to me compared with others of my acquaintance.  In addition to the ring of upright slabs, there was a short line of stones and a flat topped cairn. Some of the stones were marked "MOF". I was unsure whether this was graffiti defacing the monument or the mark of the Ministry of Finance who were originally responsible for protecting the site (or possibly both).

Drumskinney stone circle and line of stones.

At one point the route went through a farmyard. Although my GPS track indicated that this was the right way (there were no waymarks on this section) I was a bit uncertain. However as I passed the farmhouse, a lady and child waved from their glass enclosed front porch, I waved back, no-one chased me, so I suppose it was correct.

A little later I entered Braden Forest where I met my first person out for a hike today. The man said "hello" and we exchanged pleasantries. Near villages I had seen dog walkers and joggers but few people out for a day's hiking and none with a rucksack for a longer trek. Maybe the time of year or the weather, or maybe the Ulster Way needs a bit more publicity, or facilities. Finding a campsite was not easy, everything was wet, mossy and soggy, and/or too uneven with old tree stumps covered in moss and tussocks of grass or reeds. Eventually I found a place beside a babbling brook, with a flattish area of only slightly damp grass, at the edge of the forest with an open area with wind turbines nearby. I was careful when pitching my tent to avoid damaging a nearby bunch of primroses. While waiting for my tent to dry, the farmer who had sheep in the wind farm area stopped by. His four collies ran up to greet me, jumping up to get petted. He said he had not seen many (any?) people camping here but thought it a good spot.

Evening view from where I made camp.

Belleek to wild camp: E2 Day 20

A day of road walking through farmland and moorland by many dark lakes. Conifer plantations towards the end of the day.

Full up on breakfast, I headed off on the Ulster Way. No waymarks today as it is not a "quality" section, but one "linking" parts considered better (Walk Northern Ireland's designations not mine). Most of the day was on very quiet roads (maybe partly as it was Easter Sunday), most vehicles were farmers in cars pulling a small trailer (possibly for a sheep or a sheepdog) or on a tractor with a bale of hay. Not the most direct route, the Ulster Way (and the Cycle Route 91 which it seemed to follow) was avoiding the busy main road from Belleek to Pettigo as far as it could. As such it moved in and out of the Republic, one could see why during the "troubles" this was such a difficult border to police with so many crossings. At times, on entering the Republic signs advised driving on the left in three different languages making one wonder which side they were driving in Northern Ireland. Not an exciting walk, especially as it rained most of the day with varying intensity, thankfully mostly gently. Nevertheless, my attention was attracted to the hedgerows beside the road. Hawthorn, just revealing bright green leaves contrasted with the dark green of the holly. Sloe was in white blossom, brambles looked like they would be vicious later in the season, snagging your clothes or bare legs as the grew into the road. Primroses, dandelions and celandine splashed yellow highlights on the green of the verge, white anemones colonised some of the banks. Looking closely I could see the tiny flowers of violets. Low walls were so covered with bright green moss, ferns and grass that the boulders of which I assumed they were once constructed were now invisible. Patches of gorse in massive yellow flower added brilliance even on a day as dull as today. Fields were darker shades of green where rushes predominated or a golden green in improved areas as the new grass pushed through the old. Moorland was straw coloured, russet or mottled brown by apparently dead clumps of heather.

A road walk today, but on little used roads.

Several lakes, or loughs in the local parlance, were close by the road. One I was able to sit by on a gravelly beach, enjoying my lunch while gazing at the peaty brown water. However most were behind fencing, all of Ireland it seems, jealously guards its private property. A more enlightened farmer perhaps, allowed access through their field to the meagre ruins of Keenaghan Abbey standing by one lough. Dating from the 12th century only the walls of the church remained. Beside it were graves, including one commemorating a "Fenian" who died as a result of opposing the British. Later, on the roadside, there was a memorial to Republican fighters killed in the more recent troubles.

A lough beside the road, inaccessible behind a fence.

Accommodation in Pettigo was all booked up, being the Easter holidays perhaps to be expected. So I am wild camping before the village, well before as I wanted to take advantage of possible camping spots in the conifer forests and moorland before entering farmland and more populated areas nearer the village. Finding a forest track with saplings growing up the middle I turned into it, confident that I was unlikely to be disturbed. However the area around the compressed stone of the track was waterlogged and uneven with rough tussocks of grass and rushes, making it unsuitable for pitching my tent on. A little further on, under a patch of beech saplings, unusual among the tight lines of conifers, there seemed enough flat space, that was merely damp rather than wet, for me to pitch my tent. As I began, having emptied my rucksack to retrieve the tent, a sudden, very heavy shower of rain fell, an outpouring of the heavens, soaking my tent. I had taken care to ensure the contents of my rucksacks were all in dry bags (now very wet in the outside), but the speed at which I erected the tent in the limited space so that I could shelter myself and my belongings, meant that its shape was somewhat distorted...and the ground proved not quite as flat as I expected. 

An old customs post, a sign I was repeatedly crossing the border between the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland.

Belleek rest day: E2 Day 19

Today I am having a rest day, so I am as fit as possible to met my target of reaching Coleraine by 25 April as I need to be back home by 27 April.

Belleek I discovered is the most western village in Northern Ireland and so also in the United Kingdom. Indeed part of the village on the other side of the River Erne is in the Republic, I can see the Irish flag from my bedroom window. Its main tourist attraction is its pottery, which was closed today. Upcoming local elections have resulted in a posters attached to lampposts showing pictures of the candidates, as if their appearance will inform you of how well they will represent their constituents, although I suspect much voting is based whether you have catholic or protestant antecedents. The village is similar to many I have seen on Ireland, a main street with a few bars, a Centra supermarket, a chemist, a café and a few shops. Two grey churches stand at the top of the main street, a Church of Ireland and a Roman Catholic church. Many of the churches I have seen on this trip have looked grey and uninviting, as if representing a more authoritarian view of religion. 

After a generous breakfast I bought some supplies and a newspaper and settled down to read almost every page.

Main street of Belleek.

In the evening there was music billed at 10 pm in the bar beneath the B&B, so I took a place with a pint of Smithwicks in good time. There were a mixture of ages in the bar. Ladies made up for a night out, noisy youngsters, one of whom seemed to have had too much to drink (or was stoned). I pitied the girl sitting next to him. Then there were older couples who no longer had much to say to each other and quiet elderly men like me, so I did not feel too out of place. At 10:30 pm a man began singing country and western with recorded backing music. At 11 pm, I went to bed, he was still singing in the bar below me as I passed into sleep.

Big Dog Forest to Belleek: E2 Day 18

For today's hike, 10 kilometres through forest followed by 15 kilometres of road, with periods of rain and drizzle. Not as bad as it sounds!

I woke up to the sound of rain drops pelting my tent, contradicting the cyclist I met yesterday who said it would be dry today! So much for weather forecasts. After dozing for a while I was blessed with an interlude between showers allowing me to decamp in comfort without the contortions needed to pack my rucksack within the small confines of my tent while it is raining outside.

Leaving Little Dog Mountain the track crossed the centre of Lough Nabrickboy on a causeway. There was even a picnic table and litter bin (although the bag in the bin was filling with rain water so I saved up my rubbish for later). There followed a winding walk through the commercial forest, with trees in various stages of growing and having been harvested. I was impressed by the amount of moss on some of the trees and on fallen logs, reminiscent of a fairy tale at times, or else a fantasy novel with the mist giving an air of mystery. Such thoughts were disturbed by two dogs bounding up to me, a husky and German shepherd who jumped up to greet me. The owners, out for a run, were most apologetic. 

Moss covered trees gave the forest a mystical air.

Forest track through mist enclosed trees, a frequent vista on my trip.

On reaching the road on the north side of the Conagher forest there is an optional loop through the Lough Navar forest taking in the panorama from the Magho Cliffs. Not that I would see much through the drizzle today. I had not planned to complete this 17 kilometre loop, and there was not time to walk it today and reach my booked accommodation tonight. Nevertheless an irrational feeling of guilt hung around me as I ignored the loop and started on the 15 kilometre road walk to Belleek. 

If it had not been for the poor visibility today, I would have enjoyed the sight of Lough Melvin from the road and the mountains beyond. As it was, I focused on beauty nearer to me, the drifts of daffodils brightening up the verge by a house, or the yellow forsythia in a garden. Wind turbines were slowly turning in the breeze. A flock of sheep burst into load "baaas" as I passed their field. Much of the road walk was by rough farmland with isolated, single storey, white houses, placed periodically. Thankfully there was little traffic until I was close to Belleek, where I joined a much busier road with fast cars coming around blind corners often with verges of limited or no width to jump onto. So it was reassuring to reach the pavement at the edge of the village. 

View from the road walk to Belleek.

 

Remarkably straight road.

First stop was the Lemon Tree café for a latte, goats cheese salad (I try and keep up with my five a day) and carrot cake (with cream and ice cream, justified by the 3,130 calories I used yesterday according to my smart watch, and it did not know the weight of my rucksack). Second stop was the Fiddlestone B&B where I am planning to stay two nights, giving me a rest day as I am feeling tired. My knee is also looking a bit puffy and its Easter!

Belcoo to Big Dog Forest: E2 Day 17

A walk through forestry on my first day on the Ulster Way in Northern Ireland. 

With 47 kilometres to complete over the next two days, I started late to avoid doing too much on the first day, lingering over a coffee I bought at the nearby convenience store. Once on the road, first stop was St Patrick's well at the edge of town. It was a spring in a pond rather than a classic well with a rope and bucket. Two streams flowed away from the pond in opposite directions (which I thought slightly odd, usually only one stream leaves a spring). You are meant to walk through the water in bare feet and pray to benefit from its healing properties. I did not bother, would it have helped my knee? On the trees opposite a variety of bits of cloth, clothing, rosary beads, pictures and the like had been hung. Not especially pretty unlike the horse chestnut tree just coming into brilliant green leaf beside me.

A long straight road led me uphill away from Belcoo, giving a view down onto Loughs Macnean, Upper and Lower, and the grey mountains beyond, indistinct in this morning's light drizzle. Then I turned into conifer forest through which I walked for the rest of the day. Near the entrance I saw my first Ulster Way direction indicator, a yellow arrow and a yellow fern motif, both on blue roundels.

Looking back from the road out of Belcoo.

I had been reading a book called "The Edge" in which Dermot Breen describes his walk, or self-styled pilgrimage, around the Ulster Way to raise money for Cancer Research. Much of the book is about his grief on prematurely losing his wife to ovarian cancer. My main interest was his description of the parts of the Ulster Way I was about to encounter. Today's walk he found a bit of a slog! I would not go that far (although I walked a shorter distance today than he did). Primroses brightened the path, a friendly dog accompanying two ramblers came to say "hello", and as Dermot pointed out Lough Formal was an attractive spot with the twin hills of Formal Môr and Formal Beg (big and little) rising behind it. Formal Môr had a path up so you could admire the vista from the top and a picnic table at the base. By the picnic table there was a post with various spanners and levers attached, presumably to assist if you had a puncture on one of the many bike routes in these forests.

View of Lough Formal from the top of Formal Môr.

After a brief road walk I continued my trek entering Big Dog Forest. The highlights of this section were two hills; Big Dog and Little Dog. Once there were two Irish Wolfhounds, Bran and Skeola, belonging to the famous, giant Finn McCool. Catching her scent they chased a witch. Though the witch turned into a deer she could not outrun the dogs. Irish Wolfhounds are pretty big and I guess those belonging to a giant are even bigger. To escape she cast a spell to turn the dogs into mountains, and I suppose one dog was bigger than the other.

A path led up to the top of Little Dog. At the top there were benches facing different directions with a white wall behind them to protect you from the wind. From these you could admire the countryside for miles around, all the way to the sea in Donegal Bay. Sadly today's visibility meant I could not see it at its best. I was planning to camp around this point and had not seen a good spot recently (strange how the good places to camp all disappear just around when you need them). Seeing a patch of green a little way beneath the summit, sheltered by young trees, I decided to pitch here. Not ideal, a little on the small side and not as flat as I thought, however, I managed to pitch my tent although it looked a little "skew- whiff".

View from the summit of Little Dog Mountain.

I had climbed back to the top to gain a phone signal to check in with my dear wife, and I doubted I would be disturbed again. I was wrong. On returning to my tent I met a lad climbing up. The place was not as remote as I thought.

Dowra to Belcoo: E2 Day 16

Disappointing at first today, but improved from the Shannon Pots.

Rain was falling most of the night, and even through I remained dry there was an air of pervasive dampness in the tent. Thankfully as I stirred myself around 6:30 am, the rain had ceased, although shreds of clouds were passing in front of nearby mountains. Later in the day there were even periods of sunlight, although mixed in with a brief shower.

I continued along the path beside the River Shannon. A merry picture of water tumbling over rocks, but it proved difficult to frame a good photos of it without including a plastic sack, discarded by a farmer. Although many efforts had been made to improve the path, such as installing footbridges and stiles, the ground itself was muddy and much disturbed by the hoof prints of cows. My trekking poles were useful for balance as I stepped from one stone to the next or one grassy lump to another.

The youthful River Shannon

Field made muddy by cows.

In time I joined a road, then another, leading me to the entrance of the "Shannon Pot", my first "sight" of the day. Here the infant River Shannon flows out of a pool, fed by water rising from underground passages. A feature sometimes seen in limestone landscapes, although I have encountered better examples in Serbia. The pool was rather overhung by trees, with a few drainage ditches emptying into it, so the full significance of what was happening was somewhat hidden.

Progressing over fields and hills the next area of interest was the Cavan Burren Park. The "Burren" refers to the limestone landscape. Although a good example of a limestone pavement was missing there was a sinkhole (a hole in the ground, maybe leading to a cave system). I noticed that as I moved onto the limestone there was no longer heather on the moorland. However the main attractions of the park were for me the tombs dating from thousands of years BC, slabs of exposed rock enclosing a chamber. There were also some large erratics, boulders brought from a long distance away in the ice ages by the movement of ice. After deviating onto the "orange path" to see the visitor centre and the highlights of the park, I returned to the Cavan Way for my descent into the village of Blacklion.

Remains of Neolithic "wedge" tomb.

Attached to the petrol station at Blacklion was a café which served me a welcome coffee and sandwich before it was time to check into my accommodation at nearby Belcoo, just over the border in Northern Ireland. I had thought to eat at the nearby Custom House but it was closed, apparently since the Covid pandemic, however Maguire's, the bar nearby, served me a steak sandwich. Unfortunately I am suffering from a tight, right buttock, made worse by my relaxing on the bed after arriving at my accommodation. I must have pulled a muscle somewhere, it made my walking back and fore to dinner rather lopsided.

Sligo Way, Ireland: Some Comments

For 81 kilometres the Sligo Way spans the eponymous Irish county. Falling into three parts, the first is among mountains and by lakes (or loughs) often on gravel tracks. The second is on quiet roads through farmland raising cows and sheep. I thought the best part, and the one I recommend if you only spend one day on this trail, was the third section, from Collooney this went through woods, around mountains, by Lough Gill ending at the ruins of Creevelea Friary and the village of Dromahair.

The route is well waymarked with a walking yellow person symbol, although a map or GPS track is needed as waymarks may be missed or absent at critical junctions. Underfoot the trail is in good condition although there is quite a bit of walking on quiet roads. Accommodation is an issue, I resorted to wild camping and catching a train to Sligo one night (however, I thought the town was well worth the diversion). Shops and cafes are almost exclusively in the middle section, around the villages of Coolaney and Collooney. Three or four days is needed to complete the route.

I walked the route in April, which avoided the midges.

My route on the Sligo Way can be found at https://www.wikiloc.com/hiking-trails/sligo-way-ireland-102443719 .

Bent over walking person waymark, with a sign for a Gaelic Athletic Association pitch.

Lough Gill to Dowra: E2 Day 15

Good progress today in three counties, 40 kilometres covered, dry in the morning then persistent rain began and never stopped, rather dampening my mood.

Of the three counties I began in County Sligo, waking to a joyous dawn chorus, not that it was much of a chorus as the birds were all singing different songs. Above my tent a robin was belting out periodic stanzas of high pitched song, a cuckoo echoed in the distance to a background of cheerful chirping and chiruping. Later I heard crows, coal tits and a song thrush, my identification aided by the BirdNet App on my phone. For the first time camping on this trip I only had two layers of clothing on in my sleeping bag, the second only added in the early hours, nor was there any frost on my tent. Although the sky was overcast, the avian orchestra sent me off in a happy mood, pleased with my choice of campsite last night.

After woods, rush filled fields, and roads I reached Dromahair and the end of the Sligo Way. Just before the village lies the ruins of Creevelea Abbey. Founded in 1508 it was finally abandoned in the 17th century, closure forced by the soldiers of the English Oliver Cromwell. I was surprised that the ruins still seemed to be used to bury people, a few of the gravestones were recent. Beyond the ruins a path through trees by a river delivered me to the village centre. Dromahair was blessed by a Centra supermarket that had a coffee machine and seats inside where I was able to enjoy some breakfast. Nearby I saw a van advertising "Boxty" products, which reminded me of the Boxty bread (made from potatoes) that my future wife had cooked for me to eat for lunch between my final exams at University. 

Creevelea Abbey with more recent gravestones.

Now in County Leitrim, I needed to reach my next "Way", the Miner's Way. I planned to join it in the village of Drumkeeran. In deciding on the route, there was a tension between choosing the shortest, or selecting one which avoided busy roads. My selected route was almost all on minor roads with little traffic, running to the south of the main road. They led me through hills among sheep and cows in  fields often populated by clumps of rushes. There were a few conifer plantations. I considered following a track through one of the larger plantations but on reconnoitring there was the usual "No Authorised Personnel" and "Tree Felling" signs. The maps also failed to convince me that the track went all the way through the plantation, so I stayed on the roads, although (as usual) I could neither see nor hear any evidence of tree felling in action.

Cows in poor pasture in the hills beside the lanes I was following.

Drumkeeran had a café open, so I settled in to a good lunch. The kind owner refilled my plastic water bladder and refused a tip! Gentle rain was falling as I left the café, and it was continuous for the rest of the day, at various intensities, but all of them wet. Possibly this affected my impression of the Miner's Way which I was now following a small part of. From what I could see from under the hood of my anorak, the farmland, like that earlier, consisted of fields of poor quality sheep and cow pasture. The roads the Miner's Way followed were unusually straight. In Britain I would have thought them Roman roads, but the Roman's left Ireland alone, never invading. A consequence of the undeviating progress was that that the roads went up and down some very steep sided hills. Supposedly a route once used by Miners, I wondered why they did not pick a more gentle path. A sheep with her lambs, and later a single sheep, annoyed me. They kept going ahead of me on the road as if I was herding them, and I saw the potential for me to herd them for several kilometres to a point far from where they belonged. Admittedly the walls, hedges and barbed wire designed to keep them in fields also prevented them from leaving the road. Eventually they did turn off somewhere. Maybe the roadside would look attractive in the sunlight, the sloe coming into white blossom, bushes and trees in green bud, sporadic scatterings of primroses, pale yellow against the green grass of the verge. Farther away I could see lakes dimly through the grey of the falling rain. Good visibility would no doubt improve my impressions of the Miner's Way.

My walk on the unnaturally straight roads of one part of the Miner's Way (in the rain).

Reaching the village of Dowra, with the rain and landscape making camping unattractive, I took the advice of the lady at the Tourist Information Office at Ballina, and asked at a bar about accommodation. After a discussion between the barman and two customers at the bar, asking at the bar next door was suggested. Then a seated man offered to put me up at his house, however it was 20 miles away. I did not wish to impose on his kindness and envisaged problems returning to Dowra for the next stage of my walk. So I declined, trying my best not to offend, although he probably thought me a funny chap!

Not being able to spot the other bar (at least not an open one), I gave up and started on the Cavan Way, for now I was in my third county of the day, County Cavan, having crossed County Leitrim in a single day. Unfortunately I had trouble finding a suitable spot to camp. After putting a bit of distance between myself and the village, the trees in the subsequent woodland all seemed to be sitting in puddles of water. The farmland also looked inauspicious. Fields of rushes, stones and mud, pock marked by the hooves of cows and sheep, and generally waterlogged. In time the route left the road on a path which followed the River Shannon. Not wishing to walk anymore I pitched by the path on a patch of uneven ground avoiding wetter areas, although with the continuing rain I am hoping the I will still be dry in the morning. 

My road route from Dromahair to Drumkeeran can be found on Wikiloc.com or Outdooractive .

Collooney to Lough Gill: E2 Day 14

Today was definitely had the best stretch of the Sligo Way; off road, through mountains and by the waters of Lough Gill on good paths.

As I  was unable to find accommodation at Dromahair I was planning to wild camp a little before. It was farmland around the village unsuitable for camping but there was woodland nearer the waters of Lough Gill. To avoid arriving at my planned camping location too early, I left Sligo on the 11:05 train for the short journey to Collooney. From there the Sligo Way took me into Union Wood. So very different from the regimented conifer plantations I had been walking through, this was a mature, mixed, amenity woodland, being enjoyed by a variety of people (including children so I assume the Easter School Holidays have begun in Ireland). Efforts were being made to encourage native species of tree and eliminate aliens such as rhododendron and laurel. As a noticeboard extolled the fine views from Union Rock, I diverted to this summit climbing up on its boardwalk. At the top, from the rounded outcrops of a type of rock called gneiss, there was indeed a panorama to the north and west. To the north I now knew that the "table top" mountain I had seen previously was Benbulbin, its flat top formed by a hard limestone layer. To the west were the Ox Mountains I had recently walked over.

After woodland for a few kilometres the trail entered open moorland, wrapping itself around mountains and exploring valleys. In sheltered places rhododendron had replaced the grass, heather and rushes of the heath. As the path was on the hillside, generous and changing vistas could be seen, now across farmland and villages, later over mountains. Considerable efforts had been made to create a good trail, with a lot of gravel having been laid to avoid the path turning to mud (as it was in patches where gravel was missing, encouraged by the passage of mountain bikes). There was also a bench, placed by a small lake, an excellent spot for lunch. Although overcast, only a few splatters of rain fell, enough to break out the waterproof over trousers but not enough to dampen the day's mood.

Lough Lumman, a lake with a handy bench for eating lunch.

At length, the trail dropped down into woodland, descending into a valley with a busy road running along it. To avoid the traffic for a while the trail shot up a very steep slope to join a minor road which made an equally violent descent to reach the main road, which was then followed for only a short distance. 

Lough Gill.

The highlight of today was the subsequent walk through Slish Wood  and subsequently around the southern shores of Lough Gill. My route was along the side of a steep hillside with the waters of the large lake, lapping on my left, and trees, mainly conifers rising up the mountainside on my right. Nearer the lake there were birch and other species. Signs today said they were ultimately aiming to recreate the oak woodland that once existed here before man's intervention. Towards the latter part of my lakeside ramble, a boardwalk took the Sligo Way over open moorland between the lake and the trees, which had the benefit that waterside trees did not obscure the view over the Lough. Of the several islands one was particularly famous. Where the Sligo Way eventually parted from the lake there was a special spot, a little jetty and an information board referring to the island of Innisfree, visible from this position. Famous as Yeats wrote a poem about it. The poem ends:

I hear the lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;

While I stand on the roadway, or an pavement grey,

I hear it in the deep heart's core.

I am not sure Yeats would have approved of St Angela's college on the opposite side of the lake. While I am sure it does fine work, its architecture does intrude on the bucolic landscape.

Isle of Innisfree viewed from the jetty viewing point.

I was approaching the point where I needed to find a campsite. A sign described some nearby patches of the "People's Millennium Forest", part of a project in which native trees have been planted in woodlands across the country to celebrate entry into the third millennium, one tree for each member of Ireland's population. I diverted into one of these, walking up a little used track (at least by humans, there were plenty of deer hoof prints). Finding a flat, dry area where the track began to fade I pitched my tent. On each side of me, growing among jumbled, green, moss covered boulders, birch trees and a few pines watched over my sleeping place in a kindly, gentle way.