Mám Éan to Leenane: E2 Day 4

Majestic views of mountains and a fjord today.

Path up to Mám Éan pass.

Dawn put on a stunning performance, pink beneath a layer of clouds, heralding another sunny day. My journey began with a climb up between high mountains to the pass of Mám Éan (Pass of the Bird). The guidebook reported that Mám comes from a Latin word meaning breast. A pass being like a lady's cleavage. Nestled on one side of the pass was a small chapel, the stations of the cross and what may be an outdoor alter. They are here as St Patrick once camped out here, like me but in 441 AD, and blessed all the lands below him. As I could see for a long way to the west, down to the distant blue sea, the blessed lands must have been quite extensive. 

St Patrick's Chapel and statue.

I continued down to a road, empty of traffic except for a minibus on the school run. The road followed a wide valley, mountains rising each side, the rock outcrops on the mountain sides smoothed by glaciers in the last ice age. It reminded me of Scotland and parts of the West Highland Way, but with fewer people. The only person I saw walking the road was a shepherd and his collie, rounding up a stray sheep. We agreed it was a fine day, cold but sunny and dry. I was frequently adjusting my clothing as in the sun I was hot so took off my jacket, then a cloud cast a shadow or a wind blew up and the bitter cold forced me to put it back on. But as I agreed with the shepherd, far better than rain.

Easy walking on a quiet road walk with Maumturk mountains to the right and Twelve Bens to the left.

In time the Western Way left the road and followed a track. A notice warned me that no dogs were allowed and if one was spotted it would not be just shot, but "Shot Dead, No Exceptions" (a pity about the sheep dogs I thought). Fortunately I had no dog with me and continued across the rough moorland on a good track, by the ruins of an abandoned settlement, and on into commercial forestry.

Beyond the forest plantation the track continued around the hillside such that I could look down on the waters of Killary Harbour, a long fjord with mountains rising up each side, clothed with close cropped grass and low rock outcrops. Lines of something were in the harbour's waters, possibly a mussel farm. Finally I sighted the white buildings of Leenane ahead of me (or was it Leenaun)? Soon I was sitting down to coffee and an excellent frangipane cake at the Purple Café. I ate outside as my nose had been running constantly all morning (or so it felt), I thought the people inside would not appreciate my sniffs and use of my now damp handkerchief. Then I pondered whether to visit the wool museum (which I decided against, it looked more like a place for tour buses) and went instead in search of a shower at my B&B.

Killary Harbour, an inlet of the sea.

For an evening meal I patronised the nearest bar cum shop. Although it did not look upmarket the goats cheese phyllo package, with a beetroot sauce, candied walnuts and leaves was good, and I of course had to sample the mussels grown in the local waters.