Sheskin Forest to Killala: E2 Day 9

After leaving the Sheskin Forest it was minor roads all the way from Ballycastle to Killala.

After a night of intermittent rain and gusts of wind battering my tent I woke to find I was generally warm and dry except for a disturbing pool of water on one side of the groundsheet. I thought it was either the tent or the plastic "Platypus" bag for my spare water that was leaking. My tent had a silly pole cover that was designed to prevent leakage through the main seam and the wind had broken the stitching holding it on one side, however I was not sure if this was enough to cause the leak. Investigations continue. (My later testing showed that the Platypus bag did not leak).

Several kilometres remained to be walked to reach the village of Ballycastle where I knew there was a coffee shop. So dreaming of coffee and cake I followed the forest track between the pines. A "No Trespassing" sign suggested I should not have been in the forest. Not sure who cares, a car passed last night but did not stop by my tent. 

After a final crest, the open countryside was spread out before me. White wave crests marked the edge of an inlet of the sea and as I progressed the houses of Ballycastle appeared, shades of grey in the drizzly morning light. Sunlight briefly lit a hillside beyond illuminating the pattern of green fields.

First sight of the sea north of Ballycastle, with some nice cloud effects, reminding me of some artist or other.

Disappointment! The coffee shop would not open for more than an hour. I walked up the slope of the main street. At the top a shop was open. Tentatively stepping inside I inquired if they had a coffee machine. They did! So I bought a coffee and a sausage and black pudding roll. While the roll was prepared the shop keeper warned me that a storm was forecast for today. I sat on a bench outside, glad my waterproof trousers protected me from its wetness. As I bit into my roll the rain began again. A rather rushed breakfast followed so I did not really savour my first coffee for two days.

For the remainder of the day rain periodically assaulted me, driven against my waterproofs by erratic gusts of wind, some strong enough to push me off my stride. I felt fortunate that the wind was from the west so it was either behind or on one side of me. But there were also sunny periods with areas of blue sky, once I even put my sun glasses on (briefly).

From Ballycastle I followed roads, many narrow quiet ones, often with grass growing down the centre, guided by Western Way posts where the yellow had faded. Around me the farmland was sheep and cow pasture. In the south the mountain of Nephin was prominent.

Quiet, and rather straight, roads after Ballycastle.

I had been reading a book on Irish history. A story so full of brutal wars, battles, massacres, famine and emigration it made me surprised that there were any Irish left! The occasional ruined houses I passed today seemed to show that people had left the area, although this was balanced by houses that looked new (two next to ivy clad ruins of earlier cottages). Two of the ruined buildings were in graveyards, I was sure there must be some story behind that. After the Vikings most of the wars seemed to be caused by England seeking to dominate Ireland however the French were not above taking part. On the roadside a memorial was dedicated to the first French soldier who died in 1799. (Later on my walk I read a book on more recent Irish history. In the decades following home rule in 1922 I was amazed that so many Irish people decided to emigrate, by 1961, an incredible 45 percent of those born between 1931 and 1936 had emigrated and 40% of those born between 1936 and 1941. Throwing off the British yoke of oppression does not appear to have brought fun and prosperity, at least not until Mary Robinson and joining the EU).

Abandoned house, one of many.

Red and green flags and bunting were adorning many houses and buildings. They were the colours of County Mayo. Apparently there was some big football match. Mayo lost.

My feet were hurting with approaching blisters as I arrived at Killala where I at last found a coffee shop where I indulged in a late lunch before checking into my B&B. This involved a little difficulty. The owner was not in and his voicemail advised ringing another number. So I had to dig out a pen and paper from deep in my rucksack to write it down while being battered by a freezing squall of rain. Safely in I could dry things out. This evening was a meal in a nearby bar, black pudding salad for starters. A lot of local people were there who all seemed to know each other, one was celebrating a birthday, she was either 41 or 51, it was not determined.

A really wicked squall of rain caught me walking back to my B&B. I was glad I was not in my tent.