Hail had rattled against my tent's flysheet overnight and I woke this morning to find a covering of ice drops fused to the nylon with solid pieces of ice moulded into its various folds. So much for the west coast of Ireland having a mild climate! Hailstones lay thickly on the grass in shadows for a few hours but eventually melted as the sun increased in strength, and I gradually shed more layers of clothing.
My day began with a long straight gravel track, in time rising up the hillside. Each side of me was moorland, rushes growing in a peaty, waterlogged soil. Several cottages stood a little way off the track in various states of abandonment and decay. Once the area must have supported many families, trying to pull a meagre living from the wet, boggy soil. Nowadays it supports sheep on the rough ground and conifer plantations. A few green fields show that the land can be improved by drainage and hard work but there is land more generous to the farmer elsewhere.
On cresting a hill I saw Lough Easkey, its waters enclosed by the hills around it. After a welcome bench and a length of boardwalk I joined a track around the top of the lake which led to a small, quiet tarmac road. On the other side of the lake a farmer's red van with its trailer was reflected off the still waters of the lake.
Later I passed the entrance to one of the many wind farms in the area. Their white, sculptured arms moving sluggishly or not at all today. I pontificated that they should be taller, like ones I had seen in Austria, rising to many times the height of the trees in order to catch the wind.
After dropping down into farmland I was on single track roads for much of the day which periodically rose up and down the foothills of the mountains that rose to my right. Farms and white single storey houses dotted the route. After a small lake, at the base of a furrowed, frowning hillside, I joined the road up Ladies Brae (some wit had defaced the sign by painting over the final "e"). There were expansive views for much of the day, but those from Ladies Brae were particularly good once I had climbed up it. Cars and a cyclist were stopping to look. I could see the down to the little houses among the green fields of the coastal plain and out to the sea beyond, Ranges of mountains stretched across the north east, one with a distinct "table top" appearance, with a flat plateau above steep slopes.
Finding a camping spot proved difficult. The sides of the road were fenced and "No Trespassing" signs hung on the gates. On the other side of the wire there were either trees, closely spaced in irregular ground, low branches and numerous plastic bags, or else tussocky, wet moorland. Eventually I opted for the moorland in an unfenced section, but I fear for a difficult night on the uneven mounds of vegetation beneath my tent's groundsheet. The alternative was a layby beside the road, but I could have attracted unwelcome attention.
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