E2 European Long Distance Path through Ireland

Having walked from Galway to Belfast, I have demonstrated that existing national trails can be linked together to produce a more ambitious route that could be part of the E2 European Long Distance Path, extending all the way to Nice in the south of France. Starting from Galway on the abandoned Connemara Way, I joined the Western Way through Counties Galway and Mayo, which ended at start of the Sligo Way. At the end of the Sligo Way I made a short linking section to the Miners Way which joins the Cavan Way. This brought me to Blacklion and the Ulster Way which I followed to Coleraine. On a second trip I walked the Ulster Way from Coleraine to Belfast and caught the ferry to Stranraer in Scotland where the E2 continues.

As with any long distance path some parts were more exciting and beautiful than others. The Western Way from Oughterard to Westport, the Sligo Way from Collooney to Dromahair and the Causeway Coast Path were among the highlights, and all the hard work from Crockback Mountain to the Cam Forest on the Ulster Way was worth the effort. Rain and forest road construction probably dampened my enthusiasm on other sections. Although a lot of walking was on roads and forest tracks, possibly due to the lack of "rights of way" or "freedom to roam", legislation in Ireland, this was a lot better than walking over pathless bog, and the roads were overwhelmingly quiet and single track, aside from a section of the A2 on the latter part of the Ulster Way. I walked from Galway to Coleraine in April which avoided the midges which others have warned are a real problem later in the year. One downside was frost on some nights, which I did not expect based on average temperatures reported for nearby large towns. Rain was expected, Ireland catches the fronts coming in on westerly winds off the Atlantic, so I was prepared. However I also enjoyed many dry and even sunny days. I walked from Coleraine to Belfast in September, in weather which was largely dry and often sunny.

Almost half my nights were spent wild camping due to the lack of accommodation, whether because it did not exist, had not opened again after the Coronavirus pandemic, or was fully booked up (part of my trip coincided with the Easter school holidays and Ukrainian refugees were also being housed in Bed & Breakfast establishments). In some places the wild camping opportunities were good and tacitly accepted locally, if not entirely legal without the landowner's consent (whomever they might be). In other places wet, boggy land, tightly packed conifer trees, tussocky ground, barbed wire topped fences, farmland and frequent houses made discrete and comfortable wild camping more difficult. However with more research (I missed some opportunities), advanced planning, using buses to shuttle to lodgings, diversions off the trail and similar tactics the route could be completed with a lot less or maybe no camping. There are also luggage transfer and booking services on at least some of the route.

Compared to my first visit to the Republic of Ireland at the end of the 1970s, the country had become more prosperous, and in many ways, more like Britain. More white bungalows dotted the countryside; groceries were now purchased from modern supermarkets and convenience stores, and less likely to be from the village bar cum shop cum petrol pump; bars could equally well have been in Britain apart from the Irish accents and the lack of real ale from a hand pump; there were donkeys but they no longer pulled carts. Such is progress. 

My first visit to Northern Island was at the tail end of "the troubles", when I stayed on business at the Europa, the most bombed hotel in Europe. Thankfully the border was now no longer fortified, security was not evident and there was no longer the tension, the "edge", the possibility that you were passing a car bomb. However memorials and political parties on sectarian lines, showed that while differences are no longer the source of violence they have not been forgotten. However people did not raise the subject with me, and I prudently did not ask. However my tour of Belfast was a highlight, giving some insight into people's current attitudes.

Such matters are modern history however my trip also took me by older monuments: stone age tombs, a stone circle, a round tower and the ruins of farmhouses left by emigrating Irish. However most of the walk was about landscape and their villages - soaring mountains, dark lakes, dense conifer forests, blanket bog, sheep and poor grazing. An exploration of rural Ireland with the much visited Causeway Coast of Northern Ireland and the city of Belfast providing a contrasting experience.

Start of blog on walk through Ireland is here.

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.

Ladies Brae to Collooney and Sligo: E2 Day 13

A shorter walk today through forest and farmland to Collooney, where I caught a train to Sligo, childhood home of Yeats. 

Mural with a poem by Yeats in Sligo.

Despite the uneven ground, the best I could find on a wet, hummocky moor, I slept well, albeit in the same position all night, the only vaguely comfortable one wrapped around tussocks of grass hidden beneath my groundsheet. Windy but no frost this morning, and the day was generally dry even if the overcast sky spoilt the dawn.

Streetlights were still on in some distant town as I headed over a hill on a minor road. Although the first forests I went through were fenced off and uninviting, later woods might have made a passable camp site. However you never know what is coming up when looking for a place to pitch and I was soon in farmland that would have been unsuitable. Houses, mostly looking modern or in good condition, dotted the roadside in a sporadic fashion alternating with fields of sheep. Lambs were playing together, frolicking about in the fields ("gambolling" is the usual word used), still in their curious stage they came up to look at me. I stopped, thinking to photograph them. This alerted their mothers, who came over calling them back, and giving me a confrontational stare. I noticed the lambs and sheep had numbers sprayed on them, I suppose so the farmer knew which lambs belong to which sheep.

In my imagination the Mountain Inn in Coolaney had been an old, stone built affair among the foothills. Reality was a modern building on the plains, although mountains could be seen to the north (I was surprised the Sligo Way did not run along the mountain ridge, maybe landowner permission was an issue). The Inn was a cream colour similar to the surrounding houses (and church), giving the settlement a fresh, new appearance. It was also closed (although a smell of bacon cooking came from somewhere). My desires were however met by a shop near the centre of the village with a coffee machine. I drank my latte and ate my banana and hot cross bun on a stone wall by a Sligo Way noticeboard in a little square. Really I should have followed the Riverside trail but instead walked down the main street in search of coffee (my first for 48 hours).

Based on my map I had reconciled myself to walking on roads all today, but there was one stretch of "Greenway", a gravel path with low contorted trees beside it, and also primroses for a stretch. Later a busier road ran beside an abandoned railway line for a short way, some of the rails still in place. The council needs to convert it into a Greenway as well, before the adjacent landowners grab it.

Section of Greenway with primroses.

Maybe ruins of ancient town house.

After two nights wild camping and no immediate prospect of anything else for a while, I decided to catch the train for the short ride from Collooney to Sligo, where there were plenty of places to stay. I managed another takeaway coffee (and an over-baked mini Bakewell tart stuffed with berries) before the train arrived to whisk me away to the big city.

Sligo was a place to shop for food for the next few days. I also needed more batteries, my GPS ran through a pair off AA batteries in just half a day, whereas they usually last four days (maybe it was the cold, or the effect of condensation). I also visited the ruined 13th century Abbey and looked at the wall paintings around the town related to Yeats the poet. He spent much of his childhood here and the area inspired his poetry. 

Over an evening meal at a "Gastropub" by the fast flowing river that ran through the town, I pondered on the next few days. I had been unable to find accommodation and it was not the best country for wild camping....

Sligo Abbey.

Start of Sligo Way to Ladies Brae: E2 Day 12

A sunny day walking by moorland, farmland, lakes and mountains with views towards the sea and distant mountains. 

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. 

Abandoned farm.

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.

View from the route, the white bungalows on the coastal plain before the sea stand out.

Flat topped mountain to the north.

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. 

The Western Way Ireland, a few comments

The Western Way curves around County Galway and Mayo exploring some remote areas of Western Ireland. 

Splitting the Way into three quite different parts:

From Oughterard to Westport the Western Way is as good as the best long distance walks. It reminded me of the West Highland Way but with less people (and facilities). By lakes, mountains and a fjord this was an adventure in the outdoors. Oughterard, Leenane and Westport have good shops, cafes and accommodation. Divert to Keane's food shop at Maum for a coffee and sandwich.

After the cycle path from Westport to Newport the second part of the walk went up to Ballycastle. Possibly because of the rain, construction works and the busy N59 road section I liked this part least. However as it runs through forests remote from villages or facilities, it is an "experience". 

The final third from Ballycastle is mainly on quiet roads. In compensation it does give access to facilities at Killala, Ballina and Ballycastle for food and accommodation. An easy walk visiting a few sights: a beach, a tower, a stately home on the immediate route.

In general the Western Way is well waymarked with black posts with an image of a yellow person with a backpack and walking stick bent forward (like me). However in places these are missing for quite long sections so a map, paper or digital, is needed, ideally with a GPS and/or a smartphone to tell you where you are. The trail appears to be well maintained with for example sections of rotted boardwalk being replaced.

I found it difficult to avoid wild camping as accommodation is absent on some long sections. Although of questionable legality it seems generally accepted. I walked the route in April, when it could be cold at night, however I did not have the issues with midges that others report later in the year.

Update 21 March 20223: A new guide has been written on the Western Way in German, "Wanderführer Irland: Western Way – Fernwanderweg" by Sebastian Steude. Available from this link. 

Ballina to start of Sligo Way: E2 Day 11

Today I finished the Western Way and began my trek through the Ox Mountains on the Sligo Way.

Knowing I would be wild camping for the next few nights with no shops or cafés on my way I had stoked up on food, eating a large diner last night and a substantial breakfast this morning. This made me feel stodgy this morning and unable to contemplate eating for a long time. Breakfast did however have a bit of drama when the man in charge of the coach party, who had been staying there a week, presented the staff with a box of something. He pretended it was very heavy. Made me wonder what was in it.

As I closed the door of the hotel behind me the skies released a sudden, heavy shower of hailstones. But by the time I had clumsily struggled into my waterproof trousers the hail had all but ceased! There were a few short hailstorms during the day, and one snow flurry, but by complete contrast, also warm, sunny periods and largely blue skies, so I was not dissatisfied. 

My walk began at around 10:30 am. I wanted to start late as otherwise I would walk for too long, distressing my knees and feet, as I do not like to pitch my tent too early, before about 5:00 pm, as it may attract undesirable attention. However at 10:15 am the chambermaid walked in to try and make the room ready for the next guest, so I thought I better leave. 

Much of the day was spent weaving about on quiet, narrow lanes through agricultural areas. I was relying on my GPS to guide me as initially there were no waymarks. The little, yellow, walking person motif did appear on posts later, when the route began to become more interesting, climbing into the foothills of the Ox Mountains, revealing a view back to the snow capped Nephin Mountain and the associated range. Not a very direct route but it avoided the main road and brought me to a track that ran along the side of the mountains. 

Road to the Ox Mountains.

Snow flurry in the foothills of the Ox Mountains.

The last part of the Western Way was on a straight track, up and down low hills, probably the old road as the current road ran close by, picking easier gradients and weaving in and out as a result. After the entrance to a wind farm, emblazoned with the usual "go away" signs, the track deteriorated. Beyond this point it was more a path, waterlogged in places, the moss holding the water ready to soak my feet if I placed them in an ill judged location. I had put a dressing on my right heel where a blister was starting to form and I was hoping it would not get wet and turn into a soggy mess. My boots are meant to be waterproof and do hold out water for a while...and then give up and let it seep in! To avoid such an event I was trying to step on the roots of dead heather bushes and rushes, avoiding the bright green moss hiding beneath the bleached, needle leaved grass, as well as more obvious pools of water. Fortunately as the very end of the Western Way approached the path improved, long ago it had been built up above the surrounding bog. The scenery had been improving for some time. In the morning the roads were in farmland, but now I was walking up a broad valley, leading to a pass through the Ox Mountains, surrounded by moorland with areas of conifer plantations.

Pass through the Ox Mountains.

The end (or the start if you were facing the other direction) of the Western Way was marked by a notice set in a square of cemented stones. Very little could read on the sign as it had faded, or the words had peeled off, leaving fragments of text still visible at the edges.

I now had a kilometre or so of road walking, dodging cars, to reach Lough Talt and the start of the Sligo Way, my next Long Distance Path. The Sligo Way was announced by a legible sign, only slightly faded. After admiring the view of the lake (annoyed that telegraph wires prevented a clear photo) I walked up the road following the Sligo Way, marked by the same yellow person as the Western Way, until the tarmac road changed to a gravel track. Surrounded by plantations of closely spaced conifers and boggy areas, both behind barbed wire for much of the time, I pitched my tent on a small patch of grass between where the track curved right and the fences met a right angles. I cannot imagine anyone will be bothered with me camping here, and I was not expecting anyone to come by on such a quiet, out-of-the-way track but once settled in my tent two cars went by (or possibly the same farmer going each way to check on sheep) but nobody stopped. 

Killala to Ballina: E2 Day 10

A day on quiet roads and through Belleek woods and castle.

I left my B&B this morning at a disgracefully late 11:00 am, but I only had 9.5 kilometres to walk (I made a mistake somewhere as it was actually 14.5 kilometres, and my GPS showed that with various detours I walked 20 kilometres, and there was I thinking this would be almost a rest day). Before departing Killala I visited the unusual round, needle shaped tower, standing alone unconnected to anything else. Dating from maybe the 12th century a number exist across Ireland although their purpose is not known for sure. Looked like a watch tower to me.

Round tower at Killala.

Leaving the village I turned left on the road indicated by my GPS (and on my OutdoorActive App), however the expected sign or waymark was missing. There were signs for a Greenway. I reasoned that if I was deciding on the route of the Western Way I would follow a new Greenway rather than a road. Retracing my steps I left the main road at a Greenway sign. The new gravel track, neatly fenced, briefly joined the path of an old railway line, then meandered a bit between reeds and fields. A heron took to the air from a small lake as I walked by. There were a few black posts of the type used to mark the Western Way (made of recycled plastic at a guess), they were lacking any icons or direction arrows which were presumably to be attached later.

Bridge on Greenway, which was here following an old, abandoned railway line

Eventually the Greenway re-joined the small road indicated as the Western Way on my GPS, and confirmed by a later waymark. With a series of long straight sections, the road was also the route of Eurovelo 1, a long distance cycle path that runs from the top of Norway to the bottom of Portugal broadly following the Atlantic coast.

Eurovelo 1 left the road to run through Belleek Woods and I followed it for an enjoyable stroll among the trees. Several interesting sites caught my attention including a section of the Famine Wall, built to provide employment and food during the potato famine. Graves to dogs included "Phizzie" buried close to his master Charles Knox-Gore, they both died in 1890, Valhalla (inscription "Born in my hands, Died in my arms") and a memorial to all the Dorans family dogs ("Until one has loved an animal part of ones soul remains unawakened"). Belleek Castle had a café, so I stopped for a coffee and a scone (with jam and cream of course). On the side of the River Moy there an abandoned ship, the "Creteboom". Unusual as it was built of concrete in the First World War because of the shortage of steel. Nearby, only the ribs remained of a wooden ship.

Belleek Castle.

Arriving at Bellina I enquired about accommodation on the Sligo Way, the next stretch of my walk, at the Tourist Information Office. The ladies tried to be helpful but there seems little available on the route of this long distance path. In addition many places may not have reopened after Covid.

I stocked up with food as I was expecting a few days wild camping after tonight, then checked into a hotel. Checking my route today I noticed the Western Way website reports that the trail from Letterkeen and the Nephin Wilderness to the end of the trail near Bunnyconnellan was "closed until further notice", an entry I had not seen in my research before the trip. One assumes due to the road construction I had passed in the Sheskin forest or else planned tree felling. A rather lazy notice I thought as it gave no indication of when the trail might reopen, no alternative route, and as the section from Ballycastle onwards is on roads or similar there seemed little reason to close this part. Appears like an easy decision by some bureaucrat, I am glad I was not aware of it.

The forecast for tomorrow does not look to good, hail and cold temperatures, and the mountain of Nephin to the south looks like its summit is already covered in snow...or maybe it is a play of light..

My evening finished at the hotel with an after dinner singer getting the audience (a tour bus party) to sing along with "Sweet Caroline" and other favourites.

River Moy at Bellina.

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.

Nephin Wilderness to Sheskin Forest North: E2 Day 8

A wet day on some busy roads in the morning then deep into the Sheskin forest, far from any home comforts.

Looking out from the shelter from the warmth of my sleeping bag, munching on a breakfast of cheese and pitta bread, I could see an overcast sky above the pine trees opposite, rather than the pink of dawn I had enjoyed on earlier mornings. Rain was forecast but I made a few kilometres along forest tracks before it began to drizzle. Leaving the forest by a sign still saying the fire risk of the wet trees was orange and no camping was allowed, I joined the "Bog road" across the heath which stretched for miles towards far away wind turbines. At first sight the bog looked all the same, a flat, wet area of light brown vegetation. However I soon realised it was not completely flat, the road gently rose and fell. The vegetation varied from heather to rushes to bleached grass. Occasionally a few sheep collected together, a little disconsolate in the drizzle. Straight, low banks were evidence of past peat cutting. Peat was still being used as a fuel, earlier in my walk I had seen stacks of peat "bricks" drying beneath plastic sheets. I also saw long parallel "sausages" of peat, presumably dug out by a machine. At Bellacorick, a collection of a few empty houses and a long closed bar, there was once a peat burning power station. Now wind turbines, slowly turning nearby, generate the power, preserving the peat bog, which apparently stores large amounts of carbon. So by saving the bog, less carbon dioxide is released to the atmosphere and so less global warming. Bellacorick's other claim to fame is the "Musical Bridge". With the roar of the traffic (I was now on the busy N59 road) it did not sound musical to me, however a later sign told me I should have run along, dragging a stone along the parapet to make the bridge play a few musical notes. YouTube has some demonstrations of the phenomena. 

Bog road north of Nephin Wilderness on a damp day.

Walking along the N59 road for a few kilometres was an unpleasant experience. I jumped onto the uneven verge as lorries went by but the blast of air from their slipstream was a bit unnerving, as were the fast cars racing by.

Leaving the N59 I followed a track into forestry. Two lorries were driving up and down taking road stone for construction works further up the track. The ground shuddered as they went by with their heavy loads. Reaching the point where they were renewing or strengthening the gravel road my progress was prevented by a pair of JCB diggers, sweeping their hydraulic arms back and fore, distributing the road stone delivered by the lorries. Fortunately, on spotting me they briefly stopped work so I could safely pass by. Good men. There were road signs saying "Hard Hats must be worn" and "No Unauthorised entry" immediately before the work site but in order to follow the Western Way, and avoid retracing a lot of steps, I had no choice but to walk through the construction zone. I did not stop at the site office after the JCBs (with "Visitors must report to the site office" signs) in case they told me that I should not be there, which would place me in an awkward position. So I hurried on and soon I was up the road out of sight. For the rest of the day, maybe for 20 kilometres of forest, I saw only one car, and it did not stop, the driver just waved. Instead I spotted a group of four deer, who on seeing me headed off, leaping over the detritus of tree felling operations. Areas where trees had been harvested looked devastated. Branches, roots and trunks too small to be commercial were piled up in untidy jumbled heaps that spread over many acres.

Devastation that is left after harvesting the trees.

In the middle of the forest the Western Way followed a boardwalk for a few kilometres rather than a gravel road. The rain had made the wooden planks slippery and I took care to make sure my boots engaged with the  "u" shaped nails hammered into the wood. Towards the end of the day rain and drizzle had been falling for many hours, the gusting wind pelting me with rain drops. Water was slowly seeping through gaps in my waterproofs and exploiting the times when I reached for my camera or dug into my rucksack for an "Oatie" biscuit. Having covered almost 40 kilometres by 4:30 pm it was time to stop. Camping spots were almost non-existent, the trees were too close, or the ground too uneven as well as being behind barbed wire. In the end I chose an old "pull in" just off the track. No longer used the grass had grown over it. The rain had briefly stopped but furious gusts of wind made pitching difficult, hopefully my tent will stay up overnight.

Forestry track in the rain.

Newport to Nephin Wilderness: E2 Day 7

A day of rain and drizzle as I walked up roads and tracks to the start of the Nephin Wilderness, the route then became more difficult. 

Breakfast was not until 9:30 am at my B&B, so my departure was a rather late 10:15 am. It appears one resident could not wait this long and set off the burglar alarm trying to leave.

For the first 12 kilometres or so, the route was on a single lane road with little traffic, with excursions on tracks across sheep pasture. It drizzled or rained most of the time, but I was enjoying the scenery. Large lakes provided a view to my left until the route took me through a valley between substantial mountains. By the roadside last year's bracken was a chestnut brown, while the grass was a bleached yellow. The heather was brown with tints of green and in patches, still in flower! Clumps of reeds were shaded from green to reddish brown up their needle like stems. The wet weather had warmed up the colours. There was even a patch a white bluebells. 

Road to the Nephin "Wilderness".

On the boundary of the Nephin Wilderness a sign warned me that there was an Orange Fire risk and no camping was allowed, which could make finding a place to camp tonight difficult. A little further on was a car park, bothy, some picnic tables and a few people, one of them by a Park Rangers van. As it was raining I ate my lunch in the bothy. Although very clean there were no chairs or benches to sit on, so I made do with the edge of the fireplace. 

A notice said a one way system was in effect on the area's paths due to Covid, which would mean a longer walk around the "Red Loop" to join up with the Western Way further north. At the time I just accepted that I would follow these instructions, and started following the arrows that marked the start of the one-way system. I assumed without investigating that these loops were like others I had come across, easy walks for people with cars, not used to much hiking. I was wrong. I should have read all the details on the notices. The loops were long and over uneven ground. Large and small stones, boggy peat and overflowing streams made for difficult walking. It reminded me of the conditions that caused me to interrupt my walk to John o'Groats last year due to the damage they did to my knee. Proceeding cautiously by a river (which I would have admired if I was not trying to avoid slipping on stones) then across open hillside, making full use of my trekking poles for balance on wet rocks, and probing the peat ahead of me to see how soft it was, I made slow progress. Thankfully there were two bridges over the larger water courses, swollen by the day's rain. My first milestone was when the "Blue Loop" left the "Red Loop", a sign of progress. I was particularly happy when the "Red Loop" left the "Purple Loop", as the trail immediately improved. On entering the trees, first there was a boardwalk and then a forest track, and better still, they were now heading in the right direction. After a final climb down over outcrops of rock I joined the Western Way on a forest track heading north. Possibly I should have ignored the one way system and just followed the route of the Western Way from the car park.

Maumarratta in full spate, the stony path visible on is left.

Although called a "Wilderness" the area looked a lot like a commercial conifer plantation but with a lot more rules. One of the rules was that you should register to walk in it, but I could not get an internet signal so I ignored that one. Maybe they will make it more of a wilderness in time. This was not as easy as it might appear, pine saplings from the commercial trees were springing up in vacant land. Near my entrance to the "wilderness" there were extensive areas of rhododendron, not a native Irish plant but an invasive shrub that can easily spread if left to go "wild". 

Around 5:00 pm I reached the Altnabrochy shelter. An open fronted shelter, maybe similar to ones I had read about on the Appalachian Trail. Camping is permitted at the shelter if the fire risk is "Green", i.e. low. After all the rain today I was finding it hard to believe that it was anything other than low. Fortunately I now had a signal on my mobile. The Nephin Wilderness website fire risk had been changed from Orange to Green so I immediately registered for camping in the shelter obeying all the rules. I believe the emphasis on prohibiting camping when there is an elevated fire risk is wrong. Camping by itself does not cause fires. Fires, BBQs, cigarettes and to a lesser extent stoves cause fires, and these can be associated with people out for a walk, not camping, preventing such things should be the focus. When I camp I never light fires, do not smoke and do not carry a stove. I am not a fire risk. I was surprised that there was a fire pit at the shelter, as this can only encourage undesirable behaviour.

Altnabrochy shelter, you sleep on the wooden platform, note the fire pit in front.

I decided to just lay out my sleeping bag in the shelter as it was surrounded by hard core unsuitable for pitching my tent on. Evidently it was used by people with vehicles. A log book showed it had regular visitors, which generally seemed more impressed by the wilderness than myself, spotting interesting birds and deer. Maybe I just picked a bad day!

Camping spot to Westport and Newport: E2 Day 6

A day of three parts: a walk on remote tracks and roads; the environs of Westport, and the Greenway to Newport.

When I answered a call of nature at 2:30 am, frost was already sparkling in my torch light on the flysheet. My expectation, based on my research, was that the temperature would not drop below 5 deg C. I was somewhat out, maybe due to the clear night skies, dotted with stars. In the far distance a few orange lights wavered by some cottages I had spotted earlier.

There was plenty of frost as I set off a little before 7 am, the dawn hiding the stars but the sun not yet above the horizon. A mist had gathered over the three lakes at the base of the hill, below my camp site, making it look like they were steaming cauldrons. My path into the forestry, when I found it, led me down towards Lough Nacorra just as the orange sun was peeping over the distant hills, colouring the top of the blanket of mist, spread over the lake, a shade of pink. An indescribably beautiful sight, one of those that a long distance walk gives you, but which you cannot predict or plan for.

Dawn over Lough Nacorra.

The trail continued on forest tracks through trees in more mundane scenery, although accompanied by a powerful dawn chorus from the birds, eventually joining a little used road. Above me stood the mountain of Croagh Patrick with its stony mantle and church on top. A place of pilgrimage, for a while I shared my route with a religiously inspired trail to the top. Crossing over a ridge an extensive area of low, uneven land spread beneath me, the sea making an irregular incursion around islands and peninsula, and beyond that, the next range of mountains rose to challenge me.

Looking down towards Westport Bay.

Walking down quiet lanes I saw a flock of sheep enter a garden and start cropping the lawn. An eager sheep dog followed, and with cries of "cum by" and the like from the trailing shepherd, the collie soon had the flock heading up the lane. Soon after I passed an older gentleman with his dog, cutting back brambles straying onto the lane. I complimented him on his efforts to avoid people being snagged by these viscous shrubs, and he complimented me on my fitness in walking the Western Way. 

With contented thoughts and buoyed up by a coffee and banana from a petrol station, I followed the coast road by bays of still water, faithfully reflecting nearby trees and houses. I was now being joined by Sunday morning joggers and a few cyclists. My last stretch before the town of Westport was on a "Greenway". An old railway line, long abandoned, now tarmaced for the use of pedestrians and cyclists, and if the signs were to believed, many types of wild flowers later in the season and birds. Indeed a wren gave me a brief song before flying off.

A bay before Westport.

The main streets of Westport were full of small shops. Several shops had signs encouraging "Charlie" in his climb. Charlie Bird was a well known broadcaster with Irish television. He has been diagnosed with motor neurone disease for which there is no cure. Yesterday he led a climb up Croagh Patrick with many others raising an amazing two million Euros for a motor neurone disease and mental health charity. 

I was hoping for a café but thought they would be closed as it was a Sunday. I was wrong, a number were open and overflowing with people. Having selected one that looked slightly less busy, and, becoming frustrated by the three girls in front of the queue, who were having great deliberations as to what to eat, inquiring as to what the vegetarian rashers were made of etc., I avoided a long wait for my food by offering to have a breakfast roll that had been made incorrectly for someone else and had just been returned. Picking it up straight after paying, the lad serving my pot of tea said in a lovely Irish lilt that I had achieved the fastest service anyone would ever get in the café.

Leaving Westport I knew I had to follow the Greenway north, but I was confused. Initially the signs went west and then to the east, and they were Greenway signs not ones for the Western Way. After peering at the internet on my phone for a while I realised that in just a few more yards it would turn west again before settling down in a northward direction. Much of the Greenway to Newport ran beside the busy road and so not especially green, but it made for fast walking through farmland with no risk of a lorry running me over. Some cows gathered to stare at me (on the other side of the Greenway to the road), so I told them to get back to work making Kerrygold (Irish butter). Then I realised they were bulls. Fortunately no-one heard me addressing them.

"Greenway" to Newport.

Arriving at Newport, the blue and yellow flags of Ukraine was on display as well as those of Ireland, evidence of the widespread support for the country bravely fighting the much larger invading Russian Army. My landlord that evening told me that 20 refugee families were staying at B&Bs in the area, while looking for more permanent accommodation. I expressed the hope that the war would soon be over and they could return home, but he said they would have no homes to return to.

As I was settling into my room at an inn, a drizzle began to fall.