Bloody Foreland - Breathe

Click on this image for our track in Google Maps

Less depressed than last week, on account that (no thanks to the people I asked for help) I sorted out a workaround for the software issue I had, and can move forward at long last. But Jeez, what and unproductive week this turned out to be!

Also, everything unfolded exactly as I anticipated, with people wasting everyone's time assuming that I had made a very obvious mistake, even after I had taken explicit steps to dispel that idea by mentioning that I had of course checked for X, Y and Z... So that's about one week of work wasted, as a result of waiting to see if any help would arise, which of course it never did.

That'll teach me to ever try asking for help!

I could actually point you precisely to where this whole story unfolded, since next to everything I do, software-wise, is public, but then I'd have to disclose another of the aliases under which I publish code, which I'd rather not do...

The foothills of Cnoc Fola (out of frame, right)

Anyway, back to today's adventure. It is a blustery rainy autumn day at home (which does effectively suit our mood) but nowhere near enough to deter us from wanting to go elsewhere, to experience the full blast of the changing season.

Therefore we are going to take a chance towards the west, which, as we soon shall find, and in a rare reversal of fortune, is going to pay off tenfold.
Then again it is fair to say that, with its all-hands-on-deck rugged landscape, Bloody Foreland doesn't need much in terms of sunshine, cloudscape or windgusts, to express its fullest oneiric nature.

But maybe I should start by pointing out, if you are not from these here parts, that you shouldn't let the name fool you as there really is nothing ominous about the place. For one thing, despite what one may assume, this section of the coastline hasn't derived its name from some kind of ghastly massacre, that occurred in the many troubled days of Irish yore, or from some grand tragic folklore tragedy, where coastal rocks turned crimson red after a memorable shipwreck.

Instead, the English moniker of today's destination derives from the translation of Cnoc Fola, a.k.a. the one elevated feature that stands prominently over the cape, that means "mountain of blood", presumably on account of the colour it takes at sunset.

All this to say, as we've already seen with the Poisoned Glen, that designation of a place shouldn't scare you, as there is yet striking beauty to be found, which might run afoul to one site's denomination...

Finally, since we have mentioned Cnoc Fola, I'll point out that climbing this hill can also be a nice treat, especially in fair weather, as it offers a very gratifying rate of reward vs challenge. But we'll leave that for another day, as we henceforth desire to witness the weary withstand of wave against wind and will therefore favour close skirting of the coast, where over-abundance of fractal sinuosity should keep us wholly satisfied.

Not much in the shape of a tree, to shelter one from the blustery wind...

But damn is the road leading to our starting point a pain in the ass to locate, especially when coming from the south (i.e. Dungloe). I always end up getting a bit lost around here, since every one of the small roads edging towards the coast could be the twin sister of the one we seek, and, as usual, I ended up picking the wrong one, before finally latching onto the one I was after.

Not that you can really go wrong on this shore anyway: every road leading towards the ocean will bring you to yet another entirely new landscape to discover, and a completely different view of the many abandoned and not-so-abandoned islands, some of whom sit about as close as a stone's throw from shore.

However, we do have a particular circuit in mind for today, so we need to get our bearing straight, which is soon sorted out by parking at our preferred and much deserted place, right in front of a (thankfully) deserted holiday home.

From this parking spot, we can already observe some ferocity in the waves that are engaged in striking the rocks. That's autumn for you, and exactly what we came for.

This does look like autumn alright...

The path to the coast is short, but we do make our usual stop for blackberries there, since they are plentiful around this time of the year, and ripe enough for our taste. Oh, and intermixed with blackberry shrubs, you'll find a bunch of these large (but sadly inedible) rhubarb plants around.

Man, I could go for a blackberry & rhubarb crumble with some whipped cream right now...

The gigantic Irish rhubarb

Yet, despite giving it to the call of our stomach, we have soon reached the shore. As expected, and even as its striking beauty in the breeze should make it a choice destination for any Sunday walker, there doesn't seem to be a soul on the coastal path. Heck, I'm going to go as far as giving you a full breakdown of the complete list of individuals we encountered during this multi-hour walk.

1. One young fellow driving a quad, along with what I assume to be his girlfriend riding at the back, early during our journey, and;
   
2. One young lady, from afar, when coming back.

That's it. That's the whole sum of everyone we met today. But you're never ever going to hear me complaining about that!

Now, when it comes to fauna, it is a whole different story altogether, starting with the countless seagulls that have elected to gather in the not so sheltered rocky bay we first pass by.

These seagulls sure seem used to the unrelenting Atlantic waves

Whilst the surf is certainly not giving them much respite, these birds don't appear to mind much. From this not so vantage point, we also observe some impressive crashing waves on the horizon, scorching the elongated tip of Inishsirrer just as it starts to glisten under a rare sunny patch.

The battered tip of Insihsirrer, under the capricious sunlight

With the ocean roaring nearby, we're feeling much better that we've felt all week already. Let's continue forward, as another mangle in the cloud cover lets us glimpse some more token of the autumnal gorgeousness.

"No windsurfing in this area"

As we approach the series of sparse low homesteads, that dot the coastline, we get some whiff of the turf burning that's taking place in a few of them. Whether you elected to stand in front of the fireplace, or decided to stand outside, in order to take in the breathtaking dimension of this ever changing landscape, you're definitely not in a bad place to be.

The absence of trees tells you that these houses and stone walls have seen some battered winds

Along the coast lies enough of a path, in terms of length, to keep us happy. Then we start a wet but agreeable climb back towards the road which, through the magic of elevation, starts to produce some magnificent views of Altawinny Bay and the cape that underlines it.

Altawinny Bay

We will of course head for the the cape you see in the above picture. Can't really pass a chance to get close to the wind after all. But before that, we also get a chance to look at the vertiginous cove that marks the end of the bay, and where a huge flock of seagulls is trying to find illusory shelter.

"I am a leaf on the wind..."

If I recall correctly, it is around this time that we start to get the first, in a series of small showers, that will occasionally wash over us for middle part of our walk. Even with the strong winds, it's not nasty enough to inconvenience us but, combined with the surf projections from the sea, it has the unwanted outcome of dirtying our camera lens (for which we of course forgot to bring a clean cloth) and therefore you may find that subsequent pictures become somewhat fuzzier in nature.

The ethereal beauty of this place is more than enough to compensate for this small hiccup however.

The shower we just went through is departing on the left... And another is coming, off-frame right.

From the top of the cape we also manage to get some very good close ups of Tory Island:

If you ever visit it, know that there are puffins on the east-side cliffs of Tory Island

The view from our new standpoint, with more ominous showers looming on the horizon, along with the occasional sunshine, probably isn't too far from what you'd expect from an Irish coastal landscape.

Do I really need a caption?

But hey, since we are standing proudly on the battered north-western tip of Ireland, we might as well go all the way to whatever that large concrete-built meteorological (?) relay-station, that we've been looking straight at for some time, actually is. After all, it happens to be the one element, in this rugged landscape, that's apt at providing us with (limited) shelter from drizzle and wind.

"Whatever it is, it ain't local"

And since that construct is not that far away from the delineation between land and sea, it allows us to observe some more ferocious waves crashing close by:

Why can't I shake the feeling that we might be just one large surge short from being swept away?

Yet this is the time that the late evening sun decides that it's been playing hide and seek long enough, and graces us with its extended presence.

Come on now. You can do it!

The skies may not be as crimson red as the name of this place hints at, but the effect it definitely not lost on the lone wandered that we are...

"Mauve and Golden Foreland" may not quite have the same ring to it

As we slowly make our way back, in an ever more stunning light, we conclude that we certainly made a good choice coming here, to get our healthy fix of autumn. It may be that a quartet of Irish folks have yet to find what they've been looking for, but, for once, we ourselves sure have...

Another trip well spent

Suggested Sound Track

Midge Ure - Breathe

I wouldn't call this a lyrical or even musical masterpiece, but I can't help finding some enjoyment in that, with its syncopated syllables as well as stanzas that appear a fraction of a second off during the refrain, a song about breathing seems to have made a deliberate choice of using a subtly misplaced rythm all over its vocal track... Or maybe I'm just reading way too much into it.

At any rate, it does fit the change of mood we were going for, and that's all that matters.

Additional Pictures

Knockalla in the clouds - It's all over

Click on this image for our track in Google Maps

Much later than I'd like. But then again, this seems to be becoming a habit...

I was on a roll with a project of mine, which I was smoothly letting unroll whilst making tremendous strides. But suddenly, I had to stop in my tracks as I had no choice but to ask others for help.

As a programmer, when you're in the groove, this is your worst nightmare ...

The reason asking for help is such a showstopper is not because one may be inclined to loathe people (well, at least, not entirely) or because it forces you to communicate with other mortals (which isn't that big a deal) but rather because, once you leave the zone you find that everybody else is just too damn slow to catch up and even worse, if you are an experienced programmer, that the folks you ask for help might need much convincing before they come to the realization that, if you used the last resort of asking for their help, it's because the issue you encountered resides squarely on their side and is entirely theirs to fix.

Bottom line; by the time they do catch up with you, if they ever do catch up with you, it's going to be way, way too late...

In other words, help, if it arrives at all, is going to be as meaningless as an intelligence telegram announcing that Pearl Harbour might be attacked... that only gets dispatched hours after the actual attack. And that's why my friends, as a diligent software developer, if you do reach a point where you have no choice but to ask for help, you're screwed.

So this is frustrating. Most likely, I am going to have to waste tons resources and time to prove to some guys, who probably are going to reject it at first (Note, since I am writing this with much delay; this is exactly what happened), that the issue is entirely theirs to solve, on top of the injury of no longer being able to progress on that project at all, since, if had any kind of workaround, I wouldn't be bothering to ask for assistance. I don't necessarily hold a grudge towards the people trying to help, but I can't help but feel a tad annoyed when I have to point to some people, 3 times in a row (which, there too, is exactly what happened) that their dismissive "analysis" of the issue being squarely on my end is way off mark.

What's that saying again? "Show me a medical student who only triples my work and I will kiss his feet"? Well, show me a group of framework developers that only triples my work, and I will sing their praise until the end of times...

So, yeah, pardon me for feeling a bit depressed after seeing that much effort come to an untimely premature end, as well as anticipating the much greater endeavour I'm going to have to devote resources to in order to have a bunch of people finally realize that they dug everybody into a ditch.

The other end result of the above is that I am not that entirely willing to go for a walk (or even blogging about it) especially when, there's an abundance of low clouds and drizzle today, that doesn't exactly help with the overall mood...

Yeah, everything's moody alright.

Still, if we must go, let's go. Besides, what else am I going to spend the rest of my afternoon on, now?

And since our whole world has just been toggled back to "slow", our start for this walk will be a slow one as well on account of... blackberries. This is a blackberry spot after all, and I haven't had my fill this year either. Alas, even this late in the season, most of them are still not ripe enough.

Next year, maybe. Next year, maybe...

In case you haven't noticed, I'm in a bad mood, so don't you get started about my horizon being crooked.

Now, I am quite familiar with this place, which I picked because it's too late to go to exploring new horizons. I do happen to come here very often after all since it's one of these places that's close to home, yet isolated enough enough for my taste (as long as you discount the ever present sheep grazing around) and with enough of a climb to keep a lone wanderer satisfied.

As a matter of fact, because of the frequency with which I climb here, I am going to try for an alternate route to the summit today, so as to introduce some much needed change to this dull routine of yet another pointless day. The hope is that this might bring a little bit of much needed fun into what has turned out to be a dull grey affair, especially once we start to reach the gap. However, that gap is something we can't see right now, on account the clouds engulfed it. Still, with the barrage of visitors I've had lately, I haven't done much strenuous walking of late so, regardless of the conditions, this might lighten our mood somewhat.

Thus, our plan for today is to ascend right smack down the middle of what you see below:

Come at me, bro!

The first part of our climb is its usual self, with a damp yet inviting path, as well as the aforementioned ever grazing sheep, that somehow always seem surprised to find me walking here  and hastily retreat to the furthest part of the field.

If I recall correctly, the last time I did this direct route, I did encountered some deer, idling lazily between high ferns and presumably enjoying what they assumed would be an undisturbed afternoon. No deer this time, as we finally leave the path and start climbing in earnest.

Not that this climb is that dramatic up to the middle plateau, where we get to enjoy some views. One might still qualify at it as steep, but not "fancy" steep. As you can see from the picture below however, we are getting dangerously close to the cloud cover, even though our climb is far from over:

Looking towards an unusually grey Fanad.

Then, from the middle plateau, things become a bit more rocky and therefore a bit more interesting.

How I wish I could cut straight through the hindrances I'm going to have to contend with, in order for the developers I asked assistance for to eventually get to the same page as I am, the way I am cutting straight through this rocky mountain slope!

Though it is a steep climb, it probably looks more impressive on the picture than it is in real life...

As we are nearing the final ridge, we get to use a bit more than our legs, which makes the experience a bit more interesting at last, and helps shed some of our frustration away (which was the plan all along). There's something about using your whole body for the climb... Not that there's much risk to it here, even if it's quite damp all around.

Alas, as we are finally reach the top, the clouds have long beaten us to it, and all we get for our trouble in terms of view are the grey unending drapes of a late afternoon mist...

Behold: Knockalla summit!

Yet, as I am putting the camera back into my pocket after having captured the picture above, two figures furtively come forth from the forlorn fog!

Their hillwalking gear instantly indicates that I wasn't the only one who took a bet on this cloud cover possibly going away by the time one reached the top, and lost.

We exchange a friendly greeting, as I am pondering whether they might be father and son, whereupon they inform me that they are locals. As, in turn, they ask where I am from, I can't help but feel slightly satisfied me that folks who hear me speak don't instantly place me with being of French origins (as usual, they thought I was German). At least my accent isn't entirely giving me away. There may yet exist work for me in the spy trade...

Now, because I have just arrived at the top, I find myself being a bit more loquacious than usual. Eventually, they ask me if I have been to the lake.

Not today I'm afraid. Not that I would mind, but now that I've got this walk out of my system, I'm still planning to see if there's anything I can salvage from that project of mine, and I therefore don't plan on staying too long here, especially in these clouds.

Pointing to the thick fog cover, and probably wondering if I am familiar with this place at all, they suddenly to express some concern about my going over the ridge in this low visibility.

Considering the ridge is precisely where I emerged from, after climbing straight up through it no more than a couple minutes, I can't help but find that cute... I could give you, or them, an unoriginal line about having been "moulded by" the ridge but of course, I don't want to be that dismissive of concerned fellow walkers, who are genuinely wondering if I know the place well enough (which I certainly do) and are simply concerned about my well being...

We part in good spirits, as they tentatively take the direction of the lake (I'll bring you there... just not today) and I move in the opposite direction.

Now that I am alone again, and since this is about the best I can do for you in this cloudy surrounding, I snap a couple more pictures of the local vegetation, which always seems to be enjoying the dampness a bit too unironically:

Even in the midst of the dullest day, there is some colour to be found

Time to head down and see if there's anything I can get back to at home, that isn't going to require me to rely on someone's far away promise of a possible late assistance, just like Horn Head emerging proudly in the late afternoon sun...

Suggested Sound Track

Three Days Grace - It's All Over

Because we gotta pick ourselves up somehow.

Additional Pictures

Not today. Not in the mood.

Return to Blueberry Alley - One giant leap for dessert

Click on this image for our track in Google Maps

At last, the penultimate group of visitors from the linear progression I have been hosting all summer have left, and I can now return to more serious matters!

These more serious matters, as it turns out, are the one activity we have yet to have much of a chance to exert this season: wild blueberry picking.

Speaking of which, if there's one piece of wisdom I shall ever want to impart upon you, it would have to be the following: Never stand between a man and his desserts!

The place where we collect sits at the foothold of the second peak in this picture

Sure it may be a bit rainy these days, with the sun setting a bit earlier than we'd prefer, but the prospect of juicy blueberries, which we've been missing for a long year now, is more than enough to help us throw all caution into the wind and rush out in order to seek what we hope will be a most bountiful crop.

But before we get to the main course, and since those are also plentiful, we do make a welcome stop on our way up to hunt for some blackberries, since they are throwing their welcoming (yet thorny) arms at us, from the bottom of the valley.

Perhaps this is the place to confess that, while I don't miss many things about France, one of the few I do miss are the wild blackberries that anyone living on this part of the continent would be able to collect from all matter of hedges, towards the end of summer. Sadly, that up north, the weather is oftentimes too mild for sweetness to have had a chance to properly settle in. Not that you can't find tasty blackberries here too, but they are much harder to come by...

And the same often goes for blueberries, though, of course, you'll be hard pressed to find blueberries in France, except in the mountains. Not like here, where they really are all over the place, though, again, not always as sweet as one might like 'em to be.

Thus, to noone's big surprise, this season has indeed brought as bountiful a crop as we could hope for. Plus the short rain we've had earlier should ensured that they have been ready-washed for collection.

But first, before we get to the place where we expect the most appropriate set of conditions, we pass Lough Donnell, ever its peaceful self.

Lough Donnell

From there, it's the usual path towards LoughSalt Mountain, which we only climb halfway through today, as we soon encounter exactly what we've been looking for:

Tada!

Did I fail to notice the arrival of rainclouds or even the passage of time while I was feasting on juicy berries, and ended up having to climb down in the dark? Why, no, not at all...

"I really can't see what would ever make you think that..."

And thus, with dessert safely stored (inside our belly) we can head back home, with just a hint of bluish-red around our lips, while making a plea to the Dagda that next year's crop might be as abundant as this year's...

Suggested Sound Track

• ORESAMA / Ginga

Why oh why am I currently enjoying this little tune so much?

It's been proving to be providing your here protagonist with the same propensity for prevalent predisposition as profiting from a profusion of wild blueberries produces, which isn't a small feat!

Additional pictures