 |
| Click on the image for our track in Google Maps |
In what has to be quite a change of scenery from last week, today we set off to Horn Head, mostly because it's been a fairly long time since we last were there (has it been 2 years already?) and also because the afternoon didn't seem like the greatest time for an inland climb anyway, as demonstrated by the cloud-blanketed low summits we could view from our base. Considering that we've had our share of clouds last week, and even if having to dab oneself with sun screen is a pain in the ass, we might as well take our chances with the coastal sun...
 | |
| The sinuous eastern coastal road |
And thus, on a bright and relatively mild Sunday, we merrily arrive at Horn Head. I have to say, even the drive there is a hoot, with the towns we go through already dressed with Irish flags in anticipation of next week (St Patrick's Day), with Dunfanaghy being its usual animated touristy self, flush with ill-parked cars and crowds, and with our usual narrow eastern road, on the Horn peninsula, punctuated with its cattle grids and east side drops, offering us unmitigated views of the northern coast as well as our destination.
 | |
| Our destination |
With this bout of a sunny spell, I was afraid that there might be a fair share of visitors, yet only one other vehicle was to be found at the car park. I guess either people decided to spend their Sunday at the pub, or they did not realize that the skies were set to clear up from the north. More space for me!
 |
| That's what one calls "cliffs" |
Now, if you like cliffs, this is where it's at. Obviously, we're not talking Cliffs of Moher here, or even Slieve League. Still, these ones do just fine. As a matter of fact, I do tend to find Horn Head a lot more impressive than Slieve League, as you get the real precipitous drops one expects when hearing the word "cliffs", whereas Slieve League, while higher, appears a lot less precarious due to its lack of proper verticals. As much as, being a Donegal resident and all, I'd like to continue to see Slieve League being promoted as the highest sea cliffs in Europe, I'm going to say that, if you don't feel a real sense of danger when walking near the edge, then it fails to qualify as a real cliff...
 |
| The old tower ruins, on top of the cliff |
And so, we abandon the car and set off on foot towards the eastern part. One of my recollections of Horn Head, which online maps also seem to corroborate, was that there is a rather marshy area between the car park and the tower ruins. Therefore, with yesterday having been particularly wet, and with my hiking boots not being as waterproof as they once were, I had been pondering whether this location was such a great pick for today. However, it appears that what I recalled had more to do with bringing visitors here, who tend not to be used to boggy grounds and may voice some complaints about the muddy conditions, or me straying away from the path when coming back from the tower ruins, rather than anything else. Even with the recent downpour, the path to get to tower ruins was lot less damp than I feared, and certainly a lot drier than many of the other places I regularly visit, which aren't advertised as boggy grounds.
 |
| The old tower ruins |
Once at the tower, your options are pretty clear: just follow the cliff path up to its most northerly point and enjoy the views. At this stage however, I must confess that I forgot part of my original plan for coming here, which was to also provide you with some pictures of the various markings people leave in stones on the grass near the tower, and where they'll use rocks lying around to spell their names or other messages. As a changing artificial landscape, it's always an interesting aspect of this walk, but not one I'll be able to share today. Then again, you can see a sample of what it looks like in the Google Maps satellite view above, if you zoom in south of the first marker.
 |
| Don't be tempted to go down this seemingly inviting gorge... |
Eventually, we arrive at the northernmost point of the cliff, and in doing so we pass next to a grassy gorge falling down towards the western seas which I'll always recall as the source of an argument I had with one of my best friends and his (then future) wife. This had occurred because they insisted they wanted to try to go down the steep gorge, and I saw it as my responsibility to prevent them from doing so, since I knew it was a lot more risky than they imagined. Obviously, this kind of ruined the mood of our hike for a while, but I must say that, if you have an inkling towards climbing down the cliffs, whatever feasible path you think you have identified is very likely to morph into a very treacherous and slippery overhang, a long way above the water and/or rocks, so you're definitely better off not trying your luck.
 |
| A lone trawler skirting the head |
Besides, there's more than enough to enjoy from the top of the cliffs, with good views of Tory Island in the sun, as well as one lone fishing trawler, that must be part of a fleet frequently seen around these parts.
 |
| Don't let it fool you, there is a 150m almost vertical drop here |
Of course, once they have reached the north point, most visitors will just turn back here and reverse path to the car park, with perhaps a small alteration to reach the coastguard concrete tower, on the hill that sits right besides the car park. But, since we're not most visitors, we continue our route along the west side, as we do have another more secret goal in mind, slightly off the beaten track. Besides, the views of this part of the coast, with the wet rocks glistening in the sun, are just too stunning to pass anyway:
 |
| Glistening rocks in the sun |
Following the west trail, we then come across a recent barb-wire fence, that wasn't there last time we walked here, and that constrains our motion a little bit (can't get as close to the drop as we used to). Soon enough however, and after crossing a couple small streams, we get back to our usual relatively free path. Now that's more like it!
 |
| Not the more recent fence, but this older one comes with a bird |
There our walk is only punctuated with the sound of birds we disturb, as well as some more vertical indentations we have to skirt, some of which do offer quite the tortured sample of tectonic layers:
 |
| I think I see a quetzalcoatl here... What do you see? |
By now, the skies inland are also clearing, and besides the coast line, we're starting to get some good views of Muckish and the snowy remnants at its top. Hey, we were there last week!
 |
| A snow capped Muckish, slowly losing its cloud cover, for the greatest enjoyment of the contemplative crowds |
Eventually, after passing some more creeks, ridges and stony fences, we arrive at our ultimate goal: Templebreaga Arch:
 |
| Templebreaga Arch |
In the evening sun, and with the occasional strong wave crashing against the rock face, this certainly isn't a bad sight to behold...
 |
| Wider view of the arch |
I guess we've gone as far as we were planning to go today, therefore it is time to leave the arch and complete our loop. We'll do that by first heading towards a nearby farm, and then follow the road to the small village (Claggan Upper). At the very peaceful village, we take the path left that goes towards two more remote homes, and across a field populated by about 8 or 9 friendly horses. Then we leave the path and climb between the houses, carefully choosing where we put our feet so as to make sure we don't damage the old stone wall.
 |
| A few of the field's inhabitants |
As we finish our small climb back, the skies happen to clear even further in the setting sun, providing more unadulterated views of the peaks that sit between Muckish and Errigal.
If nothing else, this is certainly turning into an impressionist's evening:
 |
| An impressionist's dream, probably |
Finally, we are back to the road that leads to the car park and, with one last view of Tory Island in the sunset, we head back home...
 |
| One last view of Tory Island |
Now, as I am closing this entry, I can't help but mention that I happened to see a fox during the drive home, while coming down from Glen. Of course not an uncommon sight in these parts (there are plenty of pheasants for them to feed from) but, as with seals, I am always thrilled when I manage to spot one.
And no, since I am not the superstitious type, I'm not going to try to infer what having seen a fox might mean for my future (Later addon: if anything, it seems to mean very lousy luck for the week ahead, with a bike that gets a flat on both tyres at one day's interval, a book shipped from the US that manages to be routed to the complete other end of the country, ultimately arriving damaged, as well as more time wasted by yours truly having to teach a certain Certificate Authority how they should be doing their job).
From what I seem to read however, at least in dreams, seeing a fox is supposed to indicate that you should take a step back before trying to rush into something. Do I wish there weren't a couple of times where I'd have seen a fox in my dreams, so that I then would have refrained from doing something really stupid? Possibly...
Suggested Sound Track
Considering that I have been listening to this track more than I'd like to admit recently, and because the fox episode makes it all the more fitting, I can't resist suggesting:
Now, even though I'm not that much of a fan of Simple Minds, I could still write volumes about the masterpiece that is Street Fighting Years as an album. Then again, considering that this is a suggestion section, I'd rather refrain from trying to alienate readers with what boils down to personal tastes and experiences, so the less I say about it, the better. I am however going to mention that it took me a couple of years to really warm up to that album, which one of my sisters purchased on tape around the time of its release (Good job, sis!), and which I have therefore pretty much continuously listened to ever since.
Still, with regards to this specific song, one may consider that there might be something strangely prophetic about suggesting to "Go tell it on a mountain", which is literally how this whole blog came into existence last week, or something a unsettling about wanting to "shake the deep foundations of this land" when you're standing near the edge of a cliff... At least, one might cryptically hope to have managed to make the most of it, before cooling it down...
Additional Pictures
