Great Pollet Sea Arch - Rocking forth and back

Click on this image for our track in Google Maps

Gotta get that miserable ascension of Snaght out of our system... And so, as a brilliant evening points its head on Fanad yet again (but not so much further inland it seems — why am I not surprised in the slightest?), off we set to a new destination.

Knowing that we'll definitely be out for another evening walk in two days' time, we decided that we might as well pick a beach for today. And one with benefits at that.

To Doagh Beg Strand, and beyond!

We do happen to like this one, because it is recluse, just like us, and it does have a "only for the locals" vibe. One of the many hidden gems of Fanad, if you ask me. So much so that I'm not entirely sure I want to blog that publicly about it... In other words, if you ever find your way to it, don't tell anyone who sent you there!

Walking down to the hidden beach

The path to the strand is pretty secluded. In fact, because the beach itself is mostly hidden then, unless you've already been there, you may think this grassy alleyway is just a field access for cattle or something.

As a matter of fact, as we stride along, we are fast starting to make friends with inquisitive young cows that I suspect have been in the stable until fairly recently and are about as excited to enjoy the great outdoors as we are:

An unusually appreciative public for a change

But we're not here to make friends with local cattle, and thus we promptly arrive at the beach.

Even as I can't help but recall just how drenched I was just 2 days ago, the striking views of Inishowen are starting to make me forget about that incident already, and instead whisper more of the sirens' song in my hear, inviting me to go for yet another hike on the other side of Swilly Bay. I mean, with views like this, how can one ever stay mad at this place?...

And since we're overlooking the waters, as well as other things, we may also try keep an eye open for whales, that are said to frequent the bay. Never managed to spot one but who knows if today could be the day. Alas, as we'll find out, this evening will be no exception either. But at least, it does suit itself to taking pictures:

Swilly Bay, with Inishowen's Mamore Gap in the distance

Yet, no sooner are we on the beach that we exit it through the left, since we do have an alternate destination in mind.

After a small walk along the more or less inviting coastal path, and after crossing a field where an old sign says there might be a bull (which, thankfully, wasn't there) we finally arrive at the round pebble beach, that constitutes the threshold of our main goal.

But first, we'll make a small detour to get a better view of the huge stone block that sits on top of a rock bar, across Inishowen's Dunaff Head in the distance. That rock probably has a name, but I don't know it. So I'm just going to call it Clyde Rock, as an oblique reference to the famous legend of the voracious & golden-coloured Eamon Pac-Mahon, also known as the Celtic hero who found himself pursued by four rather blocky ghosts in an endless maze. I mean, this is well know Irish mythology at this stage; one that has long ceased to be the sole domain of the arcane.

ᗣᗣᗣᗣ      ᗧ···•····

Clyde Rock, with Inishowen's Dunaff Head in the distance

Yet, Clyde is still not our goal. This is:

The Great Pollet Sea Arch

Heck, the arch deserves more than one main picture to do it justice, so here's another:

The still Great Pollet Sea Arch

I could talk about it some more, which I may do if we come back here, but for the time being, I'd have to talk about not so pleasant things regarding coastal rights of access, which I'd rather abstain from doing until specific ongoing matters have been resolved. "If you don't have anything nice to say" and so on...

Therefore we'll just take a few more pictures (some of which you may find below) before heading back to the beach:

Coming back to Doagh Beg Strand

At this stage, maybe I should mention that we have the whole beach to ourselves, as usual.

Also, since the tide is low, I can't pass on the great opportunity to have you discover what stands at the very southern tip of these sands.

That's because, in case you ever read Hergé's Adventures of Tintin (a staple of children's comics in French speaking countries), and especially The Black Island volume, you may remember how the hero's daringly escapes into a sea cave, as he is pursued by his foes, and then his predicament as the sea rises...

Well, it turns out that Doagh Beg Strand does have a sea cave that is strikingly similar to the one depicted in Tintin's Scottish adventures:

The sea cave, at the very southern end of the strand

And with the high tide, this cave does happens to get flooded with sea water, just like
We haven't tried to climb its walls yet, to see if it also leads to a band of bandits printing counterfeit money, but, while this may not be Rossguill's Murder Cave, it certainly does look inviting to smugglers...

I guess it's time to conclude that this evening has achieved its goal of making us forget Sunday's very damp affair and is therefore a success. Can't help but wonder if we might not have been better off heading to Fanad then, where clear skies always abound, instead of tempting our fate on Inishowen...

Time to head back

Suggested Sound Track

Obviously, we still have very recent memories of that rain episode we got on the other side of the bay. Plus, with the sea shore at out feet as well as rocks left and right, it's not that big a jump to go with this next treat:

• Rainbirds - Sea of Time

I too could talk about time if I wanted. I could also talk to you about arch-something, naming stuff (or lack thereof) and other elements, but it's way too early for that and I happen to have work to do. So just enjoy this great piece of music and leave me in peace...

Additional Pictures

 

Inishowen's Slieve Snaght - Rocketing skywards in inclement weather

Click on this image to see our track in Google Maps

Our first public foray into Inishowen.

Inishowen is nice. However we took a gamble and we lost. This is why we don't gamble.

I bet you've been asking: "But Pete, what happens when the weather is not that great and you still want to go for a hike?"

What happens is, because this is Ireland and bad weather doesn't tend to persist for very long (or at least, if it does, it's not gonna lock itself on top of a specific location for aeons as opposed to what's the case on the continent — I literally remember spending weeks in Paris without ever seeing the sun once!), you try to pick a place where conditions are likely to fare better than others, which, in the case of county Donegal, is often a matter of shifting your destination a mere 20 km further east, west, south or north.

In that respect, coastal areas are usually a good gamble. Especially, I know for a fact that, while it may rain cats and dogs around Glenveagh, you may be enjoying dry, if not downright splendid weather, in Fanad.

So, what you do is: take a look at the precipitation map for the last few hours, and, from the general trend, try to estimate which area is likely to clear out first or fare better than the rest.

At least that was the plan. I mean, the outlook for the afternoon didn't look so bad: There had been rain, yes, but it wasn't persistent and clear skies seemed to follow in tow by the time we left home. As such, Inishowen, where we haven't been for some time, didn't seem like that poor a bet. Besides, it is a coastal area, and the rain clouds, coming from the south-east, were supposed to have plenty of obstacles in their way, to ensure (we hoped) that they'd shed much of their payload, before they got to where we'd be walking.

Furthermore, we almost got no rain during our drive around Lough Swilly, so we arrived pretty optimistic around the shores of Lough Turk, as parked to proceed with our programmed climb of Slieve Snaght from the south. Surely, the worst of the downpours had already passed, and the skies would clear out by the time we got to the top, right?

Looking back at Lough Turk, as we start our climb

We still had plenty of reasons to believe the showers wouldn't last long, even as a second, more pronounced one, came over us while we were about to hit the ever-soggy area that one must to go through to reach the ridge (See those "Slieve Snaght Bogs" on Google Maps? Yeah, they extend way further west than the map would make you believe — but we know that from experience already). Our thoughts were that it would only a matter of time before the rain stopped around these damp slopes and, with a little luck, we'd get clear skies before reaching the top.

Slieve Snaght, hidden by rain clouds, that are about to become a lot more active...

However, by the time we reached the area of small mounds, that needs to be carefully negotiated so as to avoid the muddy trenches in between, our optimism started to dampen at about the same rate as our clothing, especially as the rain also seemed to intensify along with the wind, preventing us from taking more pictures.

The issue here is, there's only so far our rain gear will go and, by the time we were only halfway up our climb, and close to reaching to the ridge, we were pretty much fully drenched already, especially the shoes, without this continuous rain giving us any hope that it was about to let up anytime soon...

Please understand: I am not complaining about the rain here. The fact is, I don't really mind rain. What I'm bothered about, however, is that modern technology still hasn't given us a waterproof coating that'll last more than a few months of frequent usage, with provisions for cleaning up your gear... Gore-Tex my ass! Of course, the gear I use is quite a few years old, and far from the most expensive kind, which doesn't help. Still, why can't this stuff be usable for more than 5 or 10 years (or even 3 years, in the case of hiking boots)?

So, yeah, with my feet a bit too damp for comfort, and clouds obstructing the view, you'll excuse me if I press on, and reduce the pictures I'm going to take to a bare minimum, even as we are finally reaching the rocky area that marks the beginning of the summit...

The ghostly standing rock army of Slieve Snaght

Besides, unbeknownst to me yet, because of the overall dampness of my pockets, some mist has started to find its way between the lens of the camera, and the UV filter, which make for even ghostlier (or should one say ghastlier) pictures as we progress. I guess, this is a good representation of how we feel, alone on the summit, with the various standing rocks and mounds as silent grey companions...

In these conditions, even the round stone hut, that adorns the east side of the summit, looks a lot more ominous than usual:

The stone "hut"

Considering the great views it normally enjoys, in any other kind of weather, we're pretty sure that hut feels about as miserable as ourselves, on this isolated top.

With the persisting rain, there is no chance of the clouds breaking through which means I'm not going to be able to deliver the gorgeous panorama of Inishowen I had hoped to share with you today. We therefore leave the top about as quickly as we got there, and begin our descent through the eastern ridge.

I'm not going describe that climb down much. It went from "soggy" to "very soggy" all the way to the road, by which time we couldn't wait to be back at the car, to get out of our wet socks and dry our feet. At least, the rain stopped when we were about a quarter of the way down, even though the cloud cover didn't seem to want to move away one bit. All in all, it looks to me like our trickster friend Snaght got a firm grab of the clouds, and proceeded to squeeze them in a long firm grasp, so that the resulting persistent rain would discourage even the most endured hillwalker.

More rain in the horizon as we are climbing down

"You win this round, Snaght, but I'll be back soon enough, and then we'll see who has the last laugh..."

Suggested Sound Track

Well, it was a miserable day, with miserable conditions for a walk, but we can only stay miserable for so long. Heck, if we couldn't smile at getting our dose of rotten luck on regular basis, we'd probably have jumped off Horn Head's cliffs a long time ago... And so, since it turns out this whole entry may be about luck, I'll go with the ever optimistic McCartney. We may tend to distrust overtly optimistic people (I mean, are they not seeing what we are seeing?!?), but we certainly don't mind their music:

• Paul McCartney & Wings - With a little luck

Additional Pictures

Loughsalt Mountain from the east - Sunshine, a balcony

Click on this image for our track in Google Maps

About a month ago, when water was still freezing, I mentioned that we would be on Loughsalt Mountain soon enough. And thus, here we are...

It does feels good to be back home. Plus, the conditions couldn't be more welcoming: 20°C, without a cloud in the sky — As far as I am concerned, this is summertime weather. One would have to be foolish, then, not grab this opportune call for an after-work walk with both hands (or more precisely both feet).

We are therefore back to visiting one of our usual playgrounds. I say back, because, compulsive walker that we are, we were already here on March 7, for a quick climb of nearby Crockaleahan, before it got too dark, which I didn't bother to blog about. At least with the long days finally around, there's no need to worry about the lights running out before we've had our fill. We'll therefore go the long way up, to the top of to Loughsalt Mountain.

In the distance, what we are climbing today, with the western tip of Lough Donnell on our left.

The way to Lough Donnell, which constitutes our hike's midpoint, is its usual enjoyable self. While small, the evergreen forest that borders the path on our right is a powerful presence that we always appreciate (if only it wasn't also riddled with some old trash that ill-advised individuals decided to dispose of in there - what the £$%^ is wrong with you people?!?). Besides the trees, and with the fine weather, I kind of expected to meet some turf cutters, as they are frequently found around these parts. However, we are entirely alone here today, which suits us beautifully. Provides us with the opportunity to appreciate the place to its fullest, as well as the crisp sound our eager feet make on a surface that is still plenty moist underground. If we had to mention a small annoyance, it'd be the clouds of mosquitoes, out in full force along the shores of Lough Donnell. However, their occupants seems to more interested into minding their own business than zeroing onto our exposed skin, even as we pass across them, and there is enough wind to be found as we climb, to prevent them from attempting to follow us anyway:

Swarms of mosquitoes along the path

As a matter of fact, when the weather is that good in the Irish outdoors, you do want to have some wind, lest you want to find yourself bothered by the much smaller but much more tenacious midges as soon as you halt for longer than a couple of seconds.

On the way to the top, we pick our usual steep climb, straight up the north-easterly part of the mountain. This choice is not entirely innocent: we're definitely going to be back when it's blueberry season, since we know this place has plenty to offer. Obviously then, we want to take a pre-emptive peek at what we'll collecting from in a few months time... The leaves may barely be starting to come out, but what we see gives us ground to anticipate a promising harvest. Yummy!

For now though, let's just leave "blueberry alley" on an empty stomach, and step onto the ridge.

Looking north-east from the ridge, with Lough Donnell in the center

Once on the ridge, the rest of the hike to the geodesic marker becomes pretty much a cake-walk, with gorgeous vistas to be had in the west, under the reassuring presence of Muckish in the distance as well as the warm sunshine. All in all, not a bad place to be, even if we are probably getting a little sun burnt as a result...

Loughsalt Mountain (contre jour, left) with its geodesic marker  at the top. Muckish mountain is on the right

Past the geodesic marker, I remember there used to be a lone wooden cross in memory of a hill walker, set between a small rock mound, but the elements got the better of it now. I often wondered about this man, whom I know nothing about, while hiking around here... Did he meet his fate while hill walking? Or did he just have a special attachment to this place? The Irish countryside is usually fairly forgiving with regards to hill walking, so I don't really think that this person passed away during a hike around this place. Then again, who knows... I may very well be the next person to demonstrate that climbing hills can be fatal around these parts some day. Oh well, there are worse ways to go if you ask me.

Leaving these considerations aside, we press a bit further west, until we get to overlook the lake that gave its name to the mountain: Lough Salt. As expected, its surface is glistening like fireworks in the sun. Alas, the picture below will never ever do justice to what we actually witnessed up there. But that'll teach you to read an insipid blog, instead of just walking up one of the many hills Ireland has to offer!

The glistening surface of Lough Salt

Looking further west, past lakes Salt and Greenan, we also get good views of our recent friend Crockmore. On a day like this, its guardian dragon must definitely be thawing in. Better hope that the weather doesn't stay warm and dry for too long, else we might have some more "unexplained" gorse fires on our hands...

Crockmore (closest) with Errigal (furthest & tallest)

Once we have enjoyed the view to our heart's content, it's time to head back. Besides, we are definitely getting hungry for smoked salmon and soda bread... as well as those blueberries that we have coincidentally purchased for dessert earlier!

Suggested Sound Track

I'm going to go back to some Bel Canto, since this is what I was listening to while climbing. In Zenith, which is musically brilliant, yet still not one of my top tracks from Magic Box, seemed to resonate with me this evening, so why look further?

• Bel Canto - In Zenith

The somewhat heavier artillery will have to wait for later.

Additional Pictures

Lough Donnell

Lough Salt and Lough Greenan

Rosguill Peninsula, in the distance

Lough Keel

Fanad's Dun More - Mindless & homeless

Click on this image for our track in Google Maps

Yet another "after-work" track.

But you should have guessed that already, since this is a midweek hike...

Looks like the overcast morning turned into a brilliant afternoon. Or, at least, it did over Fanad, as I could see all too clearly from my windows while I pretended to work. Then again, as you'll hear me profess time and time again, "The skies are always clear over Fanad".

The thing is, I wasn't really planning on going for a walk this evening, especially as I had plenty to keep me busy and the timeframe to accomplish it all, before the set deadline, was dwindling like crazy.

But the radiant sunshine, combined with the prospect of being away from it all, got the better of me and I decided that now was as good a time as ever for an evening stroll.

Besides, I am still at a stage where there are plenty of my usual walking spots I haven't shared, so I thought it would be a good opportunity to make you discover this one.

The destination, we've known for a while, since we do enjoy the Fanad "Highlands", which we got to visit from many different points of origin. Yet, the old farm we do park at this evening, and that marks the start of our path, we did find entirely by accident while looking for a different destination. Quite the happy mishap if you ask me, as we have gotten fond of this very narrow and sinuous road, that climbs up to nowhere (it's a cul-de-sac), and that we doubt many of the people from the region know... much to their loss.

I must also confess that I was aiming at sharing some pictures of this place with you, especially given this evening's outstanding weather conditions. However, that was not meant to be: not even a hundred metres in our walk, while attempting to snap a first picture composed of a friendly white horse from a nearby field and some snow-capped summits in the background, I found that I had forgotten to replace the memory card back in the camera!

This effectively kills our picture show for tonight...

Maybe I am a bit more annoyed by this than I care to admit ("That wasn't part of the plan!") because, in the soft evening sunlight and with the white blankets starting only a quarter of the way from the higher summits plus with the northern coast and loughs of Fanad being their usual selves, there were some unprecedented views to be had. Guess I'll just have to keep these to myself.

Then again, it's not like we're not going to be back here soon enough, and I was in a bit of a hurry anyway, as I do have a plane to catch early tomorrow morning...

On that subject, were I a reasonable person, I certainly wouldn't have undertaken this evening's hike in the first place, as I'm not even half way through sorting all the stuff needed for this upcoming trip. But we've long established that, reasonable, I am not. Therefore I'm gonna go make the rounds, and say some proper goodbyes when I have an oh-so-rare opportunity to do so, even if I'm probably going to pay a hefty price for it once I am back home and scrambling to pack some last-minute luggage...

Just where I am flying to is my own business, so I'll keep that under wraps. Instead, I'd much rather talk about the luminous sights of a snow-capped Slieve Snaght or Croagh Carragh, on Inishowen, or of Muckish, Errigal and co., on the other side, since we have pretty much a 360° view from the tiny plateau of Dun More. As a matter of fact, we're going to witness some of these still snow-covered summits in tomorrow's morning bus to the airport.

If that isn't a proper send off, I don't know what is!

Suggested Sound Track

I may tend to get a bit more philosophical on the days when I travel. Therefore, I am going to suggest one of the tracks I played during that long bus drive to the airport, which I hadn't listened to in a long time:

• K's Choice - Believe

Of course, one would be hard pressed to consider sugar-coated soundbites, crafted for the mere purpose of rhyming, as bearing even a passing relationship with philosophy. Yet, if philosophy has taught us one thing, it's that one can misappropriate a flawed frame, and alter it to fit an alternate purpose or intent. Makes me wonder why us nihilists always have to believe we must dismantle everything we are being thrown at, instead of simply letting allegedly honest artistic efforts slide...

Tra na Rossan - Assault, Battery and Murder

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Today is Easter Sunday. And I have been up since 05:30.

In a future post (that I know will be titled "Needlessness"), I may reveal why I have gotten up so early as well as the song that has been in my head since the little hours of the morning. But this is a story for another time... as well as a much more appropriate.

Furthermore, because 5:30 AM happens to be a lot closer to the time I tend to go to bed on week-ends than the time I'd prefer to wake up, I hope you'll excuse me if we pass on a big elaborate plan for today's hike. Instead, considering our current sleep-deprived state, we're going to play it safe and head to what is perhaps our easiest picks of all: Tra na Rossan on the Rosguill Peninsula.

NB: For Irish purists out there, I should point out that I am using Tra na Rossan as our destination's name, instead of the more appropriate Trá na Rosann, on account that 1) I don't speak Irish and 2) Many people seem to use one or the other indiscriminately. Having been exposed to the "Rossan" spelling first, and because this also happens to be the one I think works better internationally, I do have a strong preference for that one. However, so as to indicate that this is not proper Irish, I will drop the fada from "Trá" (i.e. the acute accent, for non-Irish speakers), which I hope makes the intentional misnaming more palatable.

Tra na Rossan
NB: If your French is better than your Irish, then you know that the missing "fada" is in fact the one taking the picture...

As far as the weather is concerned, the afternoon couldn't be better, even though the chill from this morning is still making its presence felt and it is also a bit more windy around this coastal place than we anticipated. Then again, we knew the day would be plenty sunny, since we got to watch the sunrise from a vantage point that shall not yet be named, on a mountain not that far from home. Yet, the direct result of the sunny weather plus the long Easter week-end is that there are quite a few tourists in the area...

All in all, I'd say we probably ended crossing up paths with about 10 people on the beach itself, and spotted maybe twice or three times that number during the rest of the hike. That is definitely a lot more than I am used to encounter here. You may scoff all you want at my declaring a beach with about 10 people on it as "full of tourists", but you are not used to coming to this place on the many days where we pretty much have the whole place to ourselves, especially during the winter. When we come back here, on such a day, I'll show you exactly what I mean...

The view from western part of the beach. Not seen on this image, the tourists that dotted it here and there.

Regardless, the strand itself is not the part that interests us most: Beaches are better left for couples, families, or (wind)surfers, and since we are none of these, we make a quick dispatch of this stretch of sand and continue straight up, to climb the 163m of Crock na Sleá whose usual inviting call we couldn't fail to hear. We'll use this easy ascension to snatch a first panorama of the shoreline we just left:

Northern view of Tra na Rossan

Before I bring you up to the submit however, I can't resist mentioning that Tra na Rossan is one of the locations that featured heavily on the walls of the Parisian métro, when the Irish tourism board started to promote its newly created Wild Atlantic Way. As a matter of fact, one of my sisters, who lives in the French capital, did send me the picture below to ask whether the beach depicted might indeed be Tra na Rossan (since I had brought her there during one of her visits), which was easy to confirm:

A Parisian métro ad for the Wild Atlantic Way, featuring Tra na Rossan

Can't pretend that, after having lived and worked in Paris for a couple of years myself, I don't feel gratified in the knowledge that I could be standing in a matter of minutes, on this prime example of an "exotic" beach — from the many that regularly get plastered over the Parisian métro walls in order to give its weary passengers a much needed taste for evasion. Heck, there was zero need to plaster such ads while I was a resident there: granting myself the ability to take a stroll onto a nice isolated little corner of Irish wilderness whenever I felt like it was one of the prime reason I fled the French capital, as well as France as a whole, in the first place...

Looking south-west, from the top of Crock na Sleá

Anyway, let's leave the poor métro slobs, along with their dire need of escape, to the artificially lit corridors where they dwell, and conclude our first (well, technically, second) climb of the day. Though a bit windy, the view from the top of Crock na Sleá is pretty sweet. It wasn't that long ago, in sunny July 2016 that, from this very place, we could easily spot the fenced white area at the tip of Malin Head where they built a Millennium Falcon replica, in order to shoot parts of a little movie you may have heard of, called "Star Wars - Episode VIII"...

Ballyhoorisky Point, on the other side of the bay, and, in the very distant background, Malin Head

Pressing on. Unless we are short of time, Crock na Sleá is rarely our final destination these days, so we quickly continue north and head to the coastguard watchtower, on nearby Gortnalughoge Hill. It is from this promontory that we are finally starting to get some views of our second smaller sandy destination, the name of which I have kept quiet until now for obvious reasons: Murder Hole Beach.

The southern part of Murder Hole Beach

In a short while, you too will have a better idea of how that beach (which is also known as Boyeeghter Strand, but I much prefer its other, perhaps less official, designation) got its name. But first we must climb down onto it from Gortnalughoge, which is not entirely as straightforward as it seems because the direct route to the sands has some steep inclines near the end. Not much trouble for us though.

Now, the interesting part about Murder Hole Beach is that, due to the presence of a rock cliff residing in the middle, it ends up being cut in two at high tide. Thus, with its easiest and most used path sitting on the north side, if you are lucky enough to get there during that time, like we are today, as well as adventurous enough to use the less downtrodden means of access, then you are pretty much guaranteed the whole southern strand to yourself:

A tourist (or is it a CSI detective?) standing on the northern part of the strand and separated from us by the rising tide...

Considering how the water is now isolating us from the rest of the world, I stand pretty sure that one could commit bloody murder here at high tide, without the slightest worry in the world... Plus, it is on this part of the beach that you find a rather large cave, the one that most likely gave its name to the place:

The view from Murder Hole Cave may look inviting, but who knows
what kind of "accident" might happen to you in there...

We therefore choose to walk out of the ominous cave before we get to disturb the many human corpses that are sure to lie under its sands. Instead, since we have this part of the beach to ourselves, we head to the southern tip and snap a few more pictures:

View from the southern tip, with footprints from the many fleeing murderers (including yours truly?)

I guess now might also be a good time for us to start running from the law, on account that, at the very least, we are probably considered as accessory to murder... But we don't want to flee this place from the north though, as we'd be too easily spotted on a path that is usually pretty crowded and also because this access is currently barred by the sea anyway.

Luckily, the marauder that we are knows the perfect escape route from this place: straight east through the steep dune, and up the dry stream.

"Ha ha, you'll never catch me, copper!"

Well, that grand escape through the roofs certainly woke us up. Or maybe it's the awesome view we get from the clifftop that overlooks the strand. Alas, today's sea is a bit too tranquil — You ought to see this place, and especially the waves, on a more agitated day:

Looking down on Murder Hole Beach

From here, I guess it's time to head back and call it a day. But not before we further confuse whoever may be on our tail, by walking around the small peninsula, as well as getting some more great views of Horn Head and Tra na Rossan in the process:

Horn Head in the distance

One last look at Tra na Rossan from the north west

Suggested Sound Track

With such an obvious segue way, a very easy pick would have been Murder By Numbers, by The Police.
However, as we remember how much of an unforgivable crime we once committed in cold blood, we do have our reasons to want to stay away from The Police...

Therefore, we'll go with Genesis. Besides, I am a huge Genesis fan (whose music I happened to be properly introduced to during a trip to Germany, a very long time ago) so it was only a matter of time before I'd hit you with one of their tracks. Plus, if we want to go full serial killer cycle, I too could talk about how much of a masterpiece their Duke album really is, if you can understand an all too easy pop culture reference. Except I can also explain Heathaze (which also happens to be one of my favourite tracks from that album) whose incomprehension I am hoping Bret Easton Ellis used as a tell tale for the lack of empathy of its serial killer protagonist, in the American Psycho novel (but I am probably trying to read to too much into a book that I didn't find that enjoyable in the first place anyway).

Now, the old Genesis lineup is definitely not the one I tend to prefer. But I can't really avoid hitting you with the somewhat a-propos:

• Genesis - Robbery, Assault and Battery

Who knows how many of the above I may have committed already. Guess it's high time "the bastard (that I am) got away", then...

Additional Pictures