 |
| Click on the image to see our track in Google Maps |
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:
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
