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| Click on this image for our track in Google Maps |
Well, I guess I've been out to sea long enough...
Or, one could also say, I have been silent long enough...
Now, for those wondering what this quip is about, it is a mere acknowledgement that I am no longer publishing these blog entries even remotely close to real-time. Therefore, even if the official timestamp of this post doesn't make it look that way, there has been... some time, between the publishing of this entry and the previous one.
But let's get back to our main storyline: Today is quite overcast, so much so that even the medium-height hills, that are visible from home, are blanketed under an unwavering layer of clouds. What this means is we need to forego any idea of a decent climb and head to lower grounds instead.
Not that we mind that much: we've done our fair share of climbing last week and we know just the place to go, that sits much closer to home than Slieve League, and that should help us get our hiking fix.
To Fanad it is yet again!
Except, this time, we're going to take our swashbuckling adventures towards its most westerly point.
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| The heather's in full bloom and an open path awaits us - let's go! |
With a quick hop over the bridge, that didn't exist when we started to come here about 10 years ago, we soon arrive to what used to be a very isolated place, and which continues to bear all of the stigmas of that state up to this day. Our kind of place!
Can't help but wish that, 10 years from now, the identity of this part of Fanad still won't have changed much, even with its newfound connection to the mainland. Alas, considering the stupidly large amount of mobile homes that have been unscrupulously added to the other side of the bay (Rossguill) as well a life-long pessimism on these matters, borne from first hand experience, I fear that, the enticing seclusion of this place isn't going to last for much longer. Shame.
Anyway, while we can still enjoy it, even more than the place we parked, our destination for today is indeed quite isolated, since it's good old Donaghmore Strand which, by all means, is a beach of great splendour when the conditions are right, but which also doesn't offer too great a means of access. The reason for this is not for lack of an easily walkable path but mostly because, last time I checked, the local farmer had erected a big "No trespassing" sign across the all-to-inviting path that leads to it and, even if we have been known to disregard the many of rules that we deem utterly arbitrary and unfair, we do attempt to respect some of them... when it doesn't bother us too much.
In this case, it doesn't bother us. We have our secret passages to these lands, that have yet to be placarded with "Durchgang verboten", and since we don't mind taking the long way around, we'll relish in the anticipation of lengthening our adventure.
But, first things first, there's no way we can start on merry way without making a quick detour to say hello to the ever friendly locals:
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| Just about the most life you will encounter on this part of Fanad, on a grey Sunday afternoon |
With this formality now accomplished, we can now head further towards the strand, using the large farm path as well as the field openings we know of. As always, the landscape is more than welcoming and, even if this walk is not challenging in the slightest, we do appreciate being out again. However, as soon as the main road becomes a distant souvenir, we suddenly find out that there is an unusually large amount of flies swarming around, and starting to pester us.
Considering the amount of stagnant water lying here and there as well as the overall mildness, this doesn't exactly come as much of a surprise. But I still have to say that being followed by a large swarm of flies for minutes on end does make one begin to wonder if, maybe, their last shower might have left something to be desired...
At least I hope that my showering skills are still better than my photography skill, as, out of the four pictures I took of the exceedingly friendly house sparrow, that kept following no more than a couple metres away as I strode along the last leg of the barb-wire fenced path that leads to the beach, this is the best I have to show for it:
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| And it's not like we didn't have ample time to fix the focus - that bird followed us for a solid 2 minutes! |
As friendly as it seemed, I suppose it isn't really our brave face that attracted the bird, but probably that juicy swarm of flies that existed in our wake. Then again, who can tell what goes on into the mind of a small bird. Maybe our smile is that charming for lesser creatures...
While I didn't manage to get a decent picture of our small friend, at least I did manage to capture a better picture of the relaxed grey heron, which we disturbed around the same area, and which temporarily set down a bit further up, before flying off for good:
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| Wild fowl of Fanad must be different breed, not to seem to have any fear at all of us humans |
Having long heard the saying: "A heron drags the rain wherever it flies", I can't help but hope that this long established peasants' rule will get disproved, at least for the next the couple of hours. The skies may be overcast, but last time I checked, it didn't seem like rain was on the menu.
Now, as we arrive close to the place where the large fowl flew off, the ground is definitely becoming a lot sandier, a clear indication, if there was any need for it, that we are nearing our first destination.
Yet, we can't help but take one last look at the inviting rolling hills standing right to our east.
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| Can't say I'm not tempted for a quick climb. Yet I have to remind myself that our destination lies elsewhere |
At last, we are now at the edge of the ocean and, as make quick mince of the low fence that guards the beach entry, we can forget the temporary inconvenience of flies, who chose to stay behind waiting for our return, as well as the disappointment of still not having managed to take a proper picture of wild life today, despite having been given many a chance to do so.
With one last attempt at rectifying things, before we engage onto the sand, we decide to fall back to capturing some of the colourful flora, that also exists along the path. At least, these fellows are not going to be tempted to flee from us as soon as we venture a bit too close (that we know of):
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| Come on thistle, give me focus! |
But we've spend more than enough time dwelling on inlander matters! We are a coastal dweller now, and our thoughts can now rest purely onto sea elements. This is even more true as we appear to be the only intelligent being, or something akin to such a naturalist classification, currently inhabiting these shores.
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| The beginnings of Donaghmore Strand |
Now that I think about it, even if I come here on a relatively regular basis, I genuinely don't recall ever meeting another living soul on this beach. And today is no exception — we have these sands all to ourselves, just as our contemplative soul wanted.
Besides, judging by the fact that ours is the only track we can distinguish, I do have to wonder if the strand as seem many other footsteps, besides ours, in the last few moons...
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| Looking back at our track as we progress along the shore |
I guess what I'm saying is: If I ever come across a pirate's booty, that I need to bury in a hurry, I have a pretty good idea of the place that shall welcome the X from my map.
Besides, this beach does suit itself to stranded pirates' tales, given that it has its own skiff's wreck, right down the middle of it, which I also highlighted on the map above if you are interested.
Who knows, maybe I did actually bury a treasure in there...
Furthermore, since I have been coming here on a regular basis, I can tell you that there actually used to be more of the wreck visible. But it seems that the ebb and flow of the sands have finally started to get the better of the decaying structure. These days, only part of the port hull, as well as a rusty capstan, still emerge...
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| The rusty wreck |
On a sunny day, this unmistakable mark of a wreck makes for quite a forlorn picture, especially in the low sunset light... Heck, even a cloudy day like today, the vestigial elements suit themselves for quite a memorable sight, especially for the lone pirate that passes on this isolated beach.
However, unless someone really wants us to (which we'd still advise against) we're not here to reminisce about shipwrecks or castaways, so we'll use the wind in our sails to press on to the end of the beach, and feign to ignore the large motorboat that comes to disturb our reverie, as it navigates around the buoy on the other side of the channel. How rude!
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| Why so noisy? |
Another short hop, and we have now elevated ourselves back again above the glistening end of Donaghmore and onto terra firma.
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| The ends of the earth... or more precisely, the ends of Fanad and Rosguill |
Now, while I wouldn't exactly say that I don't like sand ("Take a seat, young Shorewalker"), I much prefer making my way on more solid ground. Plus, even if the ocean is quite a sight in itself, your surroundings certainly become a lot less barren once you leave the beach.
Case in point, since we're still not done with trying to capture flying wildlife today, no sooner have we left the beach that we come across a prime sample of a narrow-bordered five-spot burnet insularis (that name is quite a mouthful), resting idly on a wildflower. Doubt you'd find find such a colourful creature on the sand.
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| At least, this critter had the delicacy to wait until we sorted out our focus |
On the subject of flying insects, even as we have worryingly noticed a lot less bees buzzing around this summer, as far as we can tell, the butterfly population seems to be doing okay this year. And we sure hope the scarcity of bees is just a punctual phenomenon, due to the prolonged winter, rather than something more unsettling, like that global collapse everyone's talking about...
Soon afterwards, after making a small detour that I won't comment on, we arrive to the pink granite formation, that marks the beginning of Gortantraw Bay and Strand.
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| It's not like a fence has ever stopped us |
A quick walk through the fence and we're on our second completely deserted beach of the day. People sure don't know what they're missing... But I do hope it will remains that way for as long as possible!
From there, we push a bit further, to climb onto Gortantraw Point in order to get some good sights of Sesslagh Bay, that sits just behind.
Sure, there exists another beach there, which we could walk onto if we wanted to, but since we find that our feet have had enough of sand for today, and we still have to make our way back across the two strands we came from, we consider that now might be a good time to call it a day.
Besides, for some strange reason, we have the feeling that we might not be as alone as we think we are in this place, and are being observed...
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| No idea why... |
As expected, the walk back is about as uneventful as our way in.
The only small variation we bring is that we change our return path on Donaghmore so that we''l pass right past the rock formations that sit in the middle, where we find an interesting sponge-like formation of rocks, where each hole appears to have been invaded by small mussels.
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| Back to Donaghmore |
What else is there to say: Not much besides the fact that, as always, this strand has held all of its promises. It is therefore with one last fond farewell, and a promise to come walk these shores again, that we leave these fulfilling sands, along with our buried treasures, behind.
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| If you dig deep enough, you're bound to find something... |
Suggested Sound Track
Can't say that I am a huge fan of Toto. However, no one can deny that they are accomplished musicians and this just one of the tracks that flew by while I was walking on the beach.
Besides, if one's supposed to hold the line, one might as well hold the shoreline...
Additional Pictures
