Ballymastocker Beach - An invisible second best

Click on this image for our track in Google Maps

Isn't this just your luck – we are going to what was once voted the second most beautiful beach in the world, and you don't even get a single picture of it!

To be fair, I do feel a little bad about not bringing my camera. But then again, I also remember how taking pictures and uploading them for sharing is a bore, and I have too much of a work backlog to go through right now so I hope I can be excused.


Besides, there is no way my camera (or the man using it) could have done justice to the sights that were granted to us of Fort Dunree and the Urris Hills in the evening sun. So you are probably better off not getting half-assed attempts from someone who's trying to pretend that, somehow, they may qualify at being a semi-competent photographer.

Loads of stuff to keep us busy at home these days... But then, around other people's supper time, we decided we could use a break and, on the longest day of the year, enjoy that little bit of light, that got emitted from our local star 500 or so seconds ago, getting reflected off the natural scenery.

Looks like we chose the right hour too, even if we can't help but be very conscious of the showers that are approaching from the east. Oh well, localized showers have never really bothered us, so we heartily set forth onto the sand, without looking back.

If this is the second beautiful beach on this planet then people sure don't seem to be aware of it: even as we walk close to the the full length of the strand and back, we're not going to meet or even see a single soul. Not that you'd ever hear me complain about that!

About half way towards Portsalon, the shower finally hits us with full force. But even with its accompanying wind, it remains a gentle shower, one like only the month June seems to have the secret of, and there is something about witnessing individual drops of rain hitting a large body of water that is hard to explain: the fleetingness of each rippling event, from the thousands and thousands of individual raindrops, along with the knowledge that none of what we are seeing is ever going to present itself to anybody else, or even our own selves, ever again...

Put away all these artificial human constructs, that offer the same reliable boring look from one second to the next, and give us some unpredictable in our life! I guess some say that much is to be revealed from the fleetingness of time and there certainly would be a lot to say about time, on a day whose sole designation is based on the duration of daylight. Then again, being the facetious type, I would also readily add that there is probably even more better left unsaid, especially by this passable excuse of a blog writer.

Still, without wanting to pursue ill-appropriate philosophical matters for too long, I'd surmise that it is probably true that time does reveal everything... but only in the manner as gravity indirectly reveals the presence of invisible masses. In other words you have to look for something, or perhaps even already know what you are looking for, to find it "revealed".

In our immediate case however, what time does reveal, as the showers subside and cross the sea towards Inishowen, is an amazing set of double fully formed rainbows. With their arches starting almost at my feet, I think I see colours in there, that I never knew existed.

All I can say then is that good fortune always seems to smile... to the man who forgot (or chose not to bring) his camera. Surely the post-showers evening light would have made for brilliant pictures, no matter the hardware or the hand holding it. Another day, then. Or maybe you should simply come over by yourself, to the second most beautiful strand in the world, at an hour where it is deserted, and see what I am talking about for yourself.

Speaking (reluctantly) of light, and as I am reporting this promenade whilst still contemplating an extended sunset at close to midnight, I do feel like I could pretty much go back there right now, or in a couple of hours even, and not be bothered in the slightest with regards to being able to see where I place my feet. Being this far north mid-June, there is no such thing as "night" ― only an extended sunset that gradually morphs into a sunrise. Heck, there are weeks here where you can't even see the stars!

Not that I would tell you if and where I go for a midnight stroll anyway. Regardless of whether time is set to reveal it all, a man has to try to keep some secrets you know...

Suggested Sound Track

• Mike Oldfield - Return To The Origin

Since Tr3s Luna is the album I was listening to while driving back, it seems quite fitting to select an atmospheric track for this beach stroll, especially as I got subjected to the elements. Plus, if we are talking about time, we might as well venture just a little bit further along that line.

Crohy Head - Dream on

Click on the image above for our track in Google Maps

Another truncated track that I have to apologize for (Logger stopped recording 3/4th into the loop). However, this time, I know precisely why that happened: I ran out of flash space on the device.

That one's entirely on me. I had been wondering about removing old logs before setting out, but decided against it thinking that I still had more than enough capacity. Turns out, that wasn't the case.

Oh well, this is not a difficult hike, since we've been looking for something relatively easy and straightforward for a change, so you should be able to complete the circuit on your own, should you ever be tempted to follow my lead. Basically, you just need to head to the north-eastern tip of the large lake you see on the map above, then follow the farm track back to the hiking path, which, though the quarry, will bring you back to your starting point.

Maghery Strand as we start our walk

Now the weather may not be as bright and sunny as last week's, but it's not that bad at all for a hike especially as the temperature crossed below the 20°C's again, which makes it prefect for striding along. It is also not as overcast as the photos might lead you to think, since I believe I also misconfigured the ISO settings on my camera, with the end result that most of the pictures look much darker than it actually was.

Didn't really have a well planned destination in mind today, so, at the last minute, I decided that going towards Dungloe, and then some more, towards Maghery and Crohy Head, is where our fun would be had. Of course we've driven down this picturesque road a few times before, but this is our very first time hiking around this place.

The ruins from the Red House... which doesn't seem that red from this angle

After parking near Maghery Strand, were a few families seem to be enjoying their afternoon on the beach, we follow the coastal road towards the south for a straightforward walk of discovery around the beaten path. Already, the ruins of the Red House (above), as well as old Crohy Tower (below), are setting a decisive air of historical mystery upon our chosen path...

Spooky... I wonder if anybody ever tried to trick-or-treat the ghosts of Crohy Tower on Halloween

Of course, we make a small detour to visit the tower, which does seems to have seen better days. Yet, considering the views from this promontory point, which encompass the whole sway of coast that extends between Glencollumbkille and Ardara, we definitely see why you'd want to build a signal tower here.

Somewhere behind this rocky tip, lies Port, one of the most isolated point you may reach by road in Ireland

Coming back from the tower, and further down the road, we also can't fail to notice the large "74 EIRE" sign (that curiously doesn't seem to be visible on satellite images - Is this new?) which I'll leave up to you to interpret the meaning of...

In this day and age, who still uses primitive stones to convey a message?

No more than few hundred metres from our sign, we also come across yet another fine example of a sea arch. Having the advantage of not being bound to a petrol-fuelled vehicle today, we do take this opportunity to get as close as we can get to this natural stone monument, by venturing onto the edge of the coastal cliff. It does pay to go around this small peninsula on foot.

Is it me, or does County Donegal appear to have have an unusually large amount of sea arches?

Yet, outside of trying to venture a bit too close to the coast and some of its minor precipitous drops, this is not a strenuous walk at all and we are soon passing across the many bungalows and farm houses of Crohy village, standing as peaceful and tranquil as an Irish coastal village can be on a Sunday afternoon. There isn't much life to greet us there, apart from a few barking dogs as well as some sheep, that looks like it managed to run away before the farmer was done shaving its woollen coat.

Woollen shorts are soooo in fashion this summer!

Then, after yet another bend, we finally get to uncover the lush valleys and hills that surround Glenties and Ardara, even as they are partially lit by a capricious sun.

The highs of Glenties/Ardara

Given that the place where we stopped is also a dedicated viewpoint for motorists, there exists a large concrete slab there, intended to serve as a picnic table. Of course we are going to put it to good use by applying it as an impromptu tripod for a few zoomed shots of the tantalizing cliff faces, on the other side of the bay. We have to go for a walk here, some day...

The rugged coastline on the other side of Gweebarra Bay

And now it is time to leave the road.

Even as we said we wanted to take it easy for a change, this is a bit too easy a walk for our taste, and we can't help but find ourselves wanting for that little extra bit of challenge. Plus, since we are officially on an exploratory expedition, we don't want to follow a welcoming but boring tarmac for ever. Instead, we feel compelled to go see what we find, amidst the wilderness that calls us beyond the road...

Discounting some wild birds that start crying in distress in order to alert their kind about the prospect of an adventurer crossing into their territory, the inside of the peninsula is even more peaceful than the road, if that's even possible. We are also satisfied to find that, with the absence of rain from the past few weeks, the progression is as easy as can get. It isn't long, then, before we find ourselves on the shores of a lake.

This is no surprise - The Dungloe region is literally home to thousands of small lakes, leftovers from the relentless grinding of hundred-metres high glaciers that used to cover this region, before eventually receding, thousands of years ago. As such, you'll barely be able to walk more than a few hundred metres in any direction across these lands, before coming face to face with yet another body of water.

Lough Nameenagh

But let's put a name to these lakes. That first one we've just encountered is Lough Nameenagh. But that barely counts as a "name enough". Thus, shortly after that, we come across Lough Nafalla, covered with what appears to be high bulrush.

Lough Nafalla

Yet, how could we "not follow" Nafalla with one more: Lough Atallan.

Lough Atallan

Atallan is hardly "at (it) alone" though. From this vantage point, we are also getting clear views of the shores of Lough Aghnish, the largest of them all.

But I suppose all these bad puns on these lake names are beginning to put you into some semblance of agony, or "agony-ish" if you will, so I guess I'm just going to stop there and not try rub any more "Salt" in it (which, yes you have guessed, is the name another close-by lake, which we didn't get to visit)...

Lough Aghnish

Considering the string of lakes we are passing by, you may also be starting to wonder if, possibly, we might have picked the spot we started to cross inland on the map, so as to ensure that we'd come across as many of these as possible. But it's not like I would ever make you believe, on this reputable blog, that something that happened at random was in fact carefully planned, or that some other thing, that I presented as if it was meticulously planned, actually happened completely at random, so as to make this casual blogger look better... Everything you read here is 100% true, I swear!

Or, is it...?


Anyway, from the shores of Lough Atallan, which is the location were our GPS gave up on tracking our progress, it's an easy way down towards Aghnish and then back to the official and well signalled hiking trail that skirts it, even as the Glasgow flight (I think), that just departed from the picturesque Donegal Airport, not that far off, decides to make its navigational turn right over our head.

Do yourself a favour, and land at Donegal Airport - It is after all one of the most scenic airports in the world!

Now that we have rejoined the hiking trail, on which we'll spend the end of our walk completely alone, it's smooth sailing back to the car. One last glance at Aran Island, standing tantalizing proud in the distance, and we can call it a day.

Ah to be a cow, and spend one's days enjoying the view of Aran Island and Dungloe Bay

Suggested Sound Track

The place is definitely a bit too quiet, so we'll contrast this with something that also looks quiet on the surface, but packs an insidious punch coupled with some threatening undertones. Hence:

• Depeche Mode - Dream On 

Additional Pictures

 

Croaghnadownies - In colour!

Click on this image to see our track in Google Maps

And we are back to Croaghnadownies. This time, in daylight!

The old house

Parked at our usual place, near the old abandoned house. From there, we head straight for the hills were ferns are growing nicely... and may soon become a small bother for hillwalkers.

In terms of weather, we are definitely continuing with this pure turf-cutter spell (in other words, sunny and dry) we've been having over the past couple of weeks. And indeed, turf-cutters are out in force, as demonstrated by the amount of peat briquettes and trenches around.

This is what a freshly cut turf field looks like

For sure, this year's late spring has been a great season for these guys - they couldn't have wished for more clement weather for this activity.

Our aspirations, however, lie elsewhere and soon find ourselves climbing the slopes of Croaghnadownies, which we know almost by heart by now.

It may look so on this picture, but it's not really that high...

While progressing rapidly upwards, we manage to scare a couple of partridges along with their small offspring, that desperately tries to run away since it cannot yet fly, whereas its parents keep a stern and agitated watch, at some distance. Thankfully, it's not in our habit to disturb a peaceful family (even for pictures) so we leave our soon to be reunited fowl friends, and continue our climb under the other watchful eyes of the various flock of sheep we disturb.

Yet another fine example of the proud-looking Donegal sheep

And thus, with the wild (and not-so-wild) life behind us, we find ourselves soon enough at the top of our hill, with some good, if not misty views, of an all too familiar Lough Nambraddan along with its surroundings.

Lough Nambraddan and a misty Sheephaven Bay

Even then, the weather is just too fine today. So we're going to help ourselves with another generous serving of gorgeous sights & fresh air, and push a bit further, towards Croaghhullagh.

Alright, let's go there!

Before doing so, since it is decidedly a bit too warm after our short climb, even in this late hour, we find that we have no choice but to remove yet another layer of clothing. How people manage to live under hot climates, when a medium paced walk in 24°C is already way too hot, is beyond my comprehension...

Still, the evening does suit itself for some splendid pictures, while we make our merry way, and we can't help but taking a snap back at Horn Head under the colourful sunlight from this peaceful evening.

Ards, and Horn peninsula in the quiet evening light

From the furthest point of our impromptu hike, we also get some good sights of Lough Anirvore, the shores of which I'll probably bring you upon, some day...

Lough Anirvore

However, since this is supposed to be a short after work affair, it is now time to head back.

But not before we take a last glance at the towering splendour of Errigal, Snaght and friends in the distance.

Looking back towards the west and the towering summits that populate it

Suggested Sound Track

• The Christians - I found out

Since we're talking about Colour.

Not that the tagline was a direct reference to that album. If anything, it would be a reference to the way too short-lived TV comedy Police Squad!. But you were not really supposed to know about that.

Of course, since this is an Irish themed blog, you'd probably have expected me to pick the no less excellent & Irish Trad based Words, from the Colour album. However, I kind of feel like it has been played to death, and these days I tend to enjoy this second track more, as a self-contained entity.

Additional Pictures