Discovering the Less Crowded Europe: a Slow Traveler’s Tale of Bulgaria
Europe is crowded. Walk through Prague’s Old Town in summer and you’ll move shoulder-to-shoulder with tour groups. Try to photograph Santorini’s blue domes and you’ll wait your turn behind a hundred smartphones. But drive two hours south of Sofia into the Rila Mountains, and you might be the only tourist for miles.
Bulgaria isn’t on most travelers’ radars, and that’s precisely what draws us in.
Eric and I have spent years chasing authentic travel experiences, seeking places where ancient traditions still pulse through daily life, where culture remains unpolished by tourism, and where hospitality flows from genuine curiosity rather than commercial transaction. Bulgaria promises all of this. For one month, we embark on a slow discovery roadtrip, staying in small family guesthouses, hiking Bulgaria’a national parks, visiting monasteries, and surrendering to whatever Bulgaria wants to teach us.
This isn’t a checklist trip. This is a story about what happens when you stop touring and start living somewhere, even briefly. About rakia-fueled conversations that veer from Orthodox mysticism to mushroom theories. About passing carpets down a human chain in medieval streets while locals laugh and photograph the absurdity. About the kind of travel that leaves you different than when you arrived.
A Soft Landing in Sofia
After landing in Sofia, a driver whisks us to our hotel, where we soon meet Irina from Odysseia-In, the company who has designed our trip and will be ensuring everything runs smoothly over the next 22 days. Over coffee, Irina walks us through our itinerary, sprinkling in advice about food, driving and Bulgarian life.
That evening, Oysseia-In’s founder, Lubomir, takes us to dinner and leads us on a walking tour of the city. It’s a gift to see a new city through the eyes of someone who loves his home so fiercely and wants you to love it too. He walks us through empires—Roman, Byzantine, Ottoman, Soviet—each one leaving its architectural signature on the city. Bulgarian history is a story of survival between competing powers, of maintaining identity while surrounded by those who want to absorb it. Standing in Sofia, you feel this tension still. Church domes glitter with Byzantine gold while Soviet monuments loom gray in the periphery. Turkish mosques sit blocks from Orthodox cathedrals. The city refuses to be just one thing.
The next day we wander Sofia on our own. At Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, we crane our necks toward gilt ceilings and try to comprehend the scale. But it’s the smaller St. Nedelya Church that captures something more intimate. We slip in during evening vespers, arriving just as a wedding concludes. The bride and groom stand illuminated while a choir’s voices rise into the dome. Tourists with cameras hover at the periphery, but the moment belongs entirely to the couple, their loved ones, and the centuries of faith that have filled this space before them.
Besides visiting churches and museums, we do what we always do in a new place: we go to the grocery store. It’s an unglamorous ritual, but there’s no faster education in a country’s food culture. We wander the aisles decoding Cyrillic labels at the Central Market Hall and enjoy a light dinner on the second floor, gazing down at people going about their daily routines.
Our rental car is delivered to the hotel (Odysseia-In is ensuring I’m spoiled for all future travel). The driver hands over the keys, warns Eric not to speed, and our slow travel Bulgarian road trip officially begins!
Into the Rila Mountains: Lakes, Monks & Banitsa
We take the ski lift up to the famous Seven Rila Lakes trail, joining what feels like half of Bulgaria’s youth making the pilgrimage on a brilliant late-summer day. The trail winds upward past each successive lake, each one distinct in color and character. An old woman breezes past me smoking a cigarette.
The following day we hike Malyovitsa…
Our family-run guesthouse in the small village of Govedartsi gives us the Bulgaria we’ve hoped to find. Dinner is served outside under covered benches: chopped cabbage and carrot salad, fire-oven bread drenched in olive oil, and trout stuffed with lemon, garlic, and a fish-loving Bulgarian herb that apparently has no English name (Eric insists it was lovage). Dessert is apple cake and homemade baklava.
But the food is almost secondary to the conversations that unfold over shots of rakia. The two brothers who run the guesthouse with their mother have strong opinions on everything: Bulgarian politics, theology & Marxism, the meaning of family, the importance of maintaining traditions in a modernizing world. The paradox of Balkan identity, wedged between East and West. One brother goes on a passionate tangent about “mushroom children”—a surreal theory we never quite understand but nod along to anyway. Their English is limited, our Bulgarian nonexistent, but somehow the meaning carries through gesture and laughter and the universal language of hospitality.
The next morning, Mama shows us traditional gowns worn by her mother and grandmother, then points reverently to an icon of Saint Ivan of Rila. He had appeared to her in a dream, she says, and has protected her ever since. Breakfast is French toast, homemade berry jam, watermelon, and the ever-present Bulgarian cheese.
My favorite nugget of wisdom from our host Nikolaj:
“Children are like mushrooms – you don’t expect them, but they are miracles.”
Banitsa & Bulgarian Dance Lessons
At Deshka Guest House in Gorno Draglishte, a woman teaches us to make banitsa (a cornerstone of Bulgarian cuisine), then dresses us in traditional costumes along with a group of Swiss travelers. Eric gets pulled into a circle dance and plasters a painful “I love my wife and that’s the only reason I’m doing this” smile on his face. I’ll confess, I’m not a fan of sweating in these heavy woolen clothes as we dance under full sunlight, but Elena’s “Brava! Super!” encourages me to sink into this moment. We eat the bread we baked, along with bean stew, salad, cheese and pink fruit juice (my new addiction). And yes, more rakia, which helps Eric relax after his humiliating dance performance.
Pirin National Park: Beauty Cut Short
Our hike in Pirin National Park should be one of the trip’s highlights. We’ve heard the Banderishki Lakes rival anything in the Alps with their turquoise water surrounded by granite peaks.
We arrive at the Vihren Hut trailhead before nine, parking among a handful of other cars, and start up through forests that smell of pine and cold stone. The trail climbs steadily, emerging above treeline into a landscape of loose rock, wildflowers and a crystal clear stream. Eric’s stomach has been upset all morning and I don’t feel well enough to finish the trail, but even a half-day in Pirin National Park is better than most full days elsewhere.
Our hotel in Bansko is hot (no air-conditioning) and the shower drains into the hallway through a small hole in the tile, but the food is fantastic! Homemade soups, grilled meats, fresh salads. I’d happily return to hike this area and stay in a nice little cabin or apartment.
Melnik & Southwestern Bulgaria
Of all the places we visit in Bulgaria, Melnik is the most unique. With its beautifully preserved Bulgarian Revival buildings set amidst an unreal landscape of sand pyramids, it’s like Bryce Canyon and Tuscany got high on mushrooms and had a Bulgarian baby. This is wine country and our tour at Villa Melnik is excellent, offering us 6 wines to taste (our faves are the barrel aged Sweet Wine and a very well aged Bergulé Chardonnay).
Besides having a luxurious guesthouse and access to wineries, Melnik is a good base for visiting Rozhen Monastery, which turns out to be my favorite in Bulgaria. We follow a dry river bed on our hike from Melnik to Rozhen which takes us directly through the sand pyramids.
The Rhodopes: Bulgaria's Working Mountains
The Rhodope Mountains in southern Bulgaria feel fundamentally different from the Rila range. Where Rila is dramatic and alpine, the Rhodopes are forested and alive with human activity. Lumber trucks rumble past on narrow roads. Quarries bite into hillsides.
We pass through Muslim villages in the Rhodopes, where the blue jackets and scarves of the women stand out against the endless forests. It’s a part of Bulgaria many travelers miss, mostly because tourism is still being developed in this region. We visit the village of Ribnovo, where local women demonstrate their traditional wedding ceremony. They give me traditional clothing to try on and treat us to a beautifully prepared lunch. Communicating is a challenge and this unpolished experience is slightly uncomfortable at times, but it’s also what makes this moment a more authentic cultural exchange. We feel lucky to have been welcomed by this community.
We arrive in Kovachevitsa and our itinerary tells us we may need to call our host for help with parking. Staring at the narrow curving cobblestone street that barely looks wide enough for a donkey cart, we understand why. I WhatsApp Asen and he assures me our VW Golf will fit, and it does…barely.
Kovachevitsa is old and crumbly in all the best ways, and it’s easy to see why young artists adorn the streets to paint and draw this ancient beauty. Our guesthouse is lovely, with beautiful views overlooking a terraced garden where our host plays his guitar and sings traditional Bulgarian music. Asen is a talented musician, excellent vegetarian cook and has a bubbly adventurous spirit – if I didn’t know any better I’d swear he was from California.
Driving through Trigrad Gorge is a delight, even though we dislike the hike that day. Limestone cliffs rise hundreds of feet straight up from the road, so narrow in places that you can almost touch both walls. There is a lot of tourism here and it’s much too crowded with Jeeps carrying tourists to scenic viewpoints.
Our next hike is much better. We walk the Eco-Trail Smolyan Waterfalls, crossing wooden bridges through shady forest where water tumbles down amidst autumn foliage. It’s accessible, well-maintained, and blissfully uncrowded. Also uncrowded is Bachkovo Monastery, which has a more Mediterranean style and an aviary.
Central Balkan Generosity & Art
The Central Balkan Mountains cut straight across Bulgaria, protecting age-old traditions and crafts that are unique to this region. We spend one night in Plovdiv, one of the oldest continuously inhabited places in Europe. As the sun sets, we wander the cobblestone streets of Old Town, watching golden light spill across Roman amphitheater ruins and revival-era houses.
Our drive north toward Troyan Monastery takes us through remote landscapes. We stop at a spring flowing from a mountainside, just a pipe and a rough stone basin, and fill our bottles with the coldest, cleanest water we’ve tasted.
We’re staying in Drashkova Polyana with well-known potter Encho and his equally talented wife Velichka (a photographer). Neither speaks English so a young woman joins us each day to act as interpreter, participating in the pottery lessons and joining us for dinner.
Encho is patient and kind and Vili is a ball of energy, especially when she takes us for a “walk in nature” which turns out to be a bushwacking experience through a forest with no trails. I’m reminded of my childhood growing up in the woods of Calcasieu, Louisiana. Vili explains the martenitsas we see tied to tree branches, their red and white threads brightening bare wood and inviting good health.
Our last evening with Encho and Vili is spent visiting with their friends, who speak English and keep us entertained with their stories about running the National Sciences Museum in nearby Cherni Osam.
Veliko Tarnovo: the Soul of Bulgaria
If Bulgaria has a heart, it might be Veliko Tarnovo. The medieval capital perches above the Yantra River, fortress walls climbing hills in dizzying layers. Our guide Elitsa brings the history alive, walking us along the fortress walls while explaining centuries of tsars, battles, and Bulgaria’s brief golden age before Ottoman conquest.
Elitsa meets us early to join a group of volunteers helping move a collection of hundreds of kilims (traditional rugs) across town, by hand! We form human chains, passing priceless rugs across streets and down staircases while locals gawk at us.
On Samovodska Charshia (the crafts street), we wander cobbled lanes lined with workshops where artisans throw pottery, carve wood, and weave kilims using traditional methods. I spot a rattle designed after Thracian artifacts and we spend all our remaining levs in the shops here.
We visit icon painter Bonev, whose dog celebrated his birthday today (he shows us the dog’s passport). When I tell him I want to buy one of his daughter’s paintings, he shakes his head. “This is precious. It is special only for me.” So we buy one of his icons instead — the Madonna with three hands, a symbol of miracles.
Everywhere we stay, we encounter generosity that leaves us humbled. Hosts give us handmade gifts: lace doilies, a ceramic bell, rose oil lotion, plum jam and apple cake. Guides invite us to dinner and a music concert with friends. These aren’t transactions or tourist interactions. They’re invitations into Bulgarian life, freely offered.
Nessebar: Where Mountains Meet Sea
Our final stop carries us to the Black Sea and the ancient town of Nessebar. We walk cobblestone streets past Byzantine ruins and medieval churches. The town is too touristy for my liking, it’s a UNESCO World Heritage site, but visiting in shoulder season gives us space to appreciate it without crowds. We sit at a seaside restaurant eating grilled fish and watching waves break against stone foundations laid two thousand years ago.
Why Bulgaria Belongs on Your Map
Bulgaria maintains a strong national identity precisely because it has been squeezed between empires for centuries. It’s neither Eastern nor Western Europe but something distinct: Orthodox Christian with Ottoman influences, Slavic with Thracian roots, European but Balkan to its bones.
You feel the culture here. It’s present in the food. Mekitsa for breakfast, kavarma for dinner, shopska salad and fresh bread. Cheese that tastes like grass and sunshine. Every meal generously portioned, every host watching to ensure you’re eating enough. It’s experienced through the people who take pride in showing you their country, not as a product packaged for tourists but as a living, evolving place.
And practically speaking, Bulgaria remains affordable. Our month of guesthouses, meals, and experiences costs less than two weeks in Western Europe. It’s uncrowded and beautiful in ways that haven’t been photographed into cliché.
Bulgaria is perfect for anyone craving slow travel and authentic encounters. For people tired of mass tourism. For those who want to sit at a family table, attempt broken conversations, learn to stretch dough, and pass carpets down human chains for reasons you’ll never quite understand.
Why We Keep Returning to the Balkans
I feel the need to revisit the Balkans every few years to keep myself in balance, to remind me of how I was raised. Midway through this journey, I see an old woman stooped over using a broom with no handle, sweeping the path in front of her simple home. It brings to mind my mother who has a similar broom at home that she insists on using, despite the handle barely hanging on with duct tape. That value of not replacing things just because something is slightly broken resonates strongly with me.
This is what the Balkans give me. These places feel essential in ways that more polished destinations don’t. They ground me. They remind me that usefulness trumps perfection, that the best things in life can’t be curated or purchased, that there’s dignity in making do with what you have. That national strength lies not with economic power but with the heart of its people.
Plan Your Own Bulgarian Journey
If this resonates, if you’re ready to trade crowded landmarks for mountain villages, curated experiences for genuine hospitality, consider Bulgaria for your next European adventure.
Ready to design your own Bulgarian odyssey? Visit Trips to Walkabout for custom itinerary planning that honors slow travel and authentic connection. And read our review of Odysseia-in to see why we love working with this company.
Our Love for BC Canada Continues with Vancouver Island
Eric and I began the year with trains and pilgrimage walks in Japan, followed by Irish ferries, buses and hillwalking. Now we’re closing it with a road trip to Vancouver Island. These journeys remind me to cherish the act of travel itself, regardless of destination or means of transport.
This is Part 3 of our 2024 Road Trip West.
World's Best Burger in Cumberland
We arrive by ferry as sunset approaches and stop in Cumberland for dinner at Cook’s, home of THE BEST BURGER I’ve ever eaten! This former mining town, now host to an annual Fungus Fest, carries a laid-back vibe with its dispensaries and youthful energy.
First Impressions of Campbell River
Our Campbell River Airbnb, affectionately dubbed “Granny’s Attic” by Eric, overlooks Discovery Passage. We wake to fog over the water and a light rain, and I embrace this weather because it means I’m in my happy place – the Pacific Northwest.
Market Shopping
Eric is in his happy place when we visit the Campbell River farmer’s market, one of the best markets we’ve been to. Great balance of food and local art vendors, all friendly and happy to chat with strangers. We leave with lighter wallets but happy hearts, our bags full of local produce, smoked salmon, jerky, and artwork. Folk music and fresh croissants from Freyja’s complete the scene.
Hiking the Forests near Campbell River
Rain plagues us throughout our time in Campbell River, so we forget our plans to hike in Strathcona Park and resign ourselves to beautiful walks in the Beaver Lodge Forest Lands and Elk Falls Provincial Park. No complaints – these forests rival Washington’s Olympic National Park in their magic.
Hunting for Art
Between raindrops, we hunt for wooden art along the waterfront. Since 1997, the “Transformations on the Shore” chainsaw competition has filled Campbell River with sculptures depicting local wildlife and First Nations themes. The town has significant First Nations art installations and several excellent art galleries.
Small Sacrifices for a Nomad Life
I find myself grumbling one day about the rain and the fact that the oven and dryer don’t work at this Airbnb, but quickly chastise myself for complaining. I’m on a beautiful island with the man I love, doing the work I love, while being able to travel. It doesn’t get any better than this.
Warm Hospitality in a Cup
It’s still raining the day we leave the east coast of Vancouver Island, so we stop for comfort food at The Soup Pot in Courtenay. This is one of those local eateries that most people would pass on the street and never notice, but you’d be missing out on the best cheese scones and hearty soups imaginable! And lovely owners, who give you a sample to help you decide what soup to order.
Thoughts on Tofino
I want to love Tofino, because everyone I’ve spoken to about Vancouver Island says “oh you MUST visit Tofino!” Now that we’re here, I can admire the beautiful beaches set amidst rainforest, the artsy surfer town with its youthful “anything is possible” vibe. But paradise comes at a price: expensive lodging, paid parking and crowds (even in shoulder season). Don’t get me wrong, this place is special, but it’s a tiny piece of land that is loved by many, so it’s best visited during the off season.
Why Ucluelet Wins Our Hearts
Eric and I love Ucluelet! The town itself lacks the hipster vibe and easily walkable design of Tofino, but the trail system here is magnificent and it’s free. Parking is free in Ucluelet, it has a good grocery store and restaurants, and it’s still close enough to Tofino to enjoy everything this region has to offer. Lodging is also cheaper (for now).
The Wild Pacific Trail
My breath catches as we begin our hike along the Wild Pacific Trail in Ucluelet. We begin on the Artists Loops and Ancient Cedars, awestruck at the ancient forest and crashing waves. It’s all coastal trail, rarely do we lose sight of the ocean.
We walk the Lighthouse Loop on a Saturday, so we share trail space with several families with young children. Hearing their squeals of glee every few feet as they get a new glimpse of the ocean or spot a spooky looking old tree just adds to our enjoyment of this beautiful trail.
Most Interesting Man in the World
We call him Bob Sooke and he’s the most interesting man on Vancouver Island that we’ve met. Bob is our Airbnb host in the town of Sooke, and we spend hours visiting with him during our stay. He’s a whirlwind of knowledge and stories, and I’m still questioning half of what he tells us about hiring a helicopter in South America to fly over a mountain no one’s ever flown over. Or his comment about solo hiking some of the most remote long-distance trails in northern British Columbia. “You just charter a boat and hop out of a helicopter and you can hike it, easy peasy.” Uh huh.
Sooke, a Hiker's Paradise
Besides charming local personalities, Sooke bespells us with its proximity to TONS and TONS of hiking trails. All of Vancouver Island is a hiking paradise, but Sooke especially so. We stretch our legs that first night by walking across the street to watch the sunset from Marine Boardwalk and Macgregor Park. Families are crabbing from the docks and it feels reminiscent of coastal Louisiana.
Hiking East Sooke Park
The following day we explore East Sooke Regional Park. LOVE this park! We start on the west side at Silver Spray Trailhead, thankful that Bob gave us directions because this entry is not well marked. We wander for awhile along Pike Point and Iron Mine Bay Beach, where we watch scuba divers swim alongside an otter.
We then follow the Coast Trail, marveling at the gorgeous views and comparing this trail to coastal hikes in Oregon.
We take our time on this trail, often stopping to sit under a shady tree to watch more scuba divers or listen to the wind moving through the trees. We walk as long as we wish before turning around to loop back a different way, heading into the forest.
The East side of East Sooke Park is equally stunning, albeit more crowded, which is obvious as soon as we arrive at the huge Aylard Farm parking lot. It’s popular because there are so many hidden coves and beaches, all easily accessible with a short walk.
Besides the beautiful hidden beaches, trees are a highlight of this section of the park. We walk through old growth Coastal Western Hemlock, Douglas Fir and Western Red Cedars, but the red barked Madrona plants are what capture my attention. They call them Arbutus trees here.
Coastal Walks in Juan de Fuca
It’s a little over one hour to reach on a bumpy road, but we enjoy the coastal drive along Hwy 14 to reach Botanical Beach in Juan de Fuca Park. Once again, our jaws drop at the beauty before us.
The walk through dense forest is pretty by itself and the views at Botany Bay and Botanical Beach are just icing on the cake.
We tried to get here for low tide but manage mid-tide instead, which means we miss some of the best tidepools. But Eric and I are fine with that, there’s a resident Bald Eagle perched in his aerie here at the beach and it’s currently not raining.
Braving the Juan de Fuca Trail
Eric thinks he’s here for easy beach walks, but I convince him to set out on a section of the Juan de Fuca Trail. This is one of the most challenging multi-day trails in British Columbia, mostly due to coastal erosion and high tides. I have no intention of ever thru-hiking this trail, so I just want a glimpse of it.
Less than two miles in, we encounter poor trail conditions and fresh scat and large paw prints in the mud. Believing this to be cougar, we turn around. Actually, Eric sprints away and I have to remind him “safety in numbers!”
Moody Vibes at Pacheedat Beach
Back in our car, we drive to Pacheedat Beach to enjoy a quiet picnic lunch. A storm is moving in and this is the perfect beach to watch it unfold, although my hands are frozen stiff. Between the mist, cold weather and a crow who won’t leave us alone, I’m getting serious Winterfell vibes and hearing the Game of Thrones soundtrack in my head. We run back to the car when it starts raining.
A Perfect Ending
Our last day on Vancouver Island couldn’t have ended more perfectly. We experience rush hour traffic on the way to Victoria and quickly decide to avoid the city entirely, diverting instead to Butchart Gardens. Perfect decision.
We arrive as the gardens open, which means we miss the worst of the crowds, although they quickly appear within the hour. We roam the grounds, often retracing our steps to get a different view.
Eric and I have seen some beautiful gardens. Longwood in Pennsylvania, Ohme in Washington, Keukenhof in The Netherlands, temple gardens in Kyoto – we appreciate how each reflects its creators’ vision.
The gardens take less time than we expected, so we enjoy an early lunch at Seahorses Cafe in Brentwood Bay. We visit with our Aussie waitress from Melbourne and drool over the best cauliflower bites ever! Then we spend 2 hours at the public library, where we meet a retired doctor who is a fellow travel blogger. I shake my head in acknowledgment when he says “libraries are the perfect place to meet interesting people.”
Final Thoughts of the Island
Vancouver Island embodies the perfect blend of wild nature and welcoming communities. Time slows down here and every moment reminds us why we continue to return to the Pacific Northwest. Often the best journeys are those that have no itinerary, and small moments such as finding friendship in a library corner become the most memorable activity.
Stay tuned for one last post, as we begin The Journey Back Home.
Walking to Carrick & the Slieve League Cliffs
Our 20 days in Ireland, walking the Bluestack Way and Slí Cholmcille and volunteering for a HelpX on Clare Island, is coming to an end. And while our second day on the Slí Cholmcille might be my least favorite of the entire trip, our last 2 days in Ireland make up for it with a beautiful hike to the Slieve League Cliffs and an evening with friends in Dublin.
Day 2 Walking the Slí Cholmcille
Looks like another day of full sun as we head uphill out of town, offering us expansive views of the village from a different viewpoint. We stop at Byrne’s, the only food store within walking distance of our B&B. In the summer they offer pre-packaged sandwiches but we’re here in off-season so options are limited to mostly snack foods. Thankfully we’ve packed emergency beef jerky and protein bars, so we won’t starve.
We quickly see signs of active peat harvesting. We’ve been smelling the peat fires throughout town as many locals prefer to use it for heat and sentimental reasons, but now we get to see how they harvest and dry it. People have different methods, but here they are stacking it in little teepee shaped piles. Once dried, these hardened peat bricks are thrown into bags and collected as needed.
We enjoy the soft crunch of gravel and the pillowy softness of dried bog grass beneath our feet while we sweat off our breakfast. Not liking this hot sun, but grateful for an easier walk today (or so I think).
After some road walking, we leave the pavement to follow a forest through a short stretch of boggy terrain. The landscape is so barren here and it’s blazing hot with no relief from the sun. I’m not loving this route today.
But really, I shouldn’t complain, because the blue sky is gorgeous and we’re approaching a lake with mountains all around us.
A bit of open hillwalking through boggy fields that are relatively dry (thanks to the sun I keep complaining about).
But then we begin our climb up Crockunna, one of those Irish hills that feels like a mountain. There’s no clear path and it’s quite boggy, but there are waymarking posts offering a general direction up. We find a wall of raised earth and boulders, following it up as far as we can. I am sooooooo happy to reach the summit!
More open hillwalking but the descent is much easier as we walk towards Carrick. We have lovely views of the River Glen which spills out into the Atlantic Ocean and the barren terrain opens up into bright green pathways lined with yellow gorse.
Arriving into town, we stop at a small market to purchase snacks. We’re too tired and grubby to eat at the Slieve League Lodge, which boasts the only restaurant in town that’s open at the moment. We’ll come back for dinner later.
We’re staying about 1 mile south of Carrick, closer to Teelin and the Slieve League Cliffs. There’s a pretty river walk that takes us directly from town to O’Neill’s B&B, where once again we are greeted by a friendly face and a comfortable room to rest. Our room is spacious with skylights and windows facing the river.
It rains the next day, so we spend it relaxing in our room and walking more along the river walk. On the road to Teelin, just a few feet from our B&B, there’s a coffee truck called Brew In Thru where we get sandwiches and coffee.
Visiting Slieve League Cliffs
At breakfast we chat with Germaine and Mark from Wisconsin and I feel like we’re long-lost friends. We’ll see them again later today, as the skies have cleared and we’re all heading to the Slieve League Cliffs.
Besides being famous for their natural splendor, the Cliffs serve as the start of the International Appalachian Trail (IAT) in Ireland. They are more than 2x higher than the Cliffs of Moher and just shy of being the highest sea cliffs in Ireland — that honor goes to the Croaghaun Cliffs on Achill Island. Our host drops us off at the official Sliabh Liag Visitor’s Centre, where we meet up again with our new friends from Wisconsin. We say a quick hello to Roisin, who works at the center, and hop on a quick shuttle up to the Bunglas Viewpoint.
As expected, there are a lot of people here, but once we hike up towards the top we lose most of them. Only daredevils attempt to walk One Man’s Pass, which traverses the tip of the cliffs and connects with the Pilgrim’s Path to return to the village of Teelin. We walk as far as we can until losing visibility in the fog.
Instead of taking the return shuttle, we walk back down to Teelin. The Wisconsin couple joins us and we swap travel stories all the way down. It’s a clear day so we have gorgeous views of Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Coast looking south. We can also see Carrigan Head and the old signal tower, built by the British in the early 1800s to warn of French invasions.
Back in the village, we part ways with the Wisconsins who are stopping at a cafe. We’re determined to eat at The Rusty Mackerel, even though we don’t have reservations. Our hosts and our notes from Tailor-Made Tours warned us about this, but in our excitement to reach the cliffs we simply forgot. After a long wait and drinks in the pub, we eventually get a table. The atmosphere is worth the wait and the cuisine is good solid Irish comfort food.
We finish our day by walking back to our B&B on Teelin Road. It’s a busy road and there’s little room on the sides to step away from traffic, but the views are lovely and we stop again at the coffee truck.
Return to Dublin
It’s the end of our walking holiday in Donegal so we say goodbye to the O’Neills who have been excellent hosts. They’ve scheduled a taxi for our return to Donegal Town, a splurge since we could have taken the local bus. Our taxi driver is the youngest of 7 children. He lives in Kilcar where his 83yr old dad still runs the family pub (John Joe’s Pub) that he took over from his father. The drive along this coastline is stunning and Eric and I make a mental promise to return with a car someday to drive the entire Donegal and Northern Ireland coast.
Our packs are lighter as we arrive in Donegal Town, and that’s because Eric and I both have left our hiking boots behind. It’s fitting that we purchased our boots for our first hiking trip to Ireland in 2016. After treading paths all over the world, they finally meet their end back in Ireland.
We enjoy a luxurious brunch at the Abbey Hotel while waiting for our bus which will take us to Dublin. Sean and Michelle have graciously offered to share their home with us tonight and their daughter even gives up her bedroom. Yes, we could have stayed in a hotel near the airport, but we have WAY more fun this way!
I’ve worked with Sean for the past year but we’ve never met in person. Can’t think of a better way to end our time in Ireland than with this fun-loving family! Michelle cooks stone oven pizzas and salad while their young son Thomas roasts marshmallows to perfection and quizzes us on Irish words. We stuff our faces with homemade sticky pudding and daughter Ella shares her story of childhood trauma at airport customs when she snuck giant scissors into her luggage.
A friend pops in to drop off duck eggs and wish Michelle a happy 50th birthday. While sitting around the fire, which Thomas is gleefully building, the friend’s pup Luna entertains us with a poop fiasco all over the yard which culminates in a grand finale of a butt scoot all the way down the pavement. I laugh so hard that night that I go to bed with sore cheeks.
The morning before our flight, Sean takes us on a walk through Glasnevin Cemetery and the National Botanic Gardens. Sean and I discuss tourism and brainstorm ideas for enticing Americans to Ireland. It’s the perfect ending to a perfect trip, and it’s certainly not the last time we’ll visit Ireland. We loved our first trip to Dingle, but this time our experiences were so much richer. We spent more time connecting with people and all of our accommodations were owned by friendly innkeepers who welcomed us with open arms — that hospitality is the true beauty of Ireland.