Hiking Donegal’s Slí Cholmcille
Having completed the Bluestack Way from Donegal to Ardara, Eric and I begin a new walk along the Slí Cholmcille. This route is part of several long-distance and heritage trails. The Slí Cholmcille is one of 4 loop trails that make up the Bealach na Gaeltachta (Gaeltacht Way). The International Appalachian Trail (IAT) follows a section of this route, as does a pilgrimage walk that is currently being developed and will eventually end in Scotland.
We are walking a modified version of the Slí Cholmcille, designed by Tailor-Made Tours, covering Ardara to Kilcar plus the Slieve League Cliffs. Come walk with us…
Day 1 Walking the Slí Cholmcille
Total Distance: 14mi / 22km
Our first day on the Slí Cholmcille begins with a taxi to the supermarket to pick up lunch, then drop off at the Assaranca Waterfall. The first few miles are on a busy road but at least we have lovely views of an estuary and Loughros Beg Bay. Before we know it, we’re surrounded by mountains and rivers.
As our route notes suggest, we take a quick detour to explore Maghera Strand, considered to be one of the most beautiful beaches in Donegal. I wholeheartedly agree! I would travel to Ireland just to explore this long stretch of sand, surrounded by mountains, dunes, crystal clear lakes and sea caves.
Back on the road, we continue along the Slí Cholmcille, steadily climbing up into the mountains.
Passing through a picturesque valley with bleating lambs and a stream running down to the beach.
At the top, we exit the valley, walking towards an old stone cottage where we leave the roads and any semblance of civilization behind us.
This is the second most challenging part of our hiking in Donegal. Just like the Bluestack Way, Slí Cholmcille includes open hillwalking through hag bogs. The path is more defined here, with loose rock to help guide us through most of hills.
But at one point we reach a section where everything has been washed away, leaving the hags isolated far apart and separated by a thick morass of black tar-like mud. I have to slide down a hag and almost twist my ankle when I step into a sinkhole hiding underneath the reeds. In three different places we steal rocks off the trail and use them to create a pathway through the mud in order to get to the next waymarker.
The route also involves several small stream crossings, nothing difficult, but enough to keep things interesting. Stopping for lunch along a river, Eric nearly drops his sandwich in the water because his hands are shaking after a near-catastrophic fall down one of the hags. Hard not to smile when surrounded by so much beauty.
Once past the Glen River valley we pick up a road again. The countryside is beautiful, with traditional cottages and sheep being the highlight of this section.
It starts to rain again, has been off and on all day, but Eric and I don’t mind as long as it’s a light shower. Ireland is absolutely stunning no matter the weather.
And just like that, the rain stops as we reach Kiltyfanned Lough, where we enjoy lunch and we bask in the sun like lizards.
This road leads to An Port, a deserted fishing village with some of the most impressive views we’ve seen on Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Coast.
An Port is one of those “hidden gems” that many may know about but are often unwilling to hike or drive to this remote location. We meet up with an adventurous bloke who drove here. He says he likes American football, brings his boy to the NFL games when they come to London but he prefers the college games. He tells us we have to watch a game of hurling if we have a chance.
From An Port our path ascends uphill. We’re both tired at this point but the coastal views more than make up for our weary feet.
After walking up the back of Faugher Mountain, we begin a long descent into Cashel where we’re staying the next 2 nights. The hard tarmac road is brutal on our bruised feet, but again, such lovely views that it’s hard not to feel exquisite joy in this moment.
In town, we stop at the local market for food. Options are limited in this tiny convenience store but we’re too exhausted to be picky. Plenty of time for a hot meal and pub tomorrow.
When we arrive at Millstone B&B, Geraldine greets us with “oh, you must be wrecked!” It’s an apt description because I feel like a ship that’s been battered and tossed about, grateful to have reached shore. Her warm greeting is one of the things I love most about inn to inn hiking. When far from home, at the end of a long day of hiking, it’s comforting to know someone is waiting for you with a smile and hot cup of coffee or tea.
Rest Day in Glencolmcille
We have a day to rest and explore the beautiful village of Cashel. At breakfast, we visit with a young man from northern China who is traveling around Ireland by bus with no itinerary, just pottering around for a month. Says he took trains and boats to get here, no airplanes. Interesting is too simple a word for this guy. It’s a sunny day so I wash laundry and hang our clothes to dry on the lines outside before walking to town.
Lunch at the Folk Village
We walk to the Glencolmcille Folk Village, an open air museum with 7 buildings, each depicting various stages of rural life in Ireland. It’s an excellent collection of artifacts and they did a fantastic job of authentically re-creating living conditions. As we enter buildings, smelling the peat fire and old wool clothing and linens, it is easy to imagine what it would have been like to sleep in these tiny beds and live in these conditions.
The first building we enter has a life-size replica of Fr. James McDyer, who established the folk village in 1967 as a way to boost the local economy and preserve their cultural heritage. Fr. McDyer is fondly remembered as being an activist who tirelessly fought to improve living conditions in his rural parish. Sounds like someone my parents would have loved to meet.
Across the street from the folk village is a beautiful beach with the mountain that we hiked yesterday looming above. Glencolmcille is my favorite town in Donegal so far, at least for scenic beauty. Nestled at the sea between mountains and rocky outcroppings with rivers and verdant green pasture, this quiet slice of heaven calls to me on a visceral level.
As we walk back through town, visions of living the quiet life in such a beautiful place, we pass an old man in a kilt. Unfortunately it’s a windy day and my eyes just so happen to settle on him as he experiences a Marilyn Monroe moment. He’s a genuine Scotsman, that’s all I can say.
We end our nearly perfect day at John Eonin’s Pub, where we enjoy a fantastic meal and try carrageen moss pudding which is made from seaweed found off the south and west coast of Ireland. It’s delicious! Roisin joins us for drinks. Her brother owns Tailor-Made Tours and she works at the Slieve League Visitor Centre. She gives us all sorts of good advice and doesn’t seem to mind that I have tons of questions. She offers wonderful conversation and buys us a round. To my eternal shame, we forget to return the favor. Guess we’ll have to go back to Donegal and meet Roisin for another round of drinks. Oh darn. 😉
Our time in the lovely Cashel and Glencolmcille region might be over, but we still have one more day of hiking to reach Carrick on the Slí Cholmcille. Stick around for that and the Slieve League Cliffs.
Walking the Bluestack Way: A Donegal Adventure
Eric and I have been looking forward to our walking holiday in Donegal, Ireland ever since I began working with Tailor-Made Tours last year. Having worked on the route notes and info packages for all of their Ireland tours, I was drawn to their Donegal Way itinerary for two reasons. It’s a combination of two lesser-known routes, the Bluestack Way and the Sli Cholmcille, and it’s in a region of Ireland that I know virtually nothing about.
Turns out, Donegal is as extraordinarily beautiful as the rest of Ireland and those “in the know” have been vacationing here for years. Follow along as we explore the mountains and coast of Donegal on foot.
The Bus to Donegal
Most people begin the Donegal Way tour from Dublin, but we go rogue and add a week on Clare Island beforehand. Which makes getting to the starting point of our tour in Donegal Town a bit more complicated. Our day begins with a ferry from the island and a shuttle to Westport, where we hang out at the SuperValu cafe and walk the streets of Westport for 2 hours while waiting for the bus to Charlestown.
Our bus ride is going well until we hit construction, which delays us 15min. I feel slightly panicked when I realize this means we will miss our connection from Charleston to Donegal until we look at the app and it shows that our second bus has also been delayed. We’re lucky this time, but I can see how public transit causes people stress, especially in rural places where large transit stations don’t exist.
Will it arrive on time? Will I make my connection? Where can I hang out with my luggage between connections? Where will I pee? That last one is actually a valid concern. I thought we would have enough time between bus connections, but that isn’t the case today. Eric nearly gets left in Sligo when he takes a potty break. When I see the driver start up the bus, with no Eric in sight, I’m wondering what’s more important at this point — the luggage or the husband. Thankfully Eric arrives and I’m saved from this moral quandary.
Despite the near panic and discomfort of holding my bladder, I enjoy the bus ride to Donegal. This is beautiful countryside, passing the distinctive Benbulben and entering Co. Donegal through the coastal towns of Bundoran and Ballyshannon.
Arriving in Donegal Town, we walk to the Railway Lodge, our home for the next 3 nights. We are greeted at the door by our host Sheila, who is grinning from ear to ear and apologizing for the large bandage covering her nose. She tells us she just had a surgery the day before and “it looks worse than it feels.” The lodge, like its owner, is buttery sunshine and the warmth of hot tea and scones, you just can’t help but fall into the comfort of this place.
Dinner tonight is at Olde Castle Bar and it’s everything you want in an Irish pub restaurant. Lively atmosphere, the smell of old wood and stone, hearty stews and good Guinness. And to my delight, they serve Dingle Gin!
Exploring Donegal Town
At breakfast this morning we visit with Sheila and our fellow guest Paul from Switzerland. Paul is a repeat guest and when I ask him what brings him back, he says he likes that it is familiar. After years of traveling, he finds comfort in places that he has already visited and knows well. Donegal Ireland is such a place for him. Like us, he loves to walk and prefers traveling by public transportation instead of renting a car. He and Sheila share stories of what it used to be like traveling in Ireland by bus and train and how much it has improved in the last few years.
After breakfast, we walk the River Bank Loop which is a beautiful little 1.4mi walk that begins in town. We follow the river through a shady forest of mixed trees (birch, Scott pine, lime, hazel), passing fairy doors and houses, then circling around past farmland and returning to town.
We explore the ruins and cemetery of Donegal Abbey, a Franciscan friary founded in 1474 by Red Hugh O’Donnell and his mother Nuala O’Connor. Only a few walls remain but it’s a beautiful site where the river opens out into Donegal Bay.
Donegal Town is bustling today with lots of visitors, so we count ourselves lucky when we snag a table for lunch at the popular Blueberry Tea Room. It’s a cozy space with quirky decor and a hearty lunch menu, plus an excellent selection of desserts.
I fancy a bit of shopping so we visit Hanna Hats and the St Vincent de Paul Thrift Shop, where I buy a bright green and orange Ireland scarf. We then stop in at the Mustard Seed for tea and snacks.
This is a community tea room that operates solely on donations and acts as a gathering space for the Anglican Church parishioners as well as anyone who walks through their door. There are quite a few people when we enter and they all seem delighted to see us, welcoming us with conversation and cheery smiles. Eileen sits herself down at our table and proceeds to tell us almost all of her life story in less than 15 minutes. If you want good conversation and a place to feel welcome, the Mustard Seed is a true gem!
Bluestack Way, Section 1
We walk the first section of the Bluestack Way today, and it’s an eye-opening introduction to hiking in Donegal. The day begins with full sun, followed by a quick downpour, then sun and hail stones – all within the first hour of our walk.
We don’t mind the light rain and hail, however, as it keeps us cool and gives us beautiful photos as we pass through fields of gorse and old cottages.
Along the way we see a Brachan Pot, which was restored and placed near Lough Eske to commemorate those who died during the Great Famine and to thank those who donated to help feed survivors. I’m fascinated to learn that the Choctaw Indian Nation was one of those supporters. How beautiful that a nation of people still in the midst of their own suffering thought to help strangers across an ocean.
Another highlight of today’s walk is Lough Eske, a serene lake surrounded by rolling hills and the Bluestack Mountains. I’m disappointed that there are no benches or rocks to sit and eat our lunch by the lake, but we make it work. This is why we always pack a waterproof picnic blanket.
After the lake, there’s a steep walk up, passing a wooded area and a village, and then the real views open up. We are now in the Bluestack Mountains and it’s absolutely stunning!
It’s April, so the hills are still shades of brown and dark purple instead of the vivid green that most people associate with Ireland. Bright blue skies contrast with the stark landscape and I max out my Google Photo storage trying to capture every angle of the light.
While we’re enjoying the views, we unfortunately have to rush because we’ve miscalculated how long the walk would take us today. We’re supposed to meet a taxi at 5:00 which will return us to our B&B, so we spend the last hour trail running to get there on time.
The sun is relentless at this point and our feet are throbbing after walking on hard surfaces for 13 miles. We exit the Way earlier than our route notes suggest and cut through a road in order to make up time. Arriving at our pickup point with 20 minutes to spare, we have now walked 15 miles and we collapse on a stone wall and greet our taxi driver with heartfelt gratitude as she drives us back to Donegal.
Sheila makes sure we’ve survived our first day on the Bluestack before sending us upstairs for a hot cuppa and a nap. That evening Eric picks up pizza at Napoli Express, where the owner schools him on all things Guinness. He learns that Guinness is incredibly popular in Nigeria and that Gravediggers in Dublin has the best Guinness in Ireland (his opinion).
Railway Lodge Hospitality
It’s a full house at breakfast today. We visit with a couple from Oregon who are driving the entire northern coastline. Paul from Switzerland tells us he has walked 200km so far on this trip and he is just now “feeling his legs.” An older bloke, who is enjoying his retirement as a driver for Rabbies tour agency, winks at me as he says “I love this job, it keeps me away from my wife.” His smile is full of mischief, I bet his guests love him!
Our host Sheila easily converses with all of us, keeping the conversation flowing. I can see why her place is so popular and why her guests often return again and again. This is not a stuffy B&B where guests sit quietly at breakfast. Sheila runs The Railway Lodge like an old-fashioned boarding house, where guests are encouraged to interact and linger.
Bluestack Way, Section 2
Marie picks us up to drive us to our starting point for the 2nd section of the Bluestack Way. Besides running a chauffeur service with her husband, Marie leads day tours throughout Donegal County and especially loves helping people conduct genealogy research. By the time we reach our destination, my brain is overloaded with the names of her ancestors, her husband’s ancestors, and every family that has ever resided near Donegal Town.
Our walk begins with a peaceful oasis of trees, softly moving water, the ever-present whining of hungry lambs, and a graveyard. This section of the Bluestack Way circles around Disert Graveyard, which is aptly named since disert means “a place of solitude.”
Besides being a beautiful spot, the graveyard has some interesting history and traditions. There’s a megalith here and it is believed that your back pain will be relieved if you walk through the megalith and clockwise around it three times while reciting the Our Father and Hail Mary. I think it has more to do with the fact that walking up the hill to get here is good movement for stretching tight muscles, but who am I to argue with tradition?
I will admit to feeling quite relaxed after visiting Disert. It’s impossible not to with the sun shining down and the wind moving through the grass as we continue through the lonely landscape with not a soul in sight.
We reach an abandoned cottage which has been greedily reclaimed by nature.
I enjoy this last bit of “easy exploration” before the walk gets challenging. Our route notes include an easier alternative at this junction, one that follows a road around the mountain. While tempting, we want to see what’s on top of that mountain, so we continue up, following the Bluestack Way.
Hag Bogs from Hell
Before we even reach the bog I can tell this is going to be hell. The waymarkers lead straight up Cloghmeen Hill with no end in sight and no flat sections to rest cramping calf muscles.
There is no defined trail, this is classic hillwalking where you choose the best footing you can while keeping the endpoint in sight. The waymarkers follow a fence so it’s easy to navigate, until we reach the bogs.
We’ve walked soggy trails before, in mud so thick we thought we’d lose our boots, but I’ve never seen anything like these hag bogs in Donegal. The luminescent moss is our first clue to how wet the ground is beneath us. It’s misleading, looking like a solid surface until you feel cold feet and look down to realize your boots are quickly sinking and your socks are getting wet.
Then you look up to see mounds of dirt “hags” covered in dry heather, rising 4-6 ft above ground and surrounded by black gooey mud. Thus commences our first lesson in navigating hag bogs. Through trial and error we learn how to hop from hag to hag, avoiding the dangerously slick mud and the overly-saturated moss.
By the time we reach the top of the hill, we’re exhausted but feel a sense of accomplishment and child-like appreciation for having experienced a new adventure. Marveling at the beautiful views all around us and glowing with pride at having conquered the hags, we confidently begin to descend.
And this is where we make our first mistakes. We put away our route notes, trusting that we know the way, which of course results in us walking down the wrong way before realizing our error. Retracing our steps back up to the waymarkers, we are now on the correct path when I hear Eric yell an expletive behind me. I whip around to see him rolling down the hill and I’m equally filled with horror and absurd laughter. Once I know he’s ok, I let loose and I’m sure the shepherds of Donegal can hear me cackling for miles.
My comeuppance comes towards the end of the walk, when I take one bad step and sink my right boot into the mud all the way up past my sock line. My mother would be saying a rosary after hearing the words that spring forth from my mouth. Eric just grins with smug delight.
Caked in mud and sore to the bone, we arrive in Glenties, one of Ireland’s “tidiest small towns.” It’s a beautiful little town with gorgeous countryside surrounding it, which is why I feel especially sad as we walk down main street and notice most of the businesses have closed down.
Marguerite welcomes us into her B&B, ready with newspapers to dry our boots and a jug of cream for our tea and coffee. Marguerite and her husband have owned the inn for 28 years, she knows a thing or two about good hospitality.
We eat at Jim’s Cafe, which would not be my first choice but options are spotty here in Glenties since so many places closed down after the pandemic. The fish and chips are good, service is friendly and everyone walking in is local.
The next day, we enjoy a leisurely breakfast with a young man from Berlin who is here to surf. He says Ireland is the best kept secret for surfing, especially here in Donegal. We chat with a woman from Connecticut who visits Ireland frequently to visit family. There’s also a German couple who do not seem inclined to socialize and I don’t think it has anything to do with a language barrier. Their loss.
It’s a rest day for us, so we spend it reading, writing, washing clothes and drinking lots of coffee. I stay in my pajamas all day and Eric orders pizza for pickup. Just what we needed after those bogs kicked our ass.
Section 3, Glenties to Ardara
The day begins with a light rain but it looks to be an easy walk today, so no worries. We came prepared for heavy rain and there are no hags in today’s route notes.
There’s a bit of road walking at the beginning but once we arrive at the river it becomes an absolutely stunning walk.
We cross many bridges and stiles.
Following a river surrounded by thick yellow gorse.
Over boggy terrain with a boardwalk to lead us through the soggiest portions.
Just before reaching town we stop at a hut, which serves as a resting place for anglers and hikers. There’s an interesting bench, carved from stone in the shape of a water bottle.
Leaving the river, we pass through farmland as the skies begin to darken, picking up our pace.
Auntie B's Retirement
When we reach Ardara the sky unleashes a full torrent. Luckily we have just stepped into the local SPAR which has coffee and a place to sit. We wait out the worst of the rain and then walk to Auntie B’s. Owner Barbara greets us, efficiently fitting in loads of information into our brief walk through the halls to our room. We learn that she is a survivor of breast cancer, fighting through it all by herself amidst COVID lockdowns, and now she’s retiring and selling her inn. As she states, “I don’t want to die making beds.”
The next morning, Eric gets his first truly full Irish breakfast, including mushrooms and potato cake. I’m content with my rashers and fried egg and toast. Today is a rest day and it’s raining, and Auntie B’s is the perfect place for a lounge day because she has a large living room with comfortable seating.
There are a few guests here, one woman from Scotland and two men from Germany. I listen to the shared stories of struggle these past few years. COVID was difficult here, with two total shutdowns that restricted residents to remain within a small distance. Many long-term businesses closed, never to reopen. Ireland’s policy for accepting Ukrainian refugees has also had a profound impact, as residential apartments and local inns realized they can make more money housing refugees. In small communities which never had much housing to begin with, this results in reducing options for tourists and raising rent prices for locals. Good intentions with complicated consequences — an age-old story.
The rain lessens so we walk into town, stopping for lunch at the Courthouse Restaurant where I savor the most delicious seafood chowder ever! The restaurant is housed in Ardara’s Heritage Center and there is much to learn about this cultural mecca which is famous for its tweed and artisan craft products. There are scenic walks along the river and an excellent distillery, so it’s a good choice for a rest day.
We’ve completed the Bluestack Way but there’s more to see in Donegal. Stick around, we’ll be posting about Walking the Sli Cholmcille soon!
Changing Our Mindset with a Clare Island HelpX
Eric and I have known for the past year that we would be returning to Ireland, to walk the Donegal Way with Tailor-Made Tours. It wasn’t until recently that we decided to make the trip a little longer. Having spent quite a bit for our trip to Japan and knowing we have another long trip ahead of us, we needed a way to stretch the budget. So we looked on HelpX, a website that matches people willing to work with hosts who offer food and lodging in exchange for a few hours of work each day.
Which is how we found Granuaile House (pronounced Grawn-you-wale) on Clare Island and how we discovered what may be our new favorite way to travel. While I realize most people would scoff at the idea of doing manual labor on vacation, I found it incredibly rewarding and kept a journal each day so that you can get an idea as to why Eric and I loved it so much.
The Long Travel Day
Our plane is delayed so we spend 7 hours at the Boston airport, followed by an overnight flight to Dublin, then a bus to the train station where we wait for 2 hours before the next train for Westport. At the train station, we people watch and I befriend some birds.
The train ride is quiet and relaxing, a much needed respite from all the work it took to get here. Small towns break up the monotony of rolling green fields. A pharmaceutical rep taps away at his computer across from me, every now and then looking up to smile and let us know that he’s still human. A young boy with thick Harry Potter-like glasses entertains his mom with stories that only a young imagination could create. I should be exhausted and grumpy at this point on our journey, but I am just so grateful to be back in Ireland. This is only our second time in the country, but it feels like home.
Exiting the tiny train station at Westport, we stop at a supermarket for food, knowing that once we reach our B&B we will be too tired to go back out and find dinner. Our hostess greets us with that understanding look of someone well versed in welcoming weary travelers, quickly chatting about what time we want breakfast the following morning and then leaving us to our hot cuppa and a much needed shower and nap.
Exploring Westport Ireland
Over breakfast we visit with the B&B owner who is shocked and curious as to why we would be heading to Clare Island. We tell her and I can see that she still doesn’t quite understand the appeal, but she seems intrigued by the HelpX concept.
Westport is a lovely town, nestled on the edge of Clew Bay, an inlet of the Atlantic Ocean on Ireland’s west coast. It’s a designated heritage town, one of only a few planned towns in Ireland. We enjoy walking the tree-lined promenade along the banks of the Carrowbeg River and doing a bit of shopping.
Meeting the McCabe Family
We are staying with the McCabe family for the next 10 days. The oldest son Rory picks us up in Westport and drives us to Roonagh, where we catch the ferry to Clare Island. It’s beautiful countryside with seaside villages on the way to the ferry, I can see why this is a popular destination in the summer. On the ferry, a group of young children are returning to the island after having a field trip on the mainland to watch a production of Beauty and the Beast. The local school kids put on a production every year.
When we arrive on Clare Island, the ruins of Grace O’Malley’s Castle are immediately to our left and Granuaile House is to our right. The inn is perched above a small beach surrounded by soft green hills. I see a tall hill slightly off to the left and back on the mainland we can see one of Ireland’s famous mountains, Croagh Patrick.
Our hosts, Mary and Bernard, greet us as we walk through the door. Mary, lets us choose the room that we want and then proceeds to offer me a hot water bottle “to keep me warm and toasty,” unknowing that I have just started my period and this is the best gift anyone could offer. She then proceeds to tell us that she has hot soup that Bernard has made and fresh bread. I’ve died and gone to heaven.
Granuaile House has been in Bernard’s family for over a century. The house itself dates back to 1901. Bernard never intended to take over the family business but when his brother passed away it was up to him to continue the family legacy. This is an age-old story, one which is being repeated with the eldest son Rory who has recently taken over running the inn for his parents.
Mary keeps us supplied with coffee and chocolates, left over from Easter festivities. She tells us her children call her “a feeder” and that she can’t help herself. It’s what she does, she feeds people. I’m reminded of Sylvia who we stayed with in Montenegro, they have much in common.
There is so much more to say about the McCabe family and Clare Island, but in the interest of brevity I’ll just recommend you read this article in The Irish Times.
Introduction to Clare Island
Clare Island (besides having a fantastic name) is famous for being the stronghold of and final resting place of Gráinne ni Mhaille. We know her as Grace O’Malley, the fierce female pirate queen of Ireland. For nearly 40 years, Gráinne harassed merchant ships along Ireland’s western coastline, exacting tolls and instilling fear and respect. She is buried at Clare Island Abbey and her presence is still felt on the island, 4 centuries later.
This beautiful place is calling to us, and even though we are travel weary, Eric and I head out for our first walk in the afternoon and we walk again after dinner. The afternoon walk is full of sunshine, bright green grass and newborn baby lambs. The evening walk is on fire with a bright orange sunset and a predictable Irish raincloud.
Getting to work
The honeymoon is over and we are put to work, but only after a full pot of coffee and plenty of food in our belly. God bless Mary, she has a plate full of fruit, yogurt, two choices of muesli and perfectly poached eggs on toast. No heavy Irish breakfast here! Our first task is the entry portico, scraping flaking paint and wiping down the walls and baseboards. Prep work so that Mary can give it a fresh coat of paint.
We then head into the living room to give it a good deep clean. This is the old part of the inn so the walls are stone, which means part of our task is using wire brushes to remove calcium deposits from the stone. This is followed with a softer brush and then a wipe down with a towel. It’s quite a process and I now appreciate all of the old inns we’ve visited that have these stone walls.
Of course we take several breaks in between, Mary makes sure of that, enticing us with coffee and a hearty lunch. We have Bernard’s vegetable soup with grilled cheese ham and pesto sandwiches, as well as a salad and coleslaw. I take a nap that afternoon while Eric rambles.
We meet up for dinner that evening with the family. Tonight we get to visit with Alice (Niall McCabe’s partner). Alice is originally from France and is now living here on the island in a geodesic dome while Niall is touring in Canada as a musician and visiting his children. Alice runs Clare Island Oven, a cafe across the street. Eric and I love hearing her talk about her experiences here on the island as a non-islander. Daughter Sarah pops in for a visit with baby Sadie. I’m mesmerized by this little girl’s eyes, she has the biggest bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Sarah says she is cranky today because she had her shots, but she looks perfectly content to me.
At some point we talk religion, which is when we learn that they don’t have a regular priest on the island so Mary and others often lead services on Sunday. Blessed Communion arrives by ferry. Bernard and Mary tell the common story we hear throughout our travels, that young people are no longer going to church. She doesn’t seem shocked to hear that we’re in that category and she’s very open-minded as to why so many of us feel we have no place within the Church.
After our philosophical discussions, Mary scampers off so she can watch her soaps, the one guilty pleasure she seems to afford herself after a long day of feeding and serving her family. We go for an evening stroll.
Feeling useful
The next day we help Rory and Alice clean out the patio and garden area so that Mary and Bernard have a nice place to escape during the busy summer season. Rory apologizes for the weather, it is misting and the sun just doesn’t want to come out, but we love it! There is nothing better than feeling the salt spray on my face as I work. We’re moving around too much for me to get cold, and there’s always a hot cup of coffee waiting for me inside.
Other days we paint. The old buildings on Clare Island need a fresh coat of paint yearly, as wind and damp play havoc with exterior walls. We revarnish outdoor furniture and window trim. Mary and I begin to repaint her entryway, only to realize it’s not the original color she thought it was. She doesn’t seem to mind. The act of painting is soothing to her and we fall into a quiet rhythm of dip, brush, brush.
Mary shares her experience of walking the Camino a few years ago. She’s excited about walking it again, this time she will be doing the Portuguese Way. We swap tips about how to prevent blisters and I tell her about pee funnels and toe sock liners.
Feeling useful, knowing I’m doing something to bring joy to the kind people who have invited us into their home — this is what makes a HelpX so special. I don’t feel like a tourist. I feel like I’m visiting friends and we just popped in to help with a project. There’s a camaraderie in working together that you don’t get as a paid guest, the relationship is refreshingly different.
That afternoon, we walk to the lighthouse. We won’t actually get to visit the lighthouse since it is now privately owned, and it’s a long walk through a barren landscape, but I love it! We take another walk at night, shortly after visiting with some musicians who are playing at the local pub/community center. Our original intent was to visit the pub and listen, but it’s too crowded and the open night sky and empty streets are calling to us.
Time to relax
It’s Saturday. Mary and Bernard go to church in the morning and for lunch she cooks us boxty, traditional potato cake. Made from raw potato peels, she fries it in a skillet with some butter, then adds more butter and serves it with eggs and ham. Later that afternoon, I pop over to Alice’s cafe for a latte and lemon blueberry scone, which taste like her personality — warm and zesty.
Everyone is out today, the sun is shining and it’s the first chance the kids have had to swim this year. One of the McCabes has a SUP board and there are at least 6 children piled on top of it, gleefully squealing. I see two young girls exercising a horse in the ocean. There’s a lobsterman fixing his traps. This is the heart of the island, where sun and sea are all one needs for a day of simple pleasures.
Eric is cooking dinner today. Mary and Bernard went to the mainland on Thursday for Bernard’s medical appointment. They bought the ingredients Eric needs to make Moroccan lamb stew and lemon squares. He’s a wee nervous cooking in someone else’s kitchen but I know he enjoys it. Watching him with Mary in her kitchen makes my throat catch. Both recently lost their mothers to cancer and I don’t know if she realizes how much her mothering is helping Eric through his grief.
Walking up Knockmore "Hill"
At Mary’s request, Bernard drives us to a starting point to begin our walk today up Knockmore. He has been giving us a hard time about not walking from town, making it sound like we’re missing out on a right of passage, but I know better. We will walk 9 miles up and over Knockmore, which is a hill that feels a lot like a mountain, and I see no point in adding more miles to that simply for bragging rights.
It’s a glorious day, full of sunshine, cerulean skies and impressive views. We can see all of Clare Island and the surrounding islands of Achill, Inishturk, Inishbofin and others. Even the peak of Croagh Patrick is visible today.
We walk through several boggy areas and quickly learn how to spot the spongy yellow sections to avoid. My wet toes can attest to how quickly the wet moss seeps in through your boots if you stand still in one place too long.
At the top of the hill we meet up with Sean O’Grady and a woman whose name I can’t remember. There are no trails here so we ask them which way we should go down. They point in two directions, offering a vague “that way or that way.” Apparently we choose the more complicated route, heading downhill towards a signal tower. We are following tire treads through boggy pasture so it seems like a good plan, but we quickly find ourselves at an impasse. We can see the road we need to reach but there’s a steep drop and nowhere in sight looks passable. So we backtrack about half a mile where the hill levels out enough for us to descend.
We meet up with O’Grady again as we are walking the road back into town. He is now on a four-wheeler with his dog chilling out in the back. Thus commences a 30 minute conversation in which we learn about Sean O’Grady’s horses, famine fields and the entire history of Clare Island. This is one happy farmer, the pride gushes out of him as he speaks about his land and the work that doesn’t feel like work. He tells us of places he’s visited, including America, but it’s easy to discern that his happy place is here on the island.
We meet two more McCabe sons this evening. Ian pops in the kitchen for a quick introduction and then he’s gone again. Charlie joins us for dinner and we have a nice long chat with him. His fiendish looking dog Hades looks like a hell hound from mythology but she’s a total softie who plunges quickly for a belly rub. Sarah and her husband Mike join us for dinner as well, and of course baby Sadie, who Mary refuses to put down even though it means her dinner will get cold. We begin our meal seriously doubting Mary’s culinary choices, she has served chicken curry with chips and bananas, but she wins us over with this odd combination.
Our last day helping the McCabe family is a much slower day. Bernard spends the morning baking scones and bread, Mary is painting in the entryway, I re-varnish windows in the parlor and Eric continues to clear out the patio. We say goodbye to Charlie and Hades as they head to the mainland.
Rory gives us a quick tour of his house that he has been building for the past 7 years. What he has so far is beautiful, a black metal house in the style you would see in Iceland or Faroe Islands, with perfectly placed windows overlooking Clew Bay and Crough Patrick. He’s using reclaimed wood, doors and windows and trying to be as environmentally conscious in his building as possible, which is impressive considering how challenging it is to build on an island.
As he talks about his experience building the house, Rory says something that really strikes me. He says it’s not about the outcome, it’s the process itself that he enjoys, the skills that he learns while doing it. Rory is considered the philosopher of the family and this is just one of several glimpses we have during our short time in which he shows a profound sense of self and the type of discomfiting wisdom that seems to see right through you. His curiosity and ability to sift through complicated issues to identify truths make him one of the most fascinating people I’ve ever met. Like any good philosopher, Rory challenges us to question why we think and act the way we do. He is a wanderer at his core, just like Eric and I and so many other curious souls.
We take one last walk before leaving Clare Island. It’s a short loop from town to an abandoned pre-famine homestead. Ireland’s Great Famine occurred nearly 180 years ago but it is still very much present in modern memory. You can sense the loss when walking the deserted famine fields, once full of potatoes and now simply a geological formation of raised grass beds.
We depart Clare Island, riding in a small van with school kids going to the mainland. Our driver stops for cows to cross the road and he’s listening to the Co. Mayo radio station naming every person who has died and offering details of funeral arrangements. We were only on the island for 10 days but I can tell it has already changed me. With every trip, Eric and I expand our view of the world and of ourselves within this world. That knowledge alters us, so much so that when we return home we feel temporarily displaced. In a room full of family and familiar objects, I barely recognize myself.
We’re not headed home just yet, however. Follow along as we head north to the beautiful County Donegal.