Category Ireland

Walking SW Ireland #6 – Halfway

Robert Bradt 1 Comment


Between mid-May to late June 2024, I will be walking along the SW coast of Ireland, taking in the Kerry Way, the Dingle Way, the North Kerry Way, and parts of the Burren Way in Clare and the Western Way in Galway. This is the story of part of that journey.

A big thank you to everyone who has bought me a coffee over the past year. The Buy Me a Coffee service allows patrons like you to fund writers like me, to cover things like the costs of running this blog, new shoes and gear, and journeys like this. If that sounds like a worthy idea to you, then go ahead – keep buying me coffees.

Where Am I?

In Tralee, taking a break before starting the second half of my journey.

The Rose of Tralee statue

I got here by walking about 500 km over 3 weeks, starting in Killarney, and walking – 

  • more or less the whole 220+ km of the Kerry Way
  • with a detour between Waterville and Cahersiveen to take in the Cliffs of Kerry, Portmagee, and Valentia Island
  • plus a road walk between Killarney and Camp on the Dingle Peninsula to get onto the Dingle Way
  • and then the 200 km or so of the Dingle Way which finishes in Tralee
  • from which I finished my first half with a 26 km section of the North Kerry Way up to Ballyheigue

There’s much to tell about those sections, probably in some future posts.  In the meantime, here are a few stories and pics from my journey so far.

Stories and Pictures Along The Way

I’ve noticed in some of the towns I’ve been in that some of the pubs have gone all out to come up with creative Guinness art.  Here are a few of the ones I saw just wandering here in Tralee. 

*****

The beaches in Ireland are an under-appreciated attraction.  The Dingle Way in particular includes about 20 km of beach walking.  Unfortunately for me, about 15 km of those came on a day when the wind was lashing and the rain was off and on, always hard in my face.  Attempting to wear a rain poncho in those conditions was futile, so I was soaked and chilled by the end of the day.  

And yet the scenery, the pounding surf, the salt spray tang in my nostrils – it was exhilarating.  Exhausting too.

*****

It was around mid-day, after leaving Kenmare.  I was up on a hillside following a dirt lane, and turned a corner near an old farmhouse.  The scent of a turf fire wafted faintly, and instantly my mind jumped 300 km northwards – memories of sitting round the kitchen at the Doherty family farm outside Donegal town, next to a warm turf stove, trying to decipher Charles’ story through his Irish accent, drinking tea and laughing, laughing.  

*****

And speaking of accents, I was walking down a wee road, and as I was going down a man was coming up, on the same side of the road as me.  We approached, and he didn’t move, so I stepped aside as he said “Good morning, and how do you do?” in such a musical faith-and-begorrah south Kerry accent that I almost burst out laughing.

I nodded politely instead, and continued on, and only later realized that I had been on the left side of the road, and he was correctly walking on the right, hence our collision course.  His polite question was his way of inquiring as to whether I was the addled foreigner that I appeared to be, and a reminder to me that in Ireland one walks on the right side of the road to face oncoming traffic.

*****

Trail food for me has been a combination of ready made things picked up in shops, mostly sandwiches, as well as things I can heat up with minimal cooking.  Instant rice mixed with tinned fish is a staple.  It isn’t the most flavoursome meal but it fills you up and is relatively healthy.  

But when in a town, I’ll eat at local cafes and pubs.  Favourite meals so far have included the fish and chips at the South Pole Inn in Anascaul, the pizza at Tango Street Food in Killarney, and the grilled local fish that I had at Pisces Restaurant in Castlegregory.

And of course, it’s Ireland, I wouldn’t be exploring if I didn’t sample the pubs along the way.  I do like a pint of Guinness, so that’s been my beverage of choice when in a pub.  

Probably my favourite pub and pint was at O’Connor’s Bar in Cloghane – it had been a rainy blustery day, and was still a rainy evening, cold to boot, and I was tired and cranky.  

I walked into a properly old-fashioned place, cobwebby wooden beams overhead and dusty flagstones on the floor, with a bar propped up by regulars and the requisite loud American, a turf fire smoldering away.  

That pint was delicious. I spent 2 hours eavesdropping on the conversations going on all around me

“that bloke is creepy, look at him leering”

“who’s that?” – referring to a movie playing on a telly in the corner – “Sean Connery”; “who’s Sean Connery?”

“What if we buy a round for everyone in the bar and put it on the musicians tab”

and listening to a young guy playing the piano and singing songs like Raglan Road.  There was the Celtic magic I’d been searching for.  Sláinte.

*****

And it wouldn’t be Ireland without tea.  One of the toughest parts of the Kerry Way for me was the section between Glencar and the Black Valley.  This had two steep climbs in it, and by the time I had huffed and puffed up the second one, I was gasping and hungry.  

So I paused at the top, got out my cooking gear, and made myself a cup of tea – cure’s everything, as Ann’s gran used to say.

*****

In walking the Kerry Way , and then the Dingle Way, I covered two of the three most popular walking trails in Ireland (the other being the Wicklow Way).  Even though it’s still early in the tourist season, there were many other walkers with whom I crossed paths.  

They come from all over, though I would say that the majority of hikers that I’ve met so far have been from Germany, with Americans a close second.  Other accents and languages I’ve overheard include French, Spanish, Icelandic, Irish, English, Australian, Canadian, and Italian.

It’s an international community, and very different from my experience walking in Canada, on the Bruce Trail, the Island Walk, and my Nova Scotia journey last year.  The national waymarked trails of Ireland are a treasure, and I’m deeply jealous – I would love it if Canada had such a system of trails dedicated to walkers.  

*****

When I reached Camp, after walking in the wind and rain for several hours, I was delighted to find a snug little place called Anne’s Cafe.  I went in, grateful to be warm and dry, and ordered a pot of tea and a bite.

I was just sitting down when a young family came in and asked if they could share the table.  They had two youngsters, about 5 and 3 years old.  

We got chatting, and I explained a bit about the walk I’m on, and they talked about walking the Camino Frances a few years ago. 

We were comparing experiences, and I said that one of the things that I had told myself on my previous long walk in Nova Scotia was that I should try to find at least one moment every day when I felt at peace, a place of total calmness.

It occurred to me as I was explaining it, that I hadn’t been consciously doing that on this trip.  I had had my Zen moments, but I hadn’t had to say to myself “ok, focus, this is your Zen moment “.  I realized that I had simply felt it – absorbed the calm in the moment – without having to prompt myself.  

I guess that’s growth.  Old dogs and new tricks and all that.

Where to Next?

From Tralee, I’ve changed my route a bit.  I think I want to head as directly towards Doolin as I can so that I can spend a bit more time on the Aran Islands, and then in Connemara.

Weather and circumstances may change that, of course, but my time is pretty flexible.  As long as I make it to Galway in time to catch a train to Dublin so that I can rejoin Ann, I’m fine.  Let’s see where I go.

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Walking SW Ireland #5 – Kenmare to Cahersiveen

Robert Bradt


Between mid-May to late June 2024, I will be walking along the SW coast of Ireland, taking in the Kerry Way, the Dingle Way, the North Kerry Way, and parts of the Burren Way in Clare and the Western Way in Galway. This is the story of part of that journey.

A big thank you to everyone who has bought me a coffee over the past year. The Buy Me a Coffee service allows patrons like you to fund writers like me, to cover things like the costs of running this blog, new shoes and gear, and journeys like this. If that sounds like a worthy idea to you, then go ahead – keep buying me coffees.

Where Am I?

In Waterville, catching up on blog posts.

In Killarney, catching up on blog posts.

In Castlegregory, catching up on blog posts.

*****

My last blog post saw me reaching Kenmare after a scary night and a soggy, sloggy day.  But after a good night’s rest, with dried out clothes and gear and a tummy full of a proper Irish vegetarian breakfast (eggs, fried tomato, fried mushrooms, and baked beans, but no rasher or sausage or black pudding, if you must know), I was ready to press rewind and start off on a better foot.

I should explain that I walked the Kerry Way clockwise, starting from Killarney and heading southwest towards Kenmare and then along the south coast of the Iveragh Peninsula to Waterville, turning the corner there and continuing up and around to Cahersiveen and Glenbeigh and so on back along the coast to Killarney.

Most guidebooks for the trail, however, suggest that you walk it counterclockwise, going from Killarney northwest towards Glenbeigh on the north coast of the peninsula and continuing so on round, finishing the trail with the Kenmare to Killarney leg.

My reasoning for the contrarian approach was that the first half of the walk, as I was doing it, would have less climbing and descending than the second half.  I reckoned that would mean more time to ease my legs into it.  

And so, on the whole, it proved.  The trail from Kenmare to Cahersiveen does take you up and down many hills, but the total meters climbed are a bit less than if you went Killarney to Cahersiveen.

But – there’s always a but, isn’t there? – what I found was that the Kenmare to Cahersiveen hills are in general more rocky, muddy, or  boggy, so even though you climb a bit less you work harder to do it.  At the least, that was my impression but it also rained all day coming out of Kenmare and that didn’t help.

But, but, but … A point in favour of my way of doing it that I realized as I was finishing was that the scenery just gets better and better as you go – the stretch from Cahersiveen to Killarney is wonderful, especially if you get clear days as I did. 

If you go in the guidebook direction, then the best scenery is upfront.  I’d rather delay the payoff, as it were, but that’s just me.

The first half of the Kerry Way as I walked it, including my detour to the Kerry Cliffs

*****

The first day out of Kenmare took me through all the trail conditions I would encounter for the rest of the way – muddy, boggy, rocky, grassy, gravelly, sheep-ploppy, and cow-floppy, with all the combinations thereof.  My favourite was a stretch of grassy-muddy-boggy-sheep ploppy-cow floppy conditions that threatened to fill my boots again with mucky water.

It rained more or less all day, sometimes easing off only to come down harder later.  I took it in stride, however, happy to be walking after my near-disaster, and made good progress to reach a pretty stretch of the Way right by the shores of Kenmare Bay near Lackeen Point.

I had planned to wild camp in this area but could find nothing level enough, or far enough off the trail, to work, so I kept going and eventually came upon a good spot sheltered by trees near Blackwater Bridge. 

It rained all that night, making for a very wet stay, but it was pleasant enough listening to the birds, the plop of rain drops, and the murmur of the Black River nearby.

The next day I set off towards Sneem, relieved to find in the morning that the rain had finally cleared.  It was a gently taxing walk, some hills and muck but no real challenges, yet still long enough to bring on an appetite by the time I reached Sneem.

I had lunch at the Village Cafe, just getting in ahead of a bus load of tourists, and sat outside to dry my tent a bit while I had tea and a sandwich.  Several tourists stopped to ask where I was walking, was I camping, what was it like, etc.  But the locals ignored the tourists, including me.

From Sneem I continued on, intending to camp off the trail in a stretch of forest about halfway to Caherdaniel which, on the map at least, seemed promising.  But upon reaching it, I could see that the ground sloped far too much to offer any hope of level ground. Not for the last time, I was forced to keep on walking, down a steep, rocky, slippery hill and on towards Caherdaniel.

I had thoughts of going on to that town that evening because I knew there were a couple of B&Bs, but with about 5km to go and after about 10 hours of walking, I ran out of energy near the hamlet of Castle Cove.  I left the Way there and walked into the town where I eventually found a spot to camp for the night, in a deserted caravan park.

The next morning, I was up early to sunshine and a fresh breeze, which helped me on to Caherdaniel.  I’d hoped to find a little cafe which might at least offer tea and perhaps a full breakfast, but there were only a couple of pubs, neither yet open.  

Leaving Caherdaniel, the Kerry Way offers two options, one longer but with less climbing along the coast, or the one which I took, shorter but hillier.  

The sun was out and the views were lovely as the Way left the rough tracks across hillside sheep pastures behind, and instead followed wee back roads into Waterville.  

I reached town in good time and checked into a B&B after two nights of camping, pleased to be able to wash some socks and have a very welcome hot shower, after drinking a lovely cup of tea.  A pleasant meal sitting by the seashore rounded out the day.

While sipping my beer that night, I studied the map.  From Waterville, I had two choices.  Following the Kerry Way involved a 30+ km stretch to reach Cahersiveen that had 860+ meters of climb and descent in it, much of it along the spine of a mountain ridge.  

The views would be lovely (assuming clear weather), but there was no chance of camping along there given the exposed slopes, and since I knew I would struggle to do that stretch in a single day, it posed a very tough challenge.

Instead, I opted to follow the coast road out of Waterville towards Ballinskellig, which offered a lovely 2km beach walk,

and then took the Skelligs Ring route on back roads to reach St Finan’s Bay.  

After a rest there and a delicious bowl of seafood chowder at the Driftwood Surf Cafe, I continued along the road out of the village towards Portmagee, which took me up a steep switchbacked 250m hill climb,

but cresting the hill offered gorgeous views,

And in coming down from that I reached the Kerry Cliffs.  

This privately owned tourist attraction is well situated on rugged coastline offering stupendous views westwards from cliff tops 80 m above the churning sea. 

I camped there right up on the cliff tops, nervous about the wind, but snug enough tucked under a turf bank.

The next morning took me down into Portmagee for yet another great Irish vegetarian breakfast and tea.  The bridge to Valentia Island beckoned, and I followed back roads along the length of the island to reach the delightful Knightstown, (strangely reminiscent of Cornwall – must have been the palm trees).  I recharged there with a very good flat white made by an Irish guy who remarked that the Aussies had nothing to teach him about the art of making coffee.

The ferry ride from Knightstown back to the mainland is short, less than a km, reminiscent in this case of the Lehave River ferry back home in Nova Scotia. 

When I stepped off the ferry I had only a short 4 km walk to reach Cahersiveen, arriving early in the afternoon as the sun was coming out.  

The Mannix Point campground there was fantastic, the best I’ve stayed in, and I happily lounged about doing some laundry, having a shower, reading, and just relaxing. 

The weather was glorious that evening, warm and sunny, and forecast to remain so for a couple days.  If I hadn’t wanted to see more of the Kerry Way I would have stayed there for a bit.  

But the trail tugged at me, as it always does.

Stories Along The Way

Walking out of Kenmare, it was dry(ish) but there was rain in the air.  I hadn’t gotten more than about a km up the hill when the first drops confirmed my intuition.  

I pulled out my rain poncho, which I hadn’t worn the day during my soaked walk into Kenmare, since I was already wet to the skin by the time I had a chance to put it on.  

It took a minute to figure out how to get it on over me and over my backpack – the trick, I realized, was to stand facing the wind and let the breeze carry it up and over my shoulders and then quickly spin around as I pulled it down so the wind held it against my back.

I had it settled after a bit of wrestling, and continued up the hill.  I wore it the rest of the day, congratulating myself on my choice of rain gear since it was much lighter in weight than my previous rain jacket but at the same time allowed more ventilation, especially when worn with shorts.

As I walked I thought that the clever hiker would have a spare boot lace (I did!) and a carabiner or two (I did again!!) and could use those to fashion a simple belt to hold the bottom of the poncho down against any strong gusts.

And then I thought the really, really clever hiker would have had the idea before he put the poncho on and had the belt ready in a convenient pocket.  Oh well.

*****

I must confess that I did try to put the poncho on during that wild Monday morning.  But the best method I can see for donning a rain poncho in a gale is:

  1. Get out poncho
  2. Spend 5 minutes attempting to don it while the wind swirls it in all directions threatening to alternately smother you and blind you (cursing is optional during this step)
  3. Give up and resign yourself to getting wet

*****

When I reached Cahersiveen, I was pleased to see that there were laundry facilities at the campground I was in.  I wanted to wash everything that I could, including my sleep clothes, which meant that the only remaining clothes that I had to wear were a T-shirt and a pair of underwear.

So I improvised.  I tossed everything into the machine, and waited for it to finish wearing my windbreaker as a kilt.

Very fashionable amongst the hiking set, I’m told.

*****

Walking from Caherdaniel to Waterville, I was passing along a nice stretch of the trail, facing a charming blue sea set off by the green of the hills sloping down towards it.

This was one of those spots where a bench had been placed, and I took advantage to sit for a few minutes and have a sip of water.

I was minding my own business when I noticed another hiker coming towards me.  She also noticed the bench and made for it.  I waited, not wanting to seem rude, as if I was getting up to avoid her.

She sat down and we struck up a conversation.  She was German, and perhaps (though a gentleman never speculates about a lady’s age) of about my vintage.  We remarked on the trail and the scenery and the weather, and then she said, looking at the shorts I was wearing, “that is a good idea, it is getting warm now”.

And she reached down to unzip the legs off her trousers – they converted into shorts you see – and pulled off one leg and then the other to reveal, ahem, rather shapely legs. 

I looked away, not to seem as if I was leering, and coughed and excused myself and headed on my way.

And later I thought, that was like that scene in The Graduate.  She was Mrs Robinson, so I must be Benjamin.  And she did kind of look like Anne Bancroft.  Hey, maybe I’ve still got it. It’s that #hikerDude mystique.  Gotta be …

I walked off humming the Simon and Garfunkel hit song from that movie. 

“And here’s to you, Mrs Robinson, Jesus loves you more than you can know” ….

*****

When I reached Castle Cove, I passed by a pub and restaurant that had a big Accommodations sign out front.  I went in and was through a seemingly deserted interior, calling out Hello.  Eventually a woman came out of the back, and replied to my inquiry that they weren’t doing accommodation just then.

I asked if I could set up my tent in their garden, since there appeared to be about a half acre of grass there.  “No”, she said.  Just that.  Hmm, ok.  “Do you know of anywhere nearby where I can camp?”.  “Right down the road, just go down to the main road, turn right and cross the bridge, and it’s the first entrance, there’s a campground there.”

So I thanked her and went next door, into was not a campground so much as a caravan park, and a deserted one at that.  I walked round the place, not a soul in sight, no cars, nothing to indicate that any of the units were occupied.  And there was no office either, just a big sign that said “You are under CCTV Surveillance “.

I returned to the pub and knocked, and reported my findings.  Can I camp there?  It’s not a campground, there’s no one round to ask, and the sign says No Trespassing.  And there’s no water outlets anywhere.

“Yes”, she said, “it’s fine.  Just set up on any patch of grass and you’ll be ok”.  Hmm, alright, “can you please fill my water container then”.  She grudgingly did so, and turned away, obviously dismissing me.

I walked back, and wandered around some more, finally settling on a relatively secluded spot that wasn’t too obvious from the road.  As I started to set up my tent I realized I had forgotten my trekking poles back at the pub.  Trudge over, trudge back.  Finally my tent is set up.

I groan as I take off my boots and crawl in, arrange my gear, break out my cooking gear, and start to boil water for my meal.  I just get dinner ready when …

Wait for it …

A large tractor pulls into the park and starts cutting the grass. 

It’s roaring away and slowly getting closer to where I am set up.  The driver eventually sees me.  I think about going out to tell him that the lady next door said I could camp here.  To hell with it, I think.  I’m tired, I’m damned if I’m moving my tent at this point, and I just want him to finish so I can go to bed.

He eventually does all the grass that he can except for my patch, coming within about 10m of me.  He gives me one last look, and heads off.  I can see him on his phone as he drives away.

I go to bed expecting the Garda to show up in the dark to haul me off for trespassing.  But there’s no further disturbance, except for the squawks of angry crows.  Céad míle fáilte my arse.

Where to Next?

From Cahersiveen, I walked the second half (my version that is) of the Kerry Way to return to Killarney.  More on that later.

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Walking SW Ireland #4 – Killarney to Kenmare

Robert Bradt 1 Comment


Between mid-May to late June 2024, I will be walking along the SW coast of Ireland, taking in the Kerry Way, the Dingle Way, the North Kerry Way, and parts of the Burren Way in Clare and the Western Way in Galway. This is the story of part of that journey.

A big thank you to everyone who has bought me a coffee over the past year. The Buy Me a Coffee service allows patrons like you to fund writers like me, to cover things like the costs of running this blog, new shoes and gear, and journeys like this. If that sounds like a worthy idea to you, then go ahead – keep buying me coffees.

*****

Where Am I?

In Killarney, at a B&B, catching up on blog writing.  

I arrived in Kenmare by taking the train from Dublin to Killarney, getting in at about 1:30.  The train ride was fine, not a ton of scenery, but quiet so I was able to read for a bit.  

As soon as I stepped off the train, my feet were itching to go.  But I had to visit a grocery store first for dinner that night, and some food for the next day.  The local Tesco’s had a good selection of simple healthy hiker foods so I stocked up.  But in a foretaste of things to come, I realized later that I had lost one of the rubber tips for my hiking poles.

After finally setting off, I was quickly at and then past the official start of the Kerry Way near the Killarney Tourist Office, opposite Killarney House. 

I sailed along the path beside the busy roadway, with Sunday tourists out in force on a nice day.

It’s about a 4 km walk to reach the entrance to Killarney National Park, through which the trail traverses. Soon I was staring at stunning views over Mucross Lake towards the hills.

After a quick but much-needed pit stop at one of the Park’s conveniences (a thousand flowers of blessing upon the inventor of the toilet), I joined a steady stream of day hikers climbing the path to the Torc Waterfall.  It’s beautiful, I assume, though I couldn’t see it as it was meant to be, unadorned with selfie grabbers.

The climb up past the waterfall is steep, about 100m in total, but after that I was out past the last of the day trippers and onto the trail proper.

I walked at a good pace on fresh legs and feet, anxious to find a camping spot.  I’d spent more time than I had planned to get to this point.  It was past 5 pm as I approached the edge of the forested area.  My original thought had been to camp just inside these woods, near the Owengarrif River, which on satellite pics looked doable.  

In practice however the ground was too uneven, a foretaste of what I was to encounter along much of the trail – the right combination of sheltered, level, dry, and off the trail was elusive much of the way, as I was to find.

But I did settle on a spot after searching a bit, an old sheep pasture with a lovely view, and set up camp there for the night.

After an eventful night (more on that later), I woke to rain and slogged the next day, soaked and grumpy, into Kenmare.

A hot Irish breakfast and strong pot of tea did wonders, reviving me enough to find a nice B&B that was right beside the trail just outside of town, and I checked in there to change out of and dry my sopping clothes.   The first 2 nights had given me a wet intro to my journey.

Stories Along The Way

As I have learned on my travels in the past, trail angels come in all forms.  The first on this journey was Fionnulla, at the Kenmare B&B,  who let me put my wet boots, pack, and socks in the boiler room to dry out, and took my wet sweat pants and threw them in the dryer.  Between that, and judicious use of the hair dryer, I had all my stuff dried off ready for the next day.

*****

Right near the start of my journey, about 2 km out of Killarney, I met Chris, a Kerry Way thru hiker who was just finishing.  As we sized up each other, I realized he and I were pretty similar – same build, same age, same #HikerDude fashion sense, even similar Osprey packs.  

We chatted for a bit, and he remarked about how wonderful the trail is. “You’ll love it”, he said. I walked away feeling pretty good about myself – if he was about my age and had just solo walked it, then it should be no problem.  Right?

*****

As I said, I had an eventful first night, on my seemingly lovely bit of sheep pasture.  

By the time I had set up my tent, made dinner, and climbed into bed, it was about 8 pm.  The skies were clear and there was no wind to speak of.  Still, I had made sure to place two bracing guy lines on the tent plus added two extra side pegs.  I drifted off to sleep thinking, “I should be ok”.

I woke up at about 10:30 to the sound of rain against the tent, driven by moderate winds.  I fell back asleep, only to be awakened at about 3:30 am by the side of the tent slapping my face.  The wind had picked up tremendously, and the whole thing was shaking.  I reached out and checked the corners from the inside – all seemed secure so far.

After that, I just lay awake, weighing up my options.  The tent was taking a pounding but it was holding, in part because my weight lying on the tent floor was helping to provide stability.  It was still dark at 4, and at 4:30, and finally a predawn twilight crept in around 5.  I could see that things were holding, but the wind wasn’t just refusing to ease, it was getting fiercer, as was the lashing rain.  

I was tempted to make a run for the trail, about 200 meters up the sloped pasture, but packing up my gear and taking down the tent in that gale was foolish.  Better to wait it out.

Suddenly, a corner peg let go, followed by one on the side holding the vestibule. I snatched a couple of spare pegs from my pack and stretched out on the wet ground to grab the snapping fabric, jabbing the corner peg in as best I could, and wrestling with a flapping peg strap to get the other one in.  But that held for just a minute or two and then it was loose again and crackling wildly, like a blown out sail in a gale.

It was clear that I couldn’t hold the tent down with my hands from the inside, the wind kept tearing it from my grip. I risked losing it altogether if another peg went, so I decided to make a run for it. I turned from madly stuffing my gear into the pack to see that one of my trekking poles, which is used to support the tent, had come loose from the grommet which should have held it and had punctured the tent fabric. 

Yanking out the trekking pole while trying not to tear things further, rolling on the wet ground out of the tent dragging my pack, and simultaneously trying to hold onto the tent fabric, was a slow motion nightmare. Somehow I gathered up the sopping fabric and stuffed it into the pack, trying to count the pegs as I pulled them out.  

I was missing 3 but thought myself lucky it wasn’t worse. As it was I had to stumble across the uneven ground in untied boots to catch my pack cover before the gale whipped it off into the gloom.

Then came a slipping, sliding, soaking climb back up to the trail, more panic-driven than I want to admit.  I couldn’t find the spot in the stone wall around the pasture that led out the way I’d come down, so I searched frantically for a path through thickets of prickly gorse, sloshing through boggy puddles which filled my boots to the brim with muddy water.

At one point I took a wrong step into a hole and lost my balance, falling face first into the muck.  “Slow down and think!”  I struggled back to my feet, checked make sure both boots were still on, and kept moving upwards, panting through grasping gorse and snagging brambles, at last nearly falling to the ground when I finally reached the trail.

Taking a deep breath – “slow down dummy!” – helped me to regroup. I realized I was still wearing my sleep pants, just cheap cotton sweats, and they were soaked. My light windbreaker was saturated and my clothes underneath were wet to the skin.  I couldn’t change clothes there, but I could and did empty a pool of water from each boot before lacing them up properly.

And since there was no way I was crawling back to Killarney with my tail between my legs, I turned towards Kenmare, slipping and sloshing with each step.  Finally, about a km or two later, I found a semi-sheltered spot where I could take a breather, eat something, change out of my wet sweats into my hiking pants, take off my socks and wring them out, and generally get a grip on myself.

After that, I relaxed a bit.  I wasn’t in any immediate danger, I was relatively warm even though sopping, and Kenmare was only about 15 km away.  I trudged through gradually diminishing rain and winds, until just a misty mizzle remained to ensure I stayed wet all the way into town.

A hard lesson that could have been worse.  But I made it through.  What would the Trail bring next to test me.

Where to Next?

From Kenmare, I continued to follow the Kerry Way – Blackwater Bridge, Sneem, Waterville, and Cahersiveen were up next.

Walking SW Ireland #3 – Getting There

Robert Bradt


Between mid-May to late June 2024, I will be walking along the SW coast of Ireland, taking in the Kerry Way, the Dingle Way, the North Kerry Way, and parts of the Burren Way in Clare and the Western Way in Galway. This is the story of part of that journey.

A big thank you to everyone who has bought me a coffee over the past year. The Buy Me a Coffee service allows patrons like you to fund writers like me, to cover things like the costs of running this blog, new shoes and gear, and journeys like this. If that sounds like a worthy idea to you, then go ahead – keep buying me coffees.

*****

Where Am I?

On the train from Dublin to Killarney.

I left this morning from Ann’s cousin Mairead’s house in Castleknock outside Dublin, and walked through Phoenix Park to the station, a lovely start to the journey with fine spring weather, birdsong, and green grass and lilac scents.

To get to Mairead’s, I left home a week ago, with Ann, and travelled to Ontario to visit first my family in Leamington, and then Ann’s family in Peterborough.  It was great to catch up and see everyone and to celebrate my father-in-law Stan’s 90th birthday, and yet I was mentally counting down the days and then the hours till departure.

My flight out of Toronto Dublin was ok, the usual airport stuff, and the usual lack of sleep on the plane.  Mairead collected me at the airport, and after a quick cup of tea and a chat, a nap and a shower revived me in time for an early dinner with her and her daughters.  After a pint of the black at the local pub, and a whiskey nightcap, it was an early bedtime and a much needed sleep.

The next day, I walked into Dublin along the Royal Canal, beautiful and peaceful under clear blue-skied sunshine

and meandered in town, picking up a fuel canister for my stove and a few trail snacks.  I ate lunch like a tourist off Grafton Street, and savoured a beer.  I strolled past St Stephen’s Green, and St Patrick’s Cathedral, and the Guinness Storehouse, and through Phoenix Park, getting back to Castleknock in time for a cup of tea and a shower before dinner.

After some adventures at the Hill of Tara, and a last glass of wine, it was after midnight before getting to sleep.  But I woke early, before my alarm, and was coffeed up and ready to go before 8.  

And with a quick hug and a thank you, I was off.

Finally.

Stories Along The Way

When we reached Ontario, Ann and I decided to spend the night on our own in Stratford, so we’d have a bit of quiet to ourselves to celebrate my birthday.  We had a lovely dinner at a place called Lovage, and the next morning as we were packing up I noticed that I had somehow chipped a tooth, not realizing it at the time.

For the next couple of days, I worried at it, running my tongue over the bicuspid in question, trying to decide if it was bad enough to have fixed before I left.  I didn’t have any pain from the tooth, but it nagged at me, and finally when we were in Peterborough 2 days before my departure I decided I should get it fixed.

Since my regular dentist was in Nova Scotia, I called around and found a walk-in dental clinic in Toronto and arranged to go in the afternoon before my flight.  

When I got into the chair and explained to the dentist about the tooth, he took a look, took another look, and sat back to ask – “where? I can’t see a chip”.

It was a small one, granted, but it felt obvious to me having had multiple such chips of my too-brittle teeth over the years.  He finally picked at it and agreed that if it was bugging me, it was enough of a problem to fix – “We aim to please”, he exclaimed – and without the need for much more than a bit of epoxy filling and some polishing, I was in and out in 15 minutes.

*****

Walking through Phoenix Park on the way to the train station, I glanced over towards the south.  The Wicklow Mountains loomed, close to the edge of the city, mist shrouded and mysterious.  I had a sudden urge to turn right and walk towards them, throwing out my careful plan, to wander the hills and go where I pleased.

My feet were in auto mode, stride locked in and step by step the urge faded.  

But what if ….

*****

The night I arrived in Dublin coincided with an impressive display of the northern lights, which Mairead’s daughter caught on camera and shared with us.  Since in Dublin there was too much light pollution to see, the next night, my final one in Dublin, we decided to go out of town to the Hill of Tara, to get a better view of what was to have been another great display.

We reached the hill around 2115, at sunset, to find a jammed car park with the overflow crammed along the side of the narrow road.  We found a spot and walked up the hill, exploring a bit whilst waiting for the twilight to fade.

Unfortunately, clouds were moving in, and while the slim crescent moon was a charming sight, we couldn’t see the aurora through the mist.  We gave up after an hour and headed back to the car.

By now, the parked cars were lined along the road for several hundred meters, making it a one-lane passage.  But as we started down the hill, we came to a car coming up, and behind it 3 more.  With nowhere to go but back, Mairead started to slowly inch a hundred meters in the dark, in reverse, and in little spurts and wobbles as she dodged pedestrians, overhanging shrubs, and jutting cars.

We got lucky when a parked car left, putting another downhill soul in front of us and by now several behind us, allowing an uphill soul to park, and giving us the numerical advantage to start down again, now forcing the cars in front of us to reverse themselves.

They slowly inched back as we crept forward, and after 20 stressful minutes, and with a surprising lack of curses from Mairead (I would have been swearing down the gods upon all heads), we finally reached the road back to Dublin.

This is why I walk – no traffic jams for me.

*****

Preparing for this journey has been a long process, probably too long as I endlessly stared at maps and imagined routes and stopping points.  Part of my prep has been spent watching YouTube videos made by a number of Irish walkers, in particular Ellie and Carl who have a website and YouTube channel called Tough Soles, and Derek Cullen who has his own adventure website and channel.  

These were great sources, showing me the conditions on the trail and pointing out things to see along the way.  And I especially liked Derek’s mantra, which he repeats every day:  “Feet good, body good, head good, heart good – All good”.

Thank you for your inspiration.

Where to Next?

My train journey ends in Killarney, and about a kilometer from the station is the official start point of the Kerry Way.  

I’ll follow that route for the next 10 days, clockwise round the circular route, from Killarney to Kenmare, to Sneem, to Waterville, to Cahersiveen, to Glenbeigh, to Glencoe, to Blackwater, and finally back into Kerry.

I’ll be camping along the way, with a planned first night somewhere off the trail near Killarney National Park, perhaps 8-10 km outside of Killarney. Hope it’s relatively dry.

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Walking SW Ireland #2 – Gear

Robert Bradt


Between mid-May to late June 2024, I will be walking along the SW coast of Ireland, taking in the Kerry Way, the Dingle Way, the North Kerry Way, and parts of the Burren Way in Clare and the Western Way in Galway. This is the story of part of that journey.

A big thank you to everyone who has bought me a coffee over the past year. The Buy Me a Coffee service allows patrons like you to fund writers like me, to cover things like the costs of running this blog, new shoes and gear, and journeys like this. If that sounds like a worthy idea to you, then go ahead – keep buying me coffees.

*****

So having decided to walk about in Ireland, I went through the gear I took last year in walking about Nova Scotia, and told myself that I needed to pare down the weight.  I schlepped the best part of 40 lbs with food, water, stove fuel, plus all the other stuff – tent, sleep system, cooking gear, spare clothes, etc.

It was right at the limit of what I could carry, and knowing that, I made some choices to either leave stuff out for this trip, or replace it with some lighter kit.

So here’s the list of what I am planning to carry.  I’m down from about 14 kg (32 lbs) base weight to more like 9 kg (20 lbs), and with Ireland being well supplied with corner shops for food and wee streams for water, I can carry less weight there too.  I am hoping that most days I’ll be at about 11 kg (25 lbs), with about 12.5 kg (29 lb) max if I have 2-3 days of food and full water.

*****

Gear

I bought all the gear myself – I didn’t receive anything from any supplier as a promo or in exchange for a review.  I bought most of my stuff from the following:

Pack

  • Osprey Exos Pro 58L pack, with rain cover
  • All my gear fits either inside the pack or in the outside stuff pockets 

Trekking poles

  • Black Diamond Trail collapsible poles – they are almost always in my hands, but I can tuck them into one of the outside pack pockets if needed

Shelter system

  • Durston X-Mid 1P tent, with the optional groundsheet
    • Durston tent stuff sack
    • 6 MSR Mini Groundhog stakes plus 2 Durston shepherd hook stakes
    • 8 spare mini titanium stakes plus a set of 4 MSR spare guylines – I’m anticipating windy conditions 
  • A piece of plastic salvaged from a shipping bag as a small  vestibule groundsheet to keep my pack off the wet grass
(The tent on the left is the Durston)

I agonized over this choice, by the way.  It will rain, often, this being Ireland, and I thought the bigger 2-person MEC tent that I have would be nice if I’m hunkered down for hours out of the wet.  

But it weighs about 800g more than the Durston, so in the end I decided to go with the lighter tent.  Besides, I like the coziness of the Durston having used it last year, and it has the advantage of allowing a quick fly-first pitch so that the inner stays dry if you are setting up in the rain.

Sleep system

  • Therm-a-Rest Vesper 0C rated down quilt
  • Therm-a-Rest Prolite Short self-inflating sleeping pad
  • Appalachian Gear Company Alpaca sleeping bag liner
  • MEC inflatable pillow with a merino wool buff as a pillow case
  • a pair of light sweatpants used as pajamas
  • a long sleeve T shirt used as pajamas
  • a 10L dry bag to hold all the sleep gear

Clothes

  • What I will wear every day
    • a pair of walking shorts, merino wool socks, athletic underwear, and athletic wick away T-shirt, and an athletic wick away long sleeve shirt
    • A MEC baseball style sun hat
    • a pair of Merrell Rogue high top hiking shoes
  • In the pack is a 10L dry bag with spare clothes
    • 1 pair of walking pants (convertible to shorts)
    • 1 wick away synthetic material athletic T-shirt
    • 1 pair of merino wool hiking socks
    • 1 pair of wick away synthetic material athletic underwear
  • Also in the pack are my outer layers
    • 1 lightweight fleecy
    • 1 lightweight Patagonia Houdini water resistant windbreaker 
    • 1 Sea to Summit rain poncho (converts to a tarp if needed)
    • 1 MEC light down puffy jacket
    • 1 pair of runners lightweight gloves
  • A pair of camp flip flops
  • A dirty clothes bag – just a reusable cloth grocery store bag that I could wash

Cook System

  • A MSR Pocket Rocket stove w 110g fuel canister and MSR stove supports
  • A Vargo titanium mug
  • An MSR titanium 700 ml pot
  • A Vargo long-handled titanium spoon
  • A plastic spork
  • A fire steel sparker 
  • A back-up small disposable lighter in a Ziplock bag
  • A small scrubber, a washcloth, and some Wilderness Wash soap, in a Ziplock bag
  • A leather pot grabber made from scraps I got from our local cobbler
  • Salt and pepper in little packets inside a small watertight container

Health and Safety

  • A toiletries kit in a 3L dry bag with a quick dry camp towel, a small washcloth, deodorant, nail clippers, toothbrush, regular toothpaste, and a salt/baking soda tooth cleaning mix for when I am in a wilderness spot
  • A first aid kit with tick tweezers, blister & regular bandages, KT tape, petroleum jelly, alcohol swabs, scissors, allergy tablets, and ibuprofen tablets
  • A headlamp
  • A bug net to wear over my hat
  • A whistle (built-in to the pack’s sternum strap)
  • A VersaFlow water filtration kit + a CNOC 2L Vecto collapsible water bag
  • A supply of water purification tablets (if in doubt about the water source, I like to filter plus use the tabs, to be safe)
  • A Vargo titanium shovel for digging cat holes, aka the poop shovel
  • A small supply of toilet paper in a zip lock bag
  • A package of compostable disposable wipes
  • A packet of Sea to Summit travel wash soap leaves
  • A bottle of Sea to Summit Wilderness Wash concentrated all-purpose soap
  • A mini tube of sunblock
  • A small container of hand sanitizer 

Electronics

  • Electronics in a small dry bag
    • iPad mini
    • A couple of multi-connector cables
    • A Nitecore 10,000 milliamp power pack
    • A dual port charging brick
    • A Canada to Ireland plug adapter 
    • Apple earbuds
    • A headlamp

Tools and Repair Kit

  • A fix-it kit with some safety pins, a couple of small ring clamps, a short roll of duct tape, a mini sewing kit, and some inflatable-gear patches
  • A spare bootlace that doubles as a clothes line
  • A food hang kit – 10m of paracord with a carabiner attached to a loop on one end, plus a small drawstring sack used as a rock bag
  • A few small carabiners
  • 4 plastic clothes pegs
  • 2 mini bungee cords
  • My sunglasses in a zip lock bag
  • My Swiss Army knife
  • A few disposable eyeglass wipes 
  • A reflective arm band
  • A Crunch-It fuel canister recycling tool

Consumables

  • A 20L KINStudio Kevlar critterproof food bag that holds my cooking gear plus
    • Trail snacks – some combo of granola bars, raw pumpkin and/or sunflower seeds, dried fruit, turkey jerky, banana chips, sesame bars, etc.
    • 1 day’s worth of food (usually, but I will have a couple of short stretches where I will need 2-3 days worth)  – tortillas or pita breads, cheese, noodles, ramen, canned fish, oatmeal, etc.
    • A ziplock bag with instant coffee packets and tea bags
  • A fuel canister for the stove
  • 1L of water, at start of day
  • If I am far from a water source for the night, I will use my 2L CNOC bottle for extra

What I’m Not Taking

The stuff I’ve omitted to save weight is perhaps as interesting as what I am taking.  

  • Swapping a Gregory Baltoro 65L pack for the Osprey Exos Pro saves about 1.5 kg
  • Carrying 1 change of clothes instead of 2 saves about 1 kg
  • Carrying less water and food saves about 1 to 1.5 kg
  • Swapping my old MEC rain jacket and rain pants for a poncho and a light windbreaker saved about 500g, more than enough to offset the extra weight of the down puffy jacket
  • Leaving behind the Helinox Chair Zero camp chair saved almost 500g
  • Paring down my first aid kit, toiletries, fix-it kit, and misc gear saved more than 500g
  • Swapping my Vargo alcohol stove for the iso-butane stove saved about 250g on the fuel and associated fuel bottle
  • Buying some other lighter gear like a new fleece jumper, new dry bags, new power bank and charger, etc saved another 250g or so

It’s amazing how little things add up.  Just reducing the number of stuff sacks and zip lock bags was more than 100g in weight savings.  If you really want to save pack weight, put each individual item on a kitchen scale and measure it to the gram, and soon you too will be cutting the ends off your toothbrush.

Walking Ireland’s SW Coast – Post #1

Robert Bradt


Between mid-May to late June 2024, I will be walking along the SW coast of Ireland, taking in the Kerry Way, the Dingle Way, the North Kerry Way, and parts of the Burren Way in Clare and the Western Way in Galway. This is the story of part of that journey.

A big thank you to everyone who has bought me a coffee over the past year. The Buy Me a Coffee service allows patrons like you to fund writers like me, to cover things like the costs of running this blog, new shoes and gear, and journeys like this. If that sounds like a worthy idea to you, then go ahead – keep buying me coffees.

So as of 2024, surprise, surprise, I’m still not getting any younger.  My bucket list of walks that I’d love to do keeps growing, but the likelihood of completing even a fraction of these keeps shrinking.

Which means it’s time to get out and get going.  And since Ann has family in Ireland, and since with Covid and moving to Nova Scotia and whatnot we’ve not visited in several years, it is time to get back over.  

And that coincides with some of the walks on my bucket list – Ireland is crisscrossed with official walking trails and wee country lanes that I have been itching to explore.  So this year is the year to get to it.

Starting in mid-May, I will be travelling to Dublin and then taking the train to Killarney in County Kerry, in the SW of Ireland.  From there I’ll follow the coast north for about 1000 km through Kerry, Clare, and Galway, on waymarked trails and wee country lanes:

  • Starting in Killarney, walk the Kerry Way clockwise round the Iveragh Peninsula and back to Killarney, with maybe a detour to visit Skellig Michael, weather and legs and schedule depending
  • After a rest day in Killarney, head north along wee roads up to Camp on the Dingle Peninsula to join the Dingle Way
  • Follow that round anti-clockwise and near Dunquin, make a detour to visit Great Blasket Island and the westernmost tip of Ireland at Dunmore Head
  • Then rejoin the Dingle Way and continue back to Camp, and then complete the trail by walking to Tralee (and incidentally thus complete the Kerry Camino which takes you from Dingle Town to Tralee)
  • After another rest day in Tralee, follow the North Kerry Way up the coast to Ballyheigue, and then continue on back roads north, across the River Shannon at Tarbert, and on up to Lahinch
  • Where I’ll pick up the Burran Way, and follow it past the fabled Cliffs of Moher, to Doolin
  • To catch the ferry to Inishmaan and Inishmore and take a rest day exploring these Aran Islands
  • And then take a different ferry to Rossaveal in Connemara, County Galway
  • And set off along coastal roads west to Clifden, then north to catch the ferry to Inishbofin Island
  • And then back to the mainland and roads northeast, past Letterfrack to visit Kylemore Abbey and on eastwards to pick up the Western Way
  • Which I will follow east and south to its terminus in Oughterard, 
  • And then finish my journey following forest roads through the hills to complete my tour of Connemara in Galway City
  • And, finally, end my solo adventures by taking the train back to Dublin to meet up with Ann

So that’s the plan.  If all goes well, I’ll finish in late June 2024.  Blog posts to follow, of course.

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Change of Plans

Robert Bradt

Aerial view of St Stephen’s Green
By Dronepicr (edited by King of Hearts) Edit corrects CA and sharpens image – File:Dublin Stephen’s Green-44.jpg, CC BY 3.0, Link

This week was supposed to have seen me complete my TONotL hike, and as I wrote last week, those plans had to change when we made an unscheduled trip to Ireland for a funeral. It’s meant that this past week has been a mixed bag of walks.

Sunday – walking the strand at Portnoo in Donegal.

One of the secrets of Ireland is that while it’s a northerly climate, and it’s associated with soft rains and green pastures, there are in fact quite a few fabulous beaches. Portnoo is one of them – several km of sand and shallow waters that are perfect for sunning yourself or swimming, if you don’t mind the chill.

Monday – city walking in Dublin, wandering favourite neighbourhoods near St. Stephens Green and Marion Square, window shopping and sightseeing.

The trip had been a whirlwind, and we’d given ourselves Monday afternoon and evening in Dublin to decompress after the emotional visit to Donegal. The sun was out and it was a lovely day, perfect to find a little out of the way pub with some outdoor tables and a pint of Guinness. Dinner was equally lovely, enjoying seafood and crisp French wine at Sole. The stroll through St. Stephens Green after dinner capped off our trip, enjoying the flowers in bloom and watching the other strolling couples.

Tuesday – airports and taxis and a quick stroll around the shops back home to pick up dinner. Welcome back to Toronto summer heat.

Wednesday – since I was off work for the week anyway and had planned to spend it walking, it was off for a tour of Lawrence Park and Bridle Path neighbourhoods and on through Burkes Brook and Sunnybrook Parks.

15km of wandering up and down hills, through cool shaded forest and sun-drenched playing grounds.

Thursday – more hiking, this time the full length of the Beltline.

First west along Roselawn and Castlefield all the way to Caledonia to pick up the start of the Beltline Trail by the Canada Goose factory, and then back east on the Trail all the way through Mount Pleasant Cemetery, down the Moore Ravine into the Brickworks, and then back north up through David Balfour Park and into the Cemetery again to complete the loop. 20 km on an even hotter day.

Friday – yet more hiking, this time down to the lake through inner city neighbourhoods – Whychwood, Christie Pits, Palmerston, Little Italy, Parkdale – and along the Trillium Trail through Ontario Place, then back home through stifling city streets heavy with humid heat.

I passed through several of parks that make Toronto a fantastic place to live – Christie Pits, Trinity-Bellwoods, Coronation Park, and more. Without those green oases, the city would bake in the summer. While they were lovely to walk through, 25km on a hot muggy day wiped me out.

Saturday – after that long day Friday, it was time to take it easy, strolling in the neighbourhood and shopping for new running shoes after wearing out my old pair. It was a day to unwind and let my legs and feet rest a bit.

Overall, I did more walking this past week than I’ve done in any previous week in at least a year, and yet I only did about half of the 160 km I had planned on my TONotL walk. If I’m honest, it would have been a tough challenge to finish that walk as planned, given 30C heat and my evident fitness level despite my training walks. Clearly I need to put in more work so that when I try this in the autumn when the weather will also be cooler, I will be ready for it.

Still, a change of plans isn’t necessarily a bad thing. When life throws up the unexpected, the best path forward is to learn from the experience.

Big Little Walks

Robert Bradt

Sometimes there are curves in the path that you can’t see round.

This past Friday I was in Ireland, in Donegal Town. I took the biggest little walk I’ve taken in a while, when as a pallbearer I helped to carry my wife’s dear Aunt Nora out of the house to the waiting hearse, then into the church for the service, and finally up the hill in the cemetery to the grave.

My plan had been that on Sunday June 30, I would start my Big Walk from Toronto to Niagara-on-the-Lake but that’s now been postponed. We won’t get home till mid-week and that doesn’t leave me enough time to do the walk I’d planned before I need to be back at work. I guess that will now wait till the autumn.

But more important than those plans was the walk I took on Friday. It was a lovely day, warm and sunny, and the town turned out as we passed walking slowly behind the hearse. I’m glad we came, and that I was able to help on that short little walk.

Over the years, and especially the past few visits, when we were leaving Donegal Nora would always part with the words “I’ll not say goodbye, only farewell”. There’s an Irish saying that’s apt – may the road rise up to meet you. Farewell Nora.

Little Walks – The Abbey, Donegal

Robert Bradt

My wife’s family are from the town of Donegal in the north-west of Ireland. Back in 1991 we took our first trip together to visit family there, and I was introduced to the town and what has become one of my favourite little walks – the Abbey.

Her aunt and uncle lived then, and still do, on Castle Street. It’s a lovely little street, with the River Eske running in front of the house with a low wall to sit on and watch the trout play in the current. On that first visit, the waft of peat smoke and coal fires on a misty evening formed a permanent memory that’s recalled each time I’m there.

The centre of the town is just behind Castle Street, and the heart of the town is The Diamond, a market space surrounded by shops.

It’s a bustling little town on a summer Saturday, with tour buses, farmers on tractors, and families out shopping. Leading out of The Diamond, there is a street running down towards the harbour, and past that on a little tip of land is the Abbey.

Today it’s a ruin, with tumbled stones and partial walls from the medieval Franciscan priory and church to explore, and mixed through the old church grounds are more recent graves because today it’s a cemetery that’s still in use. Many of the town’s old family names can be found here, with the history of lives long-lived along with the little tragedies of young lives lost. Even though it’s close to town, it’s usually quiet and if there’s a bit of sun or a bit of misty rain, it’s quite charming and deeply moving.

On our first visit, I was indulging an enthusiastic photography bug – I would leap from the car at every thatched cottage or picturesque sheep peering through a hedge. When we got to Donegal town and we’d wandered around a bit, I heard the stories about the Abbey and I knew that I had to visit to explore and photograph the ruins and headstones. I must have spent a couple of hours there on that first trip, self-absorbed and utterly content, shooting rolls and rolls of film.

Since that first visit, we’ve returned to Ireland many times and each time we go I try to carve out an hour or so for my favourite little walk – up Castle Street, past the restored Castle and through The Diamond to the harbour and on to the Abbey for a wander through the headstones to see who’s passed on since my last visit. It’s become a ritual for me, recalling the memories of that first trip when I fell in love with the country and the town.

Each time I take that that walk I end by returning to Castle Street and a cup of tea in the kitchen. The warmth of Aunt Nora and Uncle Liam, their charm and sly humour, the chat round the kitchen table with the cousins and neighbours, and the gossip and questions about what I’d seen this time – it’s a gentle domesticity and a throwback to quieter times that we don’t get here in the Big Smoke of Hogtown.

That little walk takes me back in time, and then returns me gently to the present. I can’t imagine visiting Donegal without repeating my stroll, and wouldn’t want to try. Familiar places renew memories and reward the soul, like well-loved friends. Each visit plants new memories, and recalls past charms too. Little walks do that – they reward the comfortable and the familiar, like holding hands with your partner when the fit of each finger is as practiced as breathing, and just like holding hands they bring a warm rush of blood when those fingers squeeze even after decades together.