The edge of the world
Janes new adventures:
Well, the theme for new adventures this year is ‘Edge of the World’. It started with a trip to Fuerteventura at the end of February- a trip that had been planned for some time but happened to coincide with the arrival of the ‘beast from the east’. We left Newcastle airport a couple of hours before the storm landed and covered the north east with a huge blanket of snow.
We arrived on the island to a temperature of 25 degrees and headed for a fishing village on the north west tip, on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean. It was lovely – quite wild and not a standard holiday destination, as Geoff said “wow, I feel like I’m on the edge of the world”.
That first evening we decided to go in search of something to eat and found a very inviting Swiss bar offering home made cheese omelettes and Django Reinhardt as background music. Had a couple of beers, delicious omelettes and were about to leave when a voice said “oh darling – you’re English- please have a drink with us”. Well, never ones to turn down an invitation like that we agreed and sat down with her, her partner and another beer.
As we were chatting, Geoff happened to mention this was our first visit to Fuerteventura and how he felt he was on the edge of the world. “My dad made a film called ‘The Edge of the World’ said the guy. As we are big fans of 1940s/50s Powell and Pressburger films, Geoff replied “well your dad must be either Michael Powell or Emeric Pressburger” and there it was. Michael Powell’s son in a Swiss bar on the edge of the world discussing his fathers films, Scotland and people dear to Geoff’s heart. It was wonderful start to a great trip.
Later that week I sent our friend Claire a photo of ‘the blue lagoons of El Cotillo’ and she sent me a photo of ‘the road to your house’.
Our second venture to the edge of the world was a trip to the west coast of Ireland in our newly acquired camper van.
We left home later than planned to head to Cairnryan to catch the midnight ferry to Larne, arriving at 2am. It’s much cheaper to travel at that time and there is something other worldly about sharing a late night ferry with truck drivers, Irish football fans and huge livestock wagons.
Decided to park at Larne ferry terminal to get a few hours sleep before heading to Donegal, our first destination. Found a quiet car park but the incredible hum of the ferries parked nearby resulted in very little sleep.
Left the incessant hum of the car park and drove to (London)Derry before crossing the border. When we bought our van the previous owner had a personalised number plate on it – RIG 3670. We were quite happy to keep it as it really wasn’t something we felt strongly about one way or the other but when we were driving along we realised that lots of the number plates were like ours. It’s an Irish plate – as someone commented to us later in our trip – you are almost local!
Arrived in Derry, parked beside the lovely river Foyle and went in search of breakfast. Came across a swish eatery which we decided was more suited to our sons than us and went next door to a great café with homemade raspberry and white chocolate scones, still warm from the oven, with jam and fresh cream plus a good shot of strong coffee. Felt human again!
We then went for an explore of Derry and in search of a map of Ireland as the the one we had ordered hadn’t arrived before we left. What a beautiful place Derry is – a walled city with a wonderful cathedral, various churches and dramatic buildings. A chequered history though with periods of much unrest. I do hope it can build and maintain a peaceful future.
We left Derry and crossed the border into Donegal – not though you’d know you had crossed a border except the road signs are also in Gaelic and distances in km’s. Very different to my last visit in the late 1970’s at the height of the troubles, and thankfully so.
Drove west and found a lovely spot to pull up, next to a beach. Cooked a supper of creamy peppers, onions and tomatoes with salad and olive bread plus the addition of sausages for Geoff. He is hoping to go out recording ringed plover on the beach tomorrow followed by fishing off the rocks for whatever might appear. Let’s see what happens.
The day of the bull
Our second day in Donegal will be forever known as ‘the day of the bull’. Geoff returns from fishing with no fish but an announcement. “Don’t be alarmed – there is a bull loose up the road. He’s quite small though and seems happy enough chomping grass and there’s a cattle grid between us and him anyway”. Well – I’m not at all keen on cattle when out walking in Northumberland so I feel slight panic rising at the thought of a roaming bull. But, we go out for a walk and all’s OK as he’s the other side of the cattle grid looking at us. Unless he’s a very clever bull he won’t get across the grid. He is very beautiful though and reminds me of a young Torro from Andalucia (then I think – ummmm – they are bred for the bull fighting ring!).
Later in the day we walk along the beach, into the dunes and come across a lovely carpet of sea holly.
After a while we decide we are peckish and head back to the van and yes, my fear has come true – the bull was clever enough to navigate the cattle grid and is now outside our van. I refuse to go any further but Geoff is Mr Calm and takes control. He goes ahead, opens the van and instructs me to approach from a different direction. Safely inside I sit down with a glass of red wine and Geoff shows me the image on the front of the wine carton. Very amusing!
After a couple of days, we move on from our lovely beach side spot as we need to top up on water and charge electric. We decide to go for a campsite at Dungloe as it has good reviews. When we arrive we also discover a Daniel O’Donnell visitor centre (as he was born near by) with all his gold discs and lots of memorabilia but very sadly it was closed. As was the campsite we were planning to stay at so we go further down the coast, along very narrow winding roads to an amazing spot nestled in sand dunes by a stunning beach. This is a true Atlantic beach, deserted too. Very hard to put into words how stupendous it was and photos don’t really do it justice.
We then spent a couple of days gradually making our way from Donegal to Connemara, via county Mayo. Geoff has a few goes at sea and river fishing but no luck. At one point on the trip we went very close to the border again so drove a few miles into the north to stock up on van provisions (primarily wine) as it’s very expensive in the republic. Luckily I have two sections in my purse – one for pounds and one for euros – just have to remember where I am!. We also went into our first Irish bar to make use of free wi-if and watched an episode of Father Ted on the bar TV.
We parked up overnight on the car park of a football club, in a very nice spot with river and lake nearby and the next morning drove to Westport.
It’s a very pretty town and happened to have two lovely bookshops so Geoff and I succumbed to a new book each, even though we are supposed to be getting rid of books not buying more. Westport has a nice quay and in the bay, there are lots of small islands making for a dramatic sea scape - if there hadn’t been so much mizzle we would have had a lovely view.
In the 16th century, Grace O’Malley ruled the sea and land in this area. She was known as the pirate queen and was an educated woman who took over as queen of the clan when her father died. Stories of her courage and seafaring skills passed down through generations of Irish poems and folklore. My great grandmother was Irish and I was thinking how fab it would be if I was descended from the pirate queen, but my great grandmother was a Garrity, so rather unlikely, which is a shame.
We leave Mayo, enter Connemara and find a cosy campsite to hole up as its raining and raining. When the rain lets up, we walk along the beach and although Geoff hasn’t caught any fish as yet, he caught a very splendid seaweed specimen.
Leave the campsite the next day to travel along the coast, via the Connemara visitor centre (which is pretty rubbish should you ever find yourself in the area) and onto an ‘Eco campsite’ in a lovely location, with a small but nice beach on one side and a sea loch on the other. The next morning Geoff goes out fishing but no fish caught although he did see some in the beautiful clear water.
We go into Clifden which is known as the capital of Connemara, to stock up on provisions and had lunch at a wonderful van run by a beautiful french speaking Irish woman selling savoury crepes. Mine was gorgeous – goats cheese, home made pesto, sun dried tomatoes, red peppers and spinach. What a find.
Geoff was also happy when we found a butchers selling homemade beef burgers – 5 for 5€ . He has gone along with our van meals (since the sausages ran out) falafel, pasta, beans, salad, cheese and so on but was definitely after some meat. Returned to the campsite and managed to BBQ the burgers before the rain came in.
Recording and BBQing at the same time
The next day was stormy and wet with more stormy and wet weather forecast. We left the campsite and after a hair raising journey down single track, very narrow road, found a good wild camping spot overlooking a small beach and sea loch. Because of the weather we spent most of the afternoon / evening in the van, and although it gave me a bit of cabin fever, it meant that I had the opportunity to finish the book I was reading “The Outrun” by Amy Liptrot. I picked up the book by chance from the book swap shelf where I work but co-incidentally the book also has an edge of the world theme. It is a memoir of her life spent on the edge – growing up on Orkney then extreme times spent in London. As one reviewer said “ this is a book about making peace with life on the edge of the world”. It’s a very good book.
We have a stormy night followed by a beautiful stormy morning. Bright, no rain but very breezy. Geoff goes out fishing off the rocks and I go walking along the top of the dunes/coastal grassland. Beautiful Scabius, Eyebright and Sea campion.
Then I hear a whistle and it’s Geoff indicating for me to go back to the van. I know somethings happened and it sure has – he has managed to cut a nice slice into his finger whilst using his knife to prise limpets off the rocks for bait. First aid administered, we stay around for a while before heading to a campsite along the stupendous ‘sky road’. What a view.
We park the van, go for a walk, see an Irish hare and a sturdy Connemara pony scratching himself on a fence post. Back to the site and there is an influx of huge French Motorhomes – a section of the site has been cordoned off to accommodate them and we wonder – what is the French connection to Connemara?
The next day is very wet and stormy so we stay around the site as it has wi-fi for us do all things internet related.
Leave the campsite at lunchtime along the stormy coast, past yet more stunning beaches, through the fishing village of Longstone and then go a little way inland. Park up over night in a fishing spot on the edge of a loch and at some point during the night it stops raining. Lovely light the next morning.
We decide to travel into ‘Joyce’s country’. When we saw this on the map, we assumed it was an area with a connection to James Joyce, but apparently not. It is named after the Joyce colony who arrived from Wales in the 14th century. It is very beautiful, with inland lochs surrounded by mountains. The lochs are so big you think you are looking out to sea. Lunch and a walk along the loch side then go into Cong (Conga), a very small village in a great spot but with a whole tourist industry built up around the John Wayne film ‘The Quiet Man’ which was filmed there in 1951. I’m slightly surprised it is still such a tourist hot-spot but then I can’t say I follow John Wayne movies – maybe there is still a big fan club out there. Now, I do rather like Game of Thrones so I wouldn’t mind visiting some of the filming locations in the north of Ireland – there’s a ‘location trail’ you can follow but that will have to wait for another trip.
Bronze statue of John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara
Park overnight beside a river and the next morning travel inland to meet up with a friend Agnes, who I have seen for 25 years. We went via a lake, a woodland walk to the ruins of Moore House, chatted with a Latvian family collecting fungi and also walked around a ruined 14c priory.
Moore House
Then drove for a while to get to ‘Gene Anderson’s thatched pub’ near Carrick on Shannon which holds traditional Irish music sessions; all musicians and singers welcome plus they let you park up your van for the night if you buy the musicians a pint.
It was a wonderful pub and night – I don’t know how but they managed to get me and Geoff up dancing a traditional Irish ‘heel and toe’ dance ( which was rather clumsy as we still had our walking boots on). Geoff also played a couple of songs with the musicians, despite a sliced finger so I was very proud! Got to bed at 1.30am after we were invited to stay back with a couple of locals for an Irish coffee+whiskey nightcap.
The next morning we went into Carrick on Shannon for breakfast (and to wake up) before our drive to the Belfast ferry terminal for our boat to Cairnryan. Drove north, skirting the Iron mountains, into Belfast docks, onto the ferry and back home to plan our next trip!
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