The Waters Edge hotel was a boon to the weary traveler. Except no breakfast was available until 10 am. Not good for those of us who want to get on the road.
So, we thought we were being clever by leaving early to hunt down a tasty breakfast somewhere down the road. Little did we know, it was a decision we’d come to rue. But I’ll save that story for later.
First stop of the day was the town of Ramelton. It is a pretty little place.
It is the birthplace of David Gallaher, the first All Blacks captain. The sculpture in his honour, “Forged in New Zealand,” stands as a testament to his legacy. I made sure to take Andy to visit the small park and capture a photo of my two kiwis.
We continued on. You would think a town the size of Letterkenny would have an open cafe. Nope. On to Buncrana on the R238. Which was devoid of buns. Leaving Buncrana we turn off onto the Westbrook road. This is a bit twisty but the best was to come. It disappears into the moors and turns and climbs into the Gap of Mamore.
This is a fairly short but idyllic motorcycle road. Staggering views, hair pin bends, narrow and twisty. It has it all. We stopped for photos. How can you not when confronted with such beauty.
Photos never do it justice though. But the memories they provoke in the years ahead will. I had to take a little rest. Andy had his camera ready. Of course he did.
We continued the descent on the north side.
The road continues into the small village of Clonmany. At last! A Lavazza coffee sign. We stopped. We had breakfast. Well brunch really. A lonely local took pity on us and sat down at our table. Uninvited. We got a potted history of his life. You can guess it was not the stuff of legend. We gave the “oh really’s and wows” at the required time. He left us for his large scotch and lager at 11am. Just a lonely sole needing an ear. We ate. We moved on.
Rejoining the R238 through Ballyliffin we turned north on the road to Malin Head. Passing the aerials of the Malin Head Coastguard radio station, the road becomes slow going. The raw force of the wind tries its best to push us off the road. It twists and ducks over and around rocky outcrops before climbing to Malin Head.
The wind screams. The sea is white and foaming. The very next minute, blue skies. We take shelter behind the lookout post as the next wave of rain and wind pass through. You cant go into the shelter. It smells like a Napoleonic toilet.
The rain is lashing and all we can do is grin. We have succeeded in getting to the most northerly point of Eire. We recall Old Head of Kinsale at the southern end where the fog shrouded the view. A seat to take a rest looks out over the boiling sea. Beside it is this.
It was raw up there. We got our photos and moved on.
Descending down from the high point at Magilligans lookout, we drop down into Inishowen head.
We view the lighthouse and Stroove beach before heading through Greencastle. Our journey ends at the Redcastle Hotel.
As I type, my valet Andy has procured two pints of Guinness. We are celebrating the fact that we have all but completed the Wild Atlantic Way. Tomorrow we cross the border into Northern Ireland.
Woodend Wanderer 