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Our cycle tour of Donegal

Making wishes at the Fairy Bridges at sunset with Ben Bulbin behind me and St John’s Point far in the distance. 500 km of Donegal’s rugged coastline lay in front of me and my bicycle. Bundoran, my childhood home was just the beginning. Forty years living in these parts and I’d never really slowed down enough to enjoy it. Now, I was here with my partner Dan. I would show this English man what Ireland was about. Yes, I would show him.


Killybegs, the greatest fishing port was our first port of call. We are sailors and spent a year sailing around the Atlantic Ocean. I’d fished for mackerel with my Dad at Killybegs, but I’d never spent any real time there. Patricia from Seawinds B&B ensured our time in this town was memorable. There is nothing in the world like an Irish B&B. If you want to be alone, they’ll leave you be. On the other hand, if you want to explore, to really get to know a place, a good host will know everything and when they don’t, they know someone who does. We saw where carpets fit for kings are made, met a historian who made us laugh and shed a tear. There were books, poetry and copious amounts of tea. As someone from this land, I know this is not a tourist gimmick, this is what I love about Ireland and quickly settled into the slow rhythm of the land. It’s the people who make a place special. It’s a land of storytellers and music lovers.

The Wild Atlantic Way

I found myself pedalling to the pulse of the waves, listening to the songbirds, cattle lowing and sheep bleating. I heard the Bards whisper their words in the wind. The aroma of sweet coconut drifted from golden whins. Lines from Groove Armada’s ‘If you’re fond of sand dunes and salty air…’ filled my head and I lost count of the long sandy beaches. After a few days, it was clear that I was not showing Dan my beautiful country, it was he who was showing me. We discovered hidden coves unseen from a car and a multitude of tiny harbours and piers. Clouds rolled over Errigal’s pink tinged cone to the table top mountain of Muckish, creating constantly changing shadows and shapes. Each peninsula with a unique offering. Lighthouses, soaring cliffs and shark’s tooth sea stacks reminding us of the wildness and power of the sea. The path we rode was not new, but given a new name – The Wild Atlantic Way. 
                                                                                                                        Author : Meraid Griffin  Faraway Visions

Book a B&B Donegal Book a B&B Donegal

Posted: 19 Aug 2014 by Claire Regan | with 0 comments

Tags: Donegal, Wild Atlantic Way

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