Day 90
January 1, 2022:
Departed Sligo. Slight detour toward Rosses Point
Decided not to look at the beach at Grange
I waited under a gas station plaza roof while a rain storm passed by. Went inside and bought sour candy to chew on. Looked at the classic atlantico.ie Wild Atlantic Way map. Such a great map.
Got a flat tire on the way to Mullaghmore. Patched tire. Checked for protrusions. Found and removed one. Old farmer asked if I was alright; I was. Just took me a minute to fix it up.
Cycled to Mullaghmore. Point sticks out into the Atlantic. Has a beautiful beach that reminded family of the Hamptons - though I’ve never been there, so I wouldn’t know. The point had huge Atlantic waves smashing against the rocks. I parked my bike and went down onto the rocks to take a look. Didn’t get too close. Didn’t want to get wet. Certainly didn’t want to fall in. Those waves, against those rocks - fatal. I’m good swimmer, but I wouldn’t stand a chance. The power of the sea is immense, and it deserves respect. I remembered the statistic that half of all drowning victims don’t expect to end up in the water.
Passed Castle Classiebawn. Some old lord made it his summer home. My gosh.
Cycled straight back past N15 towards the Gleniff Horseshoe, as had been recommended some days ago by Kuba and Olga at Downpatrick Head. I wouldn’t have gone here if it weren’t for them. It would be evening soon, so I looked for a campsite on the way. That was just as well, because it started raining quite heavily. I found a patch of woods to the side of the road, and negotiated my bike around the yellow and black gate. I set the bike down and dove into the woods, investigating for a spot. Ideally, it’d be flat, dry, sheltered from the storm, hidden from view, and easy to get to. I couldn’t find any place that matched anything close to that characteristic. So I had to keep going.
Stopped at Gleniff Coffee Kart. Young lady there served me hot chocolate, cookies, and an oat bar (called a Flapjack? or something). She told me that the caves up the Gleniff Horseshoe were the most active spot for Mountain Rescue in the county - and possibly all of Ireland. She said people would climb those mountains like they were just any random hill, going unprepared into hostile weather like snow. I told her I’d be careful, and that I certainly wouldn’t be setting off just before dark.
I burned the ever living shit out of my tongue with the hot chocolate. Ugh. Anyway, at least I drank it quickly. I was able to get a good start up the hill as darkness slowly set in. I made it to Ballintrillick Forest, which I had very deliberately been heading for. It has a hiking trail that goes up into it, and it’s Coillte forest land, so almost public. Ish. Simply put, it wouldn’t be the neighbors that would mind. I wandered around in the forest for a bit on each side of the path. I found a few places that looked flat and sheltered, but were soaked. In fact, the only place that wasn’t soaked was on the trail itself. I found a pull-off area where trucks might pass each other on the one-lane dirt road. There, I set up camp. It wouldn’t be in view unless someone directly passed me. Unfortunately, while dry, it wasn’t protected against the wind. That was a bit of an issue given my already weakened tent poles from Inch Beach back on the Dingle peninsula.
