After our adventure at Giant's Causeway, we took it easy on our last day in Belfast, did a little walking around the neighborhood but mostly chilled out at home. I remember falling into a splendid nap on the couch and drinking lots of ginger tea to encourage my immune system to flush out the cold that was making itself cozy in my face. Dusk settling in with fairy lights aglow in the kitchen, passing around leftover banoffi pie and freshly baked cookies, the rhythmic click of knitting needles and fingers flying over the Irish flute, late-night hugs leaning over a laptop as it was announced that Australians had voted overwhelmingly in favor of marriage equality. Hot water bottles and a cold attic slumber party.
Morning came with sunshine and goodbyes, with our charming host headed off to work, Sandy back to Germany, and Asa and I back to the Republic of Ireland for the more intense hiking leg of our adventure. Destination: Glenveagh National Park in Co. Donegal, northwest Ireland, where we would spend a day and a half exploring this "remote and hauntingly beautiful wilderness". We were pumped.
The drive there touted some typically Irish landscapes -- rolling, green hills dotted with sheep -- and Asa and the GPS did an excellent job navigating the narrow, winding roads while I rolled my window up and down and up and down, exclaiming this and that while taking pictures. He was a very good sport about the whole thing.
Once we neared the national park, the landscape changed dramatically from lush green to barren, rust-colored vistas, as if we had just driven onto a different planet. After parking and venturing out along the first trail through the grassland, the sky wavering between rain and sun, Asa said something along the lines of, "So, this is Rohan". And so it was, rather. Only without the horses, or any people, for that matter. In fact, we hardly saw another soul that whole afternoon or the following day. Probably because it was the middle of the week in late November in the middle of nowhere with somewhat miserable weather, but whatever. The silence was delicious.
There were still a couple hours of daylight to go once done with the nature trail, so we circled around back to the lake and followed the road along the water to the castle, then took the trail leading above the castle to check out the view.
Yup. Worth it.
When the angels stopped singing, we figured it was time to turn around before it got too dark and made it back to the car as the last of the color was draining from the clouds.
It didn't take long to locate our airbnb on the outskirts of a nearby town, and we settled in with hot showers, soup, and grilled cheese. We wanted to make an early start the next day to explore as much of the park as possible, so set a pre-dawn alarm, breakfasted mightily, and drove back north as the sun stretched its first rays over the red-brown hills. It was drizzly and overcast as we started the Upper Glen Walk along Lough Veagh, and remained so for the rest of the day except for a few spectacular minutes of sunshine scattered here and there along the way.
The road took us back through the castle gardens and the continued along the lake, winding through groves of old, wind-twisted trees, overgrown with ivy and soft moss. In the literature about the trails there is mention of a "Poisoned Glen", and though it was unmarked, this fit the description. It was eerily beautiful and could have easily been host to ancient, dark magic.
We took a break where the lake narrowed to a stream, at the base of a huge waterfall descending from the Derryveagh Mountains. A few rays of sun lit the cliffs a bright orange against a passing patch of blue sky before the clouds returned and muted the colors once again.
From there we continued along the path as it climbed up and out of the valley, and past the creaky gate marking the boundary of the national park. At that point we were clear out of the glen and after briefly surveying the surrounding grassy hillsides, turned back.
When two Americans go hiking in a place far from home, you can betcher bottom dollar that there will be banana and peanut butter sandwiches. Snack of champions.
Then this happened, several times actually. We may not have seen much sun, but we definitely got a fine share of rainbows, such as this one shining over the castle way off in the distance.
This was another moment that pleased me to no end. Purple sheep in a green grove, munching magical moss amidst the twisted trees.
Wanting to optimize our daylight use and see as much of the park as we could, we took a detour on the way back and walked a ways along the Lough Inshagh path until the sun set and we turned around. More wild, wilder, wilderness. The whole time. The whole park. Breathtaking, even in the rain. And oh, be still my heart to think what views might be viewed in fine weather!
The last couple kilometers we walked in the near dark, which was a lovely thing unto itself, just being outside in that faraway place, the landscape deepening in shades of blue, disappearing in the night air. The stillness. Knowing how unlikely it was that I would ever be in this remote place on this green isle again, with one of my best friends, and being grateful for every moment.
