JULY 2014 : IRELAND : Killybegs and surrounds

                                     Today we investigated South West Donegal 

     Harbour empty at 5am with the fishing fleet out early. Only smaller boats out at this time of year with the large fishing fleet, undergoing annual maitenance in preparation for the beginning of the next season in September.

    Breakfast at Seawinds B&B.

We set off in rain this morning, undaunted, to explore the cliffs at McSwyne Bay and the Glenveagh National Park.

    Not as many gardens or wildflowers in this area but all the vegetation was rich and green.

      

     

         Lots of sheep feeding on the rich vegetation on the hillsides.

          

In 1802 small stone towers were constructed down the west coast and used to light warning fires to alert locals to a possible French invasion.

                                   

  Sliabh Liag or the Bunglas cliffs are the highest accessible cliffs in Europe. The highest point reaching 600m. Mark overheard a tour guide say that they have found that there is a geological connection with these cliffs and the Appalachian Mountains in the US.

      

         

              Descending the Bunglas Cliffs with small hamlets in the distance.

       

                                  

             

                                   An ancient pilgrim stone marker in Glencolmcille.

                           It is on the St Columba pilgrimage path and dates back to 500-700 AD.

In this Glengesh Valley area the main industry seems to be sheep, small woollen mills (Donegal tweed) and peat excavation for fuel.

   Portnoo, an attractive seaside village north of Killybegs.

Lunch at Nancy's pub in Ardara. A seventh generation family pub, with Nancy being a publican in the 1860s.

  Pubs are welcoming to all - families, the elderly, friends - such a lovely tradition.

   Seafood chowder and a prawn soda bread sandwich and a ploughman's lunch in Adara.

    There is a 17th century folk village in the area but similar houses are still in vogue.

         

A meal at a recommended restaurant in the next village. We just missed Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew Brodrick (and their 3 children) who ate there last week.

                                           

                                                                                                 

With the 100th anniversary of the beginning of WW1 there is an exhibition at Trinity College in Dublin. One section is on personal stories. Travelling in the car we have been listening to the radio and have been fascinated by some of the interviews. One story that was detailed was that of Jack Kipling. He was deemed shortsighted and refused admission into the armed forces. His father, Rudyard Kipling, intervened and was able to speak to the powers that be and waiver normal procedure. Jack was killed in 1915 in France, only 18. The poem below tells of the devastation of a father who had, in fact, orchestrated his son's death.

My son Jack / Rudyard Kipling

 

“Have you news of my boy Jack?”
Not this tide.
“When d’you think that he’ll come back?”
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.

“Has any one else had word of him?”
Not this tide.
For what is sunk will hardly swim,
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.

“Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?”
None this tide,
Nor any tide,
Except he did not shame his kind —
Not even with that wind blowing, and that tide.

Then hold your head up all the more,
This tide,
And every tide;
Because he was the son you bore,
And gave to that wind blowing and that tide!

M&M

4/7/2014