Wild Atlantic Retreat announced for weekend of March 11th-13th 2016, in Glencolmcille, Donegal, Ireland
Let the refreshing ambience of the Wild Atlantic Way soothe your soul in one of Ireland’s most spectacular coastal locations.
Wild Atlantic Retreat
Get away from it all for a magical weekend of pure fresh air, ocean views, chill-out time, hiking, meeting new friends, meditation, live music, good food and spectacular scenery. This is your chance to escape the world, on The Paris Method‘s inaugural Wild Atlantic Retreat in Glencolmcille, County Donegal, Ireland.
The calming influence of the open ocean and spectacular coastline along the Wild Atlantic Way in south west Donegal will revitalize you, setting you up for a great spring and summer. Staying at one of Ireland’s finest hostels, Aras Gleann Colm Cille, you will be treated to the famously warm Donegal welcome, and enjoy a memorable weekend of YOU time.
This is the story of how I first discovered what I call my Wild Atlantic Way Meditation using The Paris Method. I hope that by sharing it, I can help at least one other person to experience a little bit of peace. I would love to tell you that I made this discovery out of some deep experimentation with spirituality involving soft music and candles, but I did not. I discovered it out out of pain, loneliness and desperation. Maybe it was better that way.
Sometimes life gets us down. There are times when we feel the need to just get away from it all. I am no different. Having discovered meditation by chance, while on a trip to Port and Glenlough in County Donegal, I now believe that there is no better place for soothing the soul, than Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Way. I recorded the video below at St John’s Point on a winters evening. I think it epitomizes the soothing influence of the ocean on the Wild Atlantic Way, under a sky that is very specific to Donegal at sunset.
I am not too sure what it is about the ocean that captivates me. I am almost hypnotized by the movement, size, depth, power and beauty of the Atlantic ocean. I love the smell of the seaweed and the salt water, and if in Donegal, the feeling of being deeply cleansed by some of the freshest air imaginable. I love the dynamic coloring of the water, from aqua to white, and blue to grey, sometimes all within a single seascape. I am as content sitting watching the ocean as I am being in it or on it. This stimulation of my senses forms a mystical attraction which pacifies me, cajoling my mind towards complete relaxation.
The calmness and serenity I feel from Wild Atlantic Way meditation on Donegal’s rugged coast, has brought me to a beautiful place emotionally – a place that I did not know existed. Maybe because so much of our body consists of water, we find identification by embracing such volumes of it. Maybe the ocean speaks to us on some higher level of serenity, far beyond our comprehension. We may not be able to understand it, but we can certainly feel it. This gives the ocean a mystical characteristic which is really alluring. The Wild Atlantic Way meditation which I discovered and will describe in this article, gave me one of the most profoundly beautiful experiences of my life.
One of the many different types of sunset over the Atlantic ocean, seen from the Wild Atlantic Way in Donegal
At different times in my past I had been open to the notion of meditation. For one reason or another, be it a busy work schedule, pressures of taking a masters degree, drinking too much, or just from burning the candle at both ends, I had felt down and on edge. Although I was open to meditation, I always thought that it wasn’t for me because my head was too busy. Isn’t it ironic that the very reason that I needed to meditate was the very reasons why I did not.
So, I just stumbled through life, from from dark patch to the next, always with racing thoughts. If I was being creative or when I would be in a happy place, racing thoughts were fine – maybe even beneficial. But when I would suffer lows, my thoughts would continue racing, only this time in a negative manner. So I would just wallow there, and the subsequent self pity would lead to negative and festering emotions.
Maybe I just didn’t want to face myself; preferring to conceal my inner feelings in the shadows cast by anxiety and unhappiness. I am a man after all, and I always understood that a requirement for membership of the masculine club was to appear to be too tough to consider my own feelings. Big boys don’t cry and all that. I think I presumed that everyone felt the same way i did. My life just seemed to rumble along without much awareness. And then I had a biking accident. Absolutely everything changed – and everything changed absolutely.
I came off an electric bike, hitting my head and face off the road at approximately 35mph. I wasn’t wearing a helmet. I suffered a lot of cuts and injuries over most of my body and was also badly concussed. I was, in the words of the surgeon who treated me, ‘lucky to be alive’.
Unable to work, drive or do much at all for two months, I was laid up on a recliner chair in a stupor. A nasty cut to the back of my hand had damaged a nerve, so I was given morphine to relieve pain. Weeks later, when the concussion had cleared, I realized how low I was feeling. My social interaction had evaporated. I was probably suffering from cabin fever and mild circumstantial depression. I remember thinking that I had hit rock bottom. Funnily enough, since then, I have looked back and thought that rock is actually a great foundation on which to build something!
Being injured and off work had created financial problems. The accident had left me experiencing a lot of anxiety and negative thoughts. I felt vulnerable. I suppose it is only when we are forced to stop, that we really take a look at ourselves. I didn’t particularly like what I saw.
I planned a drive to the coast in the hope that a walk would clear my head. So on November 8th 2014, I got into my car and drove. About 45 minutes into the journey I saw a sign post for a place that I had heard of just once before, but had never been. On the spur of the moment, I made the turn. Port is probably one of the remotest places in Ireland, and it would be here, in this most desolate and lonely outpost, that I would find myself.
Panoramic picture at Port, Donegal, on Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Way
The long and lonely road simply comes to an end at a little cove, which is surrounded by dramatic cliffs. The nearest other human being is probably 4 or 5 miles away. I parked up and climbed up on a hillside, eventually arriving at the cliffs. The scenery is absolutely amazing; there is nothing but ocean, sky and the coastline. Man’s footprint has not been visibly left here.
Rainbow over Tormore Island, at Port, Donegal, Ireland
I did not fully appreciate the beautiful scenery at the time. I was distracted. The drive had done little to lift my spirits. I was probably also suffering from self-pity. I walked along the cliff face and repeatedly ran my problems over and over in in my head. I was thinking about the mounting bills, struggles with finding the right medical treatment and how to pay for it. I was worried that my career was coming under threat. And ironically, I was mostly worried about how worried I was.
The walk which was intended as a way of clearing my head, was actually making me feel worse. My negative thoughts were racing, and on each rerun my problems seemed to magnify. I felt at one with this place in terms of isolation. How I was feeling at that time was pretty close to self-inflicted mental torture. Finally, almost out of desperation, I just stopped walking. All of the stress and negative emotions had left me feeling completely exhausted. My rational and logical thinking had been completely browbeaten by worry, negativity and self-pitying emotions. From my vantage point, four hundred feet up on the cliffs of Port, I stood gazing aimlessly out over the Atlantic ocean. Out of sheer desperation I completely surrendered to all of the emotional pain. My thinking was: I am so tired of feeling this way – and I just want to give up.
Time passed. Eventually I sat down on some heather, continuing to stare out over the ocean. A breeze was blowing onshore, and my senses were filled with the sights and sounds of the Atlantic. I noticed the patchwork or colors on the water, where in places the faint sunlight was breaking through the clouds, sending sunbeams down onto the ocean. Other patches were darkened by the passing of a heavy isolated shower. There was an average swell, and I watched as the waves made their way towards the base of the cliffs, where they would smash against the rock, sending spray high up onto the cliff face. A few hardy sea birds hovered in the wind, no doubt searching for an evening meal. I didn’t really notice it happening, but I began to relax. (If i had have noticed, it might not have happened!)
The view over the Atlantic ocean, from the remote cliffs at Port, County Donegal, Ireland
In the past, when I had tried to meditate, I had merely ended up getting more frustrated and stressed. I read once that when trying to meditate, that I should concentrate on emptying my head of all thoughts. How on earth could I both concentrate and have no thoughts at the same time?! That contradiction always bothered me. But by simply taking in the phenomenal natural beauty of my surroundings on the Wild Atlantic Way, I had finally arrived at the point where my frenzied thoughts were quieted by more conscious thought. And that is when I inadvertently practiced The Paris Method for the first time. That method finally afforded me the chance to harness and relax my rollercoaster thoughts enough so that I could meditate – and it was beautiful.
It had started when I had surrendered my quest to find immediate solutions to my problems, and became aware of my surroundings. I came to realize that my perspective at that very moment was pretty good. I was under no immediate pressure, and the panoramic view in front of me was pretty spectacular. So right at that moment, I realized that all of my worries were either in the past, where I could not change them, or were so far off in the future that they did not require a solution right there and then – if at all. I discovered that all I really needed to focus on at that very moment, was that very moment. That was a really nice and welcomed thought, and it completely grounded and pacified me.
400 feet above the Atlantic waves. Port Cliffs, Donegal, Ireland
I then made a decision that regardless of how dire my financial, medical or career situations actually were, I would face them with a positive attitude. I realized that I was completely on my own, and that the only ally that I could call upon was myself. If I was to rely on myself alone, then I needed to make sure that my attitude was positive, otherwise I would be working against myself which would only serve to restart the emotional turmoil.
Upon reflection of how I could adjust my attitude, I realized that much of my worry was actually brought about by procrastination regarding medical appointments, paperwork, and communication with my employers. I made a decision right there and then to deal with those outstanding matters at the first available opportunity. And guess what? Once I made the decision, my problems suddenly seemed more manageable, and my worry towards them began decreasing. I had done nothing but make a decision, and my problems had eased to the extent that they faded from my present thought.
This brought me to realize that life can sometimes be difficult for a reason. I thought on one of my favorite movie quotes: ‘without the bitter, the sweet aint as sweet.‘ By becoming aware that these tough times may actually serve the purpose of enhancing the good times, I had given myself the inspiration to fight my way out of this low ebb.
The peace that I was starting to find led to the final step, which is spirituality. I was so grateful to have the opportunity to enjoy such a beautiful location, with a thought process which wasn’t racing uncontrollably like a neurotic roller-coaster. This awareness and gratitude made me very much aware of the growing sense of spirituality which I was feeling. The more I focused on it, the more beautiful and enjoyable it became. And that, is how I arrived in a meditative state for the first time in my life. It was peacefully euphoric.
Maybe men don’t openly talk about these sorts of emotions regularly, but I am not ashamed to say it: I had found the most serenely beautiful moment of my life. Given that just a short time earlier I had been pacing with worry and anxiety, it seemed incredible that I had found such a peaceful feeling. Maybe it is true what they say: the darkest hour is just before dawn. I began to realize that the more I had surrendered the more I enjoyed it. I had started to learn about the importance of nothing.
As I made my way back down the hillside to the little cove, it felt as though I was walking on air. My head was clear, and my outlook was greatly improved. On the road home though the wilds of central Donegal, I replayed the experience. I wanted to bottle this peacefulness, and to do that, I had to understand how I had arrived at the feeling. I labelled the steps I had gone through up on the cliff top. Perspective, Attitude, Reflection, Inspiration and Spirituality. I would later abbreviate these steps, creating the PARIS acronym. Paris was a very poignant term, because I had also had an experience in the French capital over 10 years previously. But on that occasion I had not stayed with the feeling long enough to have understood it.
Since that day of revelation at Port, Wild Atlantic Way meditation has continued to bring much peace and joy. Even when I am unable to get to the ocean, I imagine that I am there, and repeat those 5 simple steps of The Paris Method. I imagine the sounds of the waves; the wind and the sea birds. And I imagine the entire Wild Atlantic Way seascape under the amazing twilight of a Donegal sunset. The experiences are just too profound to keep to myself. I know that I have to share them.
Sunset over the Wild Atlantic Way, at Port, Donegal
There is something magically transformative about the ocean. Just as the salt water can help to heal our broken skin, the clean air and the vast expansive ocean can somehow also heal our minds, and soothe our soul. I know without doubt that the rugged Atlantic coastline of county Donegal has given me a remarkable awareness of how to be myself, and how to like what I see when I meditate.
This Wild Atlantic Way meditation has turned my entire thinking around, allowing me to appreciate life on a whole different level. I am a long way from perfect (I have no wish to be perfect!), but my wild atlantic way meditation has given me a framework onto which I can build some positive direction in my life. Up until today, that direction has taken me on a journey which is so beautiful that I cannot even start to put it into words. But I will, eventually.
The fact is, that back on that November day in 2014, I had not yet encountered the worst effects of my biking accident. I am still working through those. It is a long, arduous, and sometimes very unpleasant process, but my Wild Atlantic Way meditation is helping me to get through it.
Maybe, just maybe, if you try The Paris Method for yourself, you will discover some of the peace that I am referring to. I really hope you do.
The Wild Atlantic Way on Ireland’s western sea-board is the longest defined and most dramatic ocean drive in the world. From Donegal’s Malin Head at Ireland’s most northerly point, to Mizen Head in County Cork, the 1,500 mile tourist trail is a must see for ocean lovers with a sense of adventure. The secret to an amazing Wild Atlantic Way experience is to get off the beaten track, and go ‘Far From the Madding Crowds’ to places like Port and Glenlough.
Rainbow over Tormore Island, near Port and Glenlough, County Donegal, Ireland
Port and Glenlough
If you love the raw forces of the ocean, dramatic coastal scenery, and remote barren landscapes, then Port and Glenlough on the Wild Atlantic Way is definitely for you. This beautiful outpost is so remote, that more often than not, you will have only the sheep, sea birds and seals to keep you company. Forgive their suspicions; they don’t often see people out around these parts. Only the most inquisitive of adventurers have headed Port-bound.
The whole area is not for the faint hearted. Out here, there is no passing traffic, intermittent phone signal, and often, not another human being within a 5 mile radius. Two memorials commemorate the 19 souls who lost their lives when the merchant ship Sydney was shipwrecked here in a huge storm on October 16th 1870. This can be an eerie place; beautiful but beastly. Agoraphobiacs beware, for there is little here but dangerous cliffs, a single holiday cottage, small jetty, a few broken down wall-steads and nature. Lots of unbridled nature. All things considered, it is the quintessential secret gem of the Wild Atlantic Way.
Approaching from the lively and traditional town of Ardara, glacial Glengeash Pass signals departure into the wilderness. From here on, the road to Port could be considered one of the loneliest byways in Ireland. The Road to Glenlough is even more ghostly, for it does not even exist, except as the title of a traditional Irish fiddle tune. This is the place where reality meets fantasy.
The spectacular coastline at Port, Donegal, Ireland – one of the secrets gems of the Wild Atlantic Way
On the final approach, the single-laned road carves downwards through a lonely hidden valley and eventually terminates at the spectacular inlet of Port. The cove at the end of the inlet has a stone beach, where thousands of large dorlins clatter together under the strong wash of each Atlantic wave. The outer jaws of the inlet consist of unusually jagged cliffs and stacks – one of which looks like a huge pillar. Local legend has it that this is the devil’s tail; protruding from the watery grave to where he was banished by Saint Colmcille.
A mountain stream falls over the the nearby cliff face; pure spring water cascading into the ocean. The fresh air is fused with the marine aroma of salt and seaweed. You can feel the sharp freshness of the air in your chest. The roar of the ocean crashing against the cliffs, is pierced only by the call of the odd seagull, puffin or gannet. And those clattering dorlins. You have arrived face to face with the immense power of the Atlantic Ocean on Ireland’s most isolated coastal frontier.
Living on the edge – An abandoned cottage near the wild Atlantic Ocean at Port, Donegal, Ireland
After you have marveled at the remote and rugged beauty of Port, the final leg of your journey to Glenlough will seem even more elusive. And to many it is. You will need to climb the very steep hillside to the northeastern side of the cove. There is also a pathway on the southwestern side, which meanders along the cliffs tops, past the Napoleonic tower, and into the village of Glencolmcille. But Glenlough; you really need to see Glenlough.
One of the many beautiful Atlantic sunsets over Glenn Head, Port, Donegal, Ireland
Only the fit and mobile will make it to the top of the hill which signals the start of your 3km hike to Glenlough. From up here you really get a sense of the isolation, and of how much of a battering the coastline takes from the north Atlantic storms. On a decent day you will be able to see up to 35 miles of ocean stretched out in front of you to the horizon. Next stop America. It is fascinating to watch the varying weather patterns across such an expanse of open water. The clouds, sunbeams and rain showers give the panorama such a vibrant light and color spectrum.
The wonderfully dynamic seascapes at Port and Glenlough, Donegal, Ireland.
Extreme care is needed while walking along the clifftop. There is no clearly defined path, the cliffs of Port Hill drop 800 feet almost vertically into the ocean below and the bog ground cover sits on a gravel foundation, which can often become undermined due to the elements. Underfoot conditions, and the gradient of some of the slopes make for slow progress. You will also find it impossible to keep a constant pace, as the scenery (and your pumping heart) regularly demands your attention. But it is worth it. The scenery is amazing!
Tormore Island is particularly impressive. At 490 feet, Tormore is the highest sea stack in Ireland, and despite some tales of yore and possibly lore, it was scaled for the first time on August 10th 2008 by Iain Miller and his team. Miller, a former ships engineer, who had often admired Donegal from the seaward side, has since explored this coastline more than most. Although a highly skilled and courageous climber, he describes Tormore stack as being ‘very dangerous’. I wouldn’t disagree. Even from the top of Port Hill, simply looking over the cliff towards the stack is intimidating. From up here on a stormy day, it is impossible to hear the swells battering the base of the cliff. But you can see it, and feel it. Waves driven by the wind break upwards on collision with the rocks, and in storms I have witnessed the salty spray rise high over the cliff face and far inland, onto the barren hillside.
How is your head for heights? The fantastic 800 foot cliffs at Port and Glenlough, Donegal, Ireland
As you reach the top of the hill, you catch your first glimpse of the extended Donegal coastline to the north. Rossbeg, Aranmore Island and Loughros Peninsula come into view. Yet more stunning coastline. But there is an even greater spectacle laying in store, unseen as yet, for it is hundreds of feet below the cliffs in your foreground.
Glenlough Bay with it’s sea-stacks and storm beach – The secret gem of the Wild Atlantic Way
Glenlough Bay is probably Ireland’s most secret location, and one of the most beautiful. Unlike Port, which at least has a road, Glenough remains untouched by the modern world. There is nothing by which to time-stamp the bay or the valley above it. This is timeless, uninterrupted natural beauty. The otherworldly sea stacks catch your attention immediately. One such stack is almost too surreal, and you could easily imagine that some giant has left it there, carefully balanced, right on the shoreline. One of the stacks is aptly named ‘Ends of the Earth’. The raised beach system is also of great geological interest. While descending the cliffs to the shoreline here is very difficult, it is still possible. Iain Miller from Unique Ascent has written a guide to getting down onto the beach. Down here, you are far from everywhere. It really is such a magical treasure.
The amazing coastline of Port and Glenlough, from the summit of Tormore Island. Image credit: Iain Miller
It was from a clifftop above this secret paradise, on a brisk November day that I sat on a clump of heather, looked out over the wild atlantic ocean, and had the most profound experience of my life. The ocean raged. But in the maelstrom I found calm; the most beautiful calmness I have ever experienced. The recipe for recreating that peace and contentment is today called The Paris Method™. I am in no doubt that this was the only possible place where I could have been given such inspiration, and the conviction to make use of it.
Spectacular sea stacks and raised storm beach at Glenlough Bay, Donegal, Ireland. Image credit: Iain Miller
Why you will wonder, have you not seen images nor heard tales of this beautiful place until now? That little puzzle, is what makes Glenlough Bay all the more wildly beautiful. You have entered the realm of imagination: a place that captivates, revitalizes, inspires and slightly overwhelms.
Unbeknown to me at the time, inspiration had also been sought and granted here in the past. There are some unusual tales of people who have spent time here, seeking out the wild to inspire them and bring peace. While tales of Bonny Prince Charlie hanging out here while waiting for a boat to take him to France, deadly beasts rising from the deep, and sightings of the mythical island of Hy Brasil may be wildly exaggerated or fantastical, Glenlough’s past does reveal some characters.
Local man Dan Ward, AKA The New Zealander, returned from the southern hemisphere to Glenlough with his wife Rose in the early twentieth century. Here, they fulfilled their dream of ‘buying a valley’ and living in peace by the Atlantic ocean. They set up home in a simple stone dwelling with detached cow byre and set about tending their huge hill farm. But in 1926, they were joined by an unlikely visitor. American artist Rockwell Kent (who illustrated the most popular edition of Moby Dick), had arrived at Port in his quest to escape mankind. Finding 3 cottages there, he was crestfallen to discover that even ”at the end of the earth there was man”. He craved yet more isolation, reportedly pleading ”if we could only find a little house beyond mankind!” There was only one place to send a man with those wishes. Having been pointed up onto the hillside by locals, Kent explored the area and eventually found Dan and Rose Ward’s cottage in Glenlough Valley.
After some negotiations, Dan’s cow was evicted from the stone byre, which was then fixed up by the American. It was a far cry from the roaring twenties in New York. Kent though, had found exactly what he was looking for. The wild scenery and the ever changing skies over the Atlantic, provided an abundance of creative inspiration. While here, he painted some of his most famous and critically acclaimed work, most notably Annie McGinley – depicting the woman laying on her stomach as she sunbathed on Port Hill, Dan Ward’s Stack, and Sturrall. Kent’s happy and productive stay in Glenlough meant that when the next creative visitor showed up in south west Donegal, Dan Ward’s cottage came highly recommended.
Dylan Thomas, the brilliant but troubled Welsh poet/playwright, had been frogmarched to Ireland by his agent Geoffrey Grigson under doctors orders in 1935. Although a mere 20 years of age, the fledgling writer was already suffering from the effects of heavy alcohol consumption. Burned out, suffering from skin rashes, asthma and the excesses of his new found fame in the bright lights of London, he had been led to Donegal to recover from ‘the ravishes of drink’.
Dylan Thomas in 1946. The poet and playwright died seven years later, aged 39. Image: Francis Reiss/Getty Images via donegalnews.com
Grigson, stayed with Thomas for a short settling in period, before returning to London, leaving his client in peace (or so he thought) to produce some master works. Things did not go entirely to plan. Thomas was for a time content while staying alone in Dan Ward’s ad-hoc cottage studio, writing by morning and evening, and exploring the spectacular coastline in the afternoons by way of contemplative relaxation.
But the isolation, increasing boredom, and the temptation of the bottle soon got the better of him. By his own admission, as revealed in letters to trustee friends back home in Wales, his mood had quickly darkened to the extent that he was regularly haunted by twisted nightmares and self pity. He recounts a frightful night when he was haunted by ”Count Antigarlic . . . a strange Hungarian gentleman . . . coming down the hill in a cloak lined with spiders”.
Growing increasingly tormented, Dylan Thomas disappeared from Glenlough in late August 1935, leaving neither explanation nor payment for lodgings. Mr Grigson would later pick up the tab with Dan Ward, and retrace his client’s steps in a bid to determine what had come over the young poet in Donegal.
Rumor abounds regarding the time Dylan Thomas spent at Glenlough. It is thought that his regular nocturnal walks of many miles over the roadless hills to O’Donnells Pub in Meenaneary, were supplemented by a plentiful supply of local poitin. While the poems that he managed to write at Glenlough, including I, in my Intricate Image and the darkly twisted series of sonnets Altarwise by Owl Light had received moderate acclaim, they also served notice of his continued and ever more difficult battle with alcohol and ill health. Glenlough had not been as kind to Thomas as it had to Kent. The isolated cliffs and barren landscapes at Port and Glenlough had once again proven itself to be both beauty and beast.
The Wild Atlantic Way conjures images of land and sea colliding, nature as it’s most powerful, of rugged but beautiful coastlines, and peaceful remoteness. Port and Glenlough ticks all of those boxes, and much more. Better still, it is in Donegal, and as we all know, that makes it a wee bit extra special. Donegal puts the wild into the way, as evidenced by the description on Lonely Planet: ”Donegal is the wild child of Ireland’‘. Chronicles of Narnia novelist, CS Lewis, had his own word for it: ‘Donegality‘. Lewis created this word to describe the sense that there is something different about Donegal, that sets it apart from the rest of Ireland. Port and Glenlough is Donegality in the extreme. It is beautifully wild, and in local tongue: ”wild beautiful”. To discover which is wilder, you or Port and Glenlough, there is only one way to find out. Activate explorer mode.
