Cnoc Fola, or Bloody Foreland as it is more commonly known, has a real edge of the world feel to it. Located as it is, right up in the very north west tip of Donegal, Ireland, it is one of Europe’s great outposts. This broad headland stretching from Ballyness Bay to Gweedore, is famous for spectacular scenery, friendly people, magnificent sunsets, and the ferocious atlantic swells which batter its coast. It is places like Cnoc Fola which epitomize everything that is so alluring about the Wild Atlantic Way.

To get a good ocean experience in the depths of winter, you need to either plan well or just get lucky. On January 2nd 2015, I probably did both. A strong weather front had been slowly moving across Ireland for a couple of days, bringing heavy rain and high winds. I picked my moment, got on the road early, and was lucky enough to arrive at the coast when the storm’s vortex was right over Donegal, meaning I got to see big waves, in high wind, but also got the blue skies and sunshine. Perfect! When I started comprehending The Paris Method, that is exactly what I had imagined – finding a way to get to, the eye of the storm. Bright, peaceful clarity, in the midst of the maelstrom that life can sometimes throw at us.

The winter sun lighting up the Atlantic horizon off Bloody Foreland and Gweedore, Donegal, Ireland

Light is such a precious commodity in winter, especially over the holidays, when the temptation is to stay indoors more. The days are short and the weather can make it difficult to get outside for exercise and fresh air. Thankfully I was given this chance, and I took it. The bright sun light, enhancing the white foam on the breaking waves, was just beautiful. Once you have been to Cnoc Fola, you will realize the significance of light. This area is famous for it. The hills (Cnoc) turn a blood (Fola) red, when the sun is near the horizon. Sunbeams reflect off the underside of any evening clouds, illuminating the coast during the long Donegal twilight. It is a sight well worth seeing.

I drove around the headland, marveling at the ocean views, and at Cnoc Fola Lower, I parked up, and climbed down the cliffside into a semi-circular cove. I spent around an hour enjoying one of natures winter shows in this remote Atlantic amphitheater. I had worn several layers of old clothes, so was able to lay back against the grassy bank and completely relax. From down here, there is only cliffs, beach, the ocean and sky. I did however, rather unexpectedly, meet a new friend! He stayed with me as we watched the powerful Atlantic storm batter the coast in front of us. It was strangely relaxing.

Stories I had read about the harsh realities of life in this Gaeltacht region of Donegal, came to mind. Caisleáin Óir by Séamus Ó Grianna, who hailed from Rann na Feirste, tells the heartbreaking story of Séimí Phádraig Dubh and his sweetheart Babaí Mháirtí. As children they played together on the rocky Donegal coastline, and just like you might experience for yourself, they stood spellbound by the sight of one of the famous sunsets. The sunbeams cast on the approaching clouds over the horizon had painted such a remarkable sight, that Babaí had asked what it was. Séimí, with all the charm of a young man serenading his love, told her that they were Caisleáin Óir (golden castles), and that he would give them to her when they were older. Sadly, Babaí and Séimí succumbed to the same plight that met so many other young couples from the area during the 19th and early 20th century. Séimí would be forced to leave his love and their dreams, traveling overseas in an attempt to make a living. Their golden castle dream never did become a reality.

The north west coast of Donegal, Ireland. A beautiful, but at times in the past, very harsh place

The factual story I had read, was an even harsher account of life for many of the local people. The Hard Road to Klondike is the post-humous biography of Mícheál MacGowan, based on the memoirs from his travels in search of a livelihood. MacGowan first left his native Cloughaneely parish when he was just a child, sent to ‘The Lagan’ via the hiring fair in Letterkenny. Later, he would travel to Scotland on the infamous Derry Boat, where barefoot young travelers from Donegal shared passage with cattle, on their voyage to find work in Glasgow and beyond. Eventually moving onwards to America, MacGowan worked his way across the country, from the steel works in Pennsylvania, via the Montana mines, to the wilds of Alaska. Like many others, he joined in on The Gold Rush, which brought him to the harsh climate and terrain of the Yukon.

MacGowan suffered many hardships that are almost impossible to imagine today, yet despite some near death experiences, and a variety of setbacks, he was one of only 4000 people from the 100,000 who set out, who actually made it back alive with gold. This fortune was enough to take him home to Donegal, enabling him to set up home and raise a family. Many people from the west of Donegal faced the same adversity in their constant struggle to survive. Some of them never made their fortune. Others did well for themselves, but settled overseas. Today their descendants visit Donegal on their summer holidays. These recollections had taught me to be very grateful for what I have today. Life can sometimes seem tough, but sparing a thought for the poor souls of the past puts things in perspective, brings humility and gratitude.

A bright and stormy day at Cnoc Fola, Donegal, on Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Way

The winter days are short here, and evening was on its way. As the wind blew white foam out of the powerful Atlantic waves onto the beach before me, I consciously took in the magnificent setting, scanning it into my mind, knowing that I would recall it in the future. I closed my eyes and faced into the wind, feeling the full force of natures powerful elements blowing away my Christmas cobwebs, freshening me up for a new year ahead. Although it was really cold and noisy, I found great peace and perspective out there. Something about the force of the Atlantic along Donegal’s amazing coastline, helps me to become aware, focused, grateful, and calm.

The day was changing, so I said goodbye to the friendly dog, and climbed up the cliff, stopping every so often to admire the scene. This little cove on Bloody Foreland is just one of many outstandingly beautiful places on this largely unexplored part of the Wild Atlantic Way. Perhaps the best way to see it in all its glory is to fly into Donegal Airport at Carrickfinn, which is about 10 miles south of Cnoc Fola. There are a lot of things to see and do in the area, and with a flight time of only an hour from Dublin and Glasgow, the airport serves as the gateway to north west Donegal, and this very scenic coastline.

As the eye of the storm moved inland, the winds picked up, heavy clouds appeared over the horizon and the short winter day was drawing to a close. My trip to Cnoc Fola had fully refreshed my body and mind, and given me such a feeling of gratitude. I was thankful for the life that I have, and the for the beautiful county that I call home. Thankful for better times than what the people around these parts had experienced in the past.

As I drove back to Letterkenny through the Derryveagh Mountains, I paused for reflection at An Droichead an nDeor (The Bridge of Tears), where so many emigrants had left their friends and family behind. The locals walked with their departing loved ones to this remote spot between Muchish and Errigal mountains. The goodbyes, and the tears, lasted through the night until it was time to depart. For many of these families, this would be the last they would ever see of the emigrants. I was happy in so many ways that I had made the trip to Bloody Foreland. Recalling the harsh realities of past life in north west Donegal had been a thought provoking experience. I returned home full of hope, confidence and positivity for what lay ahead for me in 2015. My trip to the edge of the world had been very productive.

A journey through Donegal, on Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Way, brings an eclectic mix of experiences. A land of outstanding natural beauty collides with the might of the north Atlantic Ocean, and the result is a spectacular coastline which is ideal for many types of activities and vacations. Among the many spellbinding visual wonders, Donegal also has a mystical, thought provoking and inspiring allure.

Donegal Bay, Ireland. At peace in the late evening sunlight. Mid-December 2014

The experience I will recount, happened during the busy shopping days in the lead up to the Christmas holidays of 2014. I was feeling a little bereft of Christmas spirit. As mentioned in my bio, at that time I was still finding my feet after an accident, and was therefore a long way from where I had been the previous year. Being off work and recovering from an accident, meant that money was tight, and so, I was beginning to feel a bit like The Grinch. Self-pity mode had been activated, therefore some ‘me’ time was needed, to ensure that this feeling would not spoil the holidays.

Back then, I was still in the process of forming (or becoming aware of) the meditation technique which is today The Paris Method. Now, when I use the method, I could be on a crowded train and still manage to have a quiet moment to myself. But back then, I relied heavily on the tangible conduit of the wild Atlantic coastline in Donegal.

So, in mid-afternoon on that busy December day, I took off, leaving the crowded streets of the market town behind. As it was already well into the short December day, I needed to go south. I wasn’t sure where, but I was going south.

Following the mid-winter sun, hoping to catch a glimpse before it disappeared, I arrived on the shores of Donegal Bay. And then, I remembered someone had mentioned that they had visited a lighthouse at the end of a peninsula in this area, so I decided to find it. I’m now very grateful that I did.

Midway between Donegal Town and the cliffs at Sliabh Liag, the road weaves and dips through the village of Dunkineely, which almost stands as a gate lodge for the road to St John’s Point – a long and narrow headland sticking straight out into Donegal Bay. The road passes by the haunting ruin of McSwynes Castle, a 15th century stronghold which passed through many owners, before falling into disrepair. Marguerite at Castlemurray House across the road, will be happy to tell you the history of the area, in her beautiful boutique hotel.

Donegal Bay, Ireland, on a clear December evening in 2014. Looking towards Sliabh Liag

I stopped briefly to admire the evening views over Coral Beach, a lovely little cove on the sheltered side of the headland, which has blue flag status, meaning it is safe for swimming. These waters are also very popular for snorkeling, diving and fishing. The photo below shows Coral Beach in summer. It is a lovely place for a quiet day out on the beach.

Coral Beach, St Johns Pt, Donegal, Ireland on the Wild Atlantic Way. Image: welovedonegal.com

Onwards I went, further out into the bay, venturing over the stretch of moorland which rises up to screen the tip of the peninsula from the mainland. It was then that I saw the lighthouse sitting proudly in all of it’s glory, looking out over Donegal Bay towards the setting winter sun. It is a view that has stayed with me, and I recall it often.

St John’s Point Lighthouse, looking out over Donegal Bay, Ireland.

I walked around for a while, taking pictures, enjoying the fresh air, and admiring this very special place. As the sun neared the horizon, I ventured past the lighthouse, down onto he rocks near a small jetty. I sat down there for a period of time, and was given one of the most serene experiences that anyone could ever wish for.

The ocean was calm. There was little or no wind. Considering it was close to the winter solstice, the sky was unusually bright and clear. The reflecting light coming off the smooth waters of the bay was amazing. I closed my eyes and listened to the gentle lapping of the water against the jetty. It was just such a peaceful scene.

I practiced The Paris Method, and sat in silence, fully aware of the beauty around me at that very moment. I was completely at ease. I had moved from Grinch to gratitude. From cranky to content, and from self-pity to serenity. Time stood still. The entire world right then seemed to be at peace.

As I again slowly started to walk around the tip of the peninsula, taking pictures and videos, I reminded myself just how lucky I am to have such an amazing place to call home. I was also gratefully aware that the motivational powers of the Wild Atlantic Way in Donegal, had once again given me such peace and contentment.

The location of St John’s Point Lighthouse, sitting proudly over 7 miles out into Donegal Bay, offers many beautiful views, and symbolic perspectives. From Donegal Town to Bundoran in the east, Sligo and Mayo to the south, and beyond Killybegs, Kilcar and Teelin to Sliabh Liag and Rathlin O’Birne Island in the west, the seascapes are breathtaking. As the sun gradually disappeared over Mayo, sea fog began to creep up on Sliabh Liag. To the north, the magnificent wilderness of the Bluestack Mountains began to slowly drift out of sight.

In the cold twilight, I once again sat, looking towards south Donegal and Sligo. Benbulben, the majestic and iconic mountain which presides over that stretch of coastline was silhouetted on the last of the amber evening sky. I thought about her most famous son, Ireland’s first Nobel laureate, Sligo poet William Butler Yeats. What is probably his most celebrated poem came to mind:

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;

Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,

And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

 

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,

Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;

There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,

And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

 

I will arise and go now, for always night and day

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;

While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,

I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

In The Lake Isle of Innisfree , WB Yeats is apparently using the romantic dream of escaping to a peaceful and remote place, to lift his spirits as he makes his way through the busy streets of a 19th century city. The Atlantic on that December evening was as peaceful as the Lough Gill waters, where in Yeats dream he would build his wattle cabin. I realized that Yeats romantic dream from 1890, which he kept with him in his heart everywhere he went, could also apply to my use of The Paris Method.

I cannot always rely on having the time or means to take off and chase the sunset to beautiful locations in search of peace. As much as I love the Donegal shore, I cannot always be here. I need to be able to recreate the images and the peace they give me while I walk the busy streets of life. As I turned to leave, I wondered if Yeats had been to St John’s Point on an evening such as this. I’m sure he had.

As I started the car, the radio turned on. An Irish evening talk-show host and his guest were discussing the issue of men being less willing to discuss their emotions and feelings. It occurred to me that perhaps many men would indeed be willing to discuss their feelings, but are probably not overly comfortable with the response it would receive. Asking for full disclosure is all very well and good, but understanding and accepting it is another matter entirely.

Turning the radio off, I smiled and became busy with my own positive thoughts and plans concerning this blog, and the things that I will write about. As the last of the light faded, I began my northward journey home. Another Yeats poem came to mind in this ”night and light and the half light”.

I hope The Paris Method can give you as much as it has given me. I am doing this for the silent men. On their behalf, I remember Yeats lines …

I would spread the cloths under your feet:

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

Donegal Bay, Ireland, in the ”Night and light, and the half light”

It is the stuff that dreams are made of. Literally! Donegal, on Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Way, now offers visitors the chance to sleep in a world famous, 200 year old lighthouse. ‘Land Ahoy!! – Fanad is open for business.’

The iconic Fanad Lighthouse in Donegal, Ireland. Sleep in a 200 year old lighthouse on the Wild Atlantic Way!

When it was completed in 1817, the sole purpose of Fanad Lighthouse was to keep people away from the trecherous rocks at the mouth of Lough Swilly. Now the iconic tower is inverting that purpose; luring visitors from all over the world. Having been handed back to the local community by Irish Lights, Inter-Reg funding was secured and Fanad Lighthouse is now well on it’s way to becoming the shining light on the Wild Atlantic Way.

Three homely accommodations are available; ranging from the cozy and romantic Dunree View, with it’s wood burning stove, to the country-styled Tory Island View which includes a queen-sized bed. A stone-flagged patio offers a fantastic location for summer sunset barbecues or panoramic coffee mornings.

Fanad Lighthouse, Donegal, Ireland, on a stormy day on the Wild Atlantic Way.

Just picture the scene. You could spend your days strolling along Ballymastocker beach (which was once voted the 2nd most beautiful beach in the world). Or playing a round at the majestic Portsalon Golf Club. Or marveling at Great Pollet Sea Arch, taking surf lessons or a fishing trip, or generally exploring the many beaches and attractions on the Fanad Peninsula. As the evening closes in, you get drawn back to your dream cottage by the sea, like a moth to a streetlamp. After dinner and a nightcap its lights out – and lights on.

In the afterglow of what can often be a spectacular sunset over the Atlantic, you can cast your gaze northwards, watching out for an Aurora Borealis display. They have been known to be quite impressive up in these parts. North Donegal is a great place to star-gaze. The Milky Way is often in clear view too, as shown in the image below, taken by Joe Langan in August 2015. But now, it is the moment that you have been waiting for – it is bed time in 200 year old Fanad Lighthouse, on the Wild Atlantic Way.

All The Way! Bedtime under the Milky Way, on the Wild Atlantic Way. Fanad Lighthouse, Donegal, Ireland. Image Credit: Joe Langan

After you have stoked the open fire to bring a warming flicker to the room, imagine drifting off to sleep, soothed by the sound of the Atlantic waves breaking on the rocks at the lighthouse foundations. All under the mesmeric reflections of the rotating beam overhead. The fresh air and exercise from your daytime adventures, coupled with the hypnotic sights and sounds, will send you into a deep peaceful sleep. It is time to live that dream.

Allow yourself to drift off aboard your pirate ship, sailing two miles due north in search of lost treasure at The Laurentic site. En route from Liverpool to Halifax Nova Scotia during World War 1, the armed merchant cruiser was hit by 2 German mines and went down with the loss of 354 men. The Laurentic had been carrying a secret cargo of 3,211 gold bars, worth a cool $450 million in todays money. By the mid 1930’s most of the bullion had been recovered. All with the exception of 22 gold bars, which are said to be awaiting discovery on the sea bed, within sight of Fanad Lighthouse. A dream payday of $3m should help you sleep easy.

The sound of the ocean lapping the lighthouse, may guide your dream towards that perfect wave you have always wanted to surf. Donegal is a fantastic surf location, and lessons are available at many of the great locations nearby. Or maybe a sea-kayaking adventure, as you search for local fairies or smugglers in the many coastal caves of this rugged coastline. Perhaps you will dream of rowing out to meet the killer whales, basking sharks and friendly dolphins, which have been spotted in this area.

Speaking of Jaws, horror movie fans may get subconsciously transported via their dreams to Point Reyes lighthouse in California, where many of the scenes for John Carpenter’s 1980 movie The Fog were shot. Or to Shutter Island where you join Leonardo di Caprio in hearing his fate at the lighthouse. The more romantically inclined may meet him in their Titanic dream. You might also spare a melancholic thought for the reliable lighthouse keeper of long ago, who was here on his own, on stormy nights, with his supply of paraffin and an eagle eye. He and other heroes like him had many lives in their hands.

The more adventurous visitor could try to time their stay to coincide with one of the many Atlantic storms which batter the Donegal coast every winter. The big waves just off the lighthouse can hit some dizzying heights, and in the right (or wrong) storm, send spray against the panes of glass in your bedroom window.

More likely, given this idyllic location, your dreams will be tranquil, consisting of happy beach days spent walking barefoot by the waters edge, gathering shells and star fish, of picnics and sandcastles. Poetic license may even allow you to meet a Donegal seahorse or mermaid. Whatever it is that you dream of, you can now dream it in Fanad Lighthouse.

Awakening fully refreshed  and motivated, you might take up the opportunity of climbing the 79 steps to edge yourself out onto the suspended platform which surrounds the base of the light – 150 feet above the ocean. From up here, the views over the North Donegal coastline and the Atlantic Ocean beyond, will leave you spell-bound. Selfie sticks at the ready!

The Fanad Lighthouse renaissance, when complete, will include accommodation, access to the tower, guided tours, tea-rooms, a visitor’s center and increased car parking space. There will also of course be an abundance of information available relating to this richly historic and naturally beautiful area.

For 200 years, Fanad Lighthouse has been an iconic image in North Donegal, and for miles out to sea. Now it’s powerful beam is reaching the 4 corners of the world, penetrating dreams, luring visitors to the North Atlantic, where the wild gets put in the way. Fanad is now also a quirkily outstanding new attraction on the Wild Atlantic Way. For many it will be a dream come true. Sleeping in a 200 year old Irish lighthouse will be high up on a lot of bucket lists. What was once a danger averting tower, is now a dreamy lullaby projector. This, is the world’s first dream-inspiring lighthouse.

Sweet dreams!

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.

Annie McGinley by Rockwell Kent. Image source: port-donegal.com

Sturrall by Rockwell Kent. Image source: www.hermitageshop.org

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.

There is a beautiful feeling of serenity at the spectacular former Incan city of Machu Picchu. The long road through the Andes to this remote paradise is not so well acclaimed, but is also very special. This is a journey unlike any you will ever have undertaken before, and it will stay with you forever. Getting to the jewel of the Sacred Valley can be costly and time consuming, but it is a journey which is to be enjoyed rather than endured. This is my 6-part travelogue, revealing the highlights of the road to Machu Picchu, including Ollantaytambo.

Ollantaytambo to Aguas Calientes

While the small but busy Sacred Valley town of Ollantaytambo is attractive on it’s own merits, with Inca ruins and riverside setting, one amenity above all others attracts many of the visitors who pass through here; the train station.

Unless you were to go off-grid and (attempt to) hike over the towering Andes mountains, there is but one way to get to Machu Picchu; by first making the journey from Ollantaytambo to Aquas Calientes by train. Considering that up to 5,000 visitors filter through Machu Picchu on a busy day, Ollantaytambo is a very busy little place. The entire town is like a cross between a mini Machu Picchu, a souvenir shop, a cargo hanger and a travel rep’s office. Everybody, and everything that goes to Machu Picchu, must pass through here – including all food and provisions for Aguas Calientes.

We had arrived into the Sacred Valley by taxi from Cusco with just over 20 minutes to spare before our pre-booked train departure time. The road to the station, the limited drop-off point and the platform were crowded with tourists, bags, craft stalls, travel guides, goods transportation and train workers. It was a huge relief to finally board the train and find a seat. Around two minutes later, the whistle blew, and we were off!

Onboard the Inca Rail train

We were on board a train operated by Inca Rail, which had large carriage windows supplemented by overhead skylights. We were soon to discover why the rail company had the foresight to include the additional glass. As soon as we moved from the platform, we were immediately in the middle of a scenic river valley, the likes of which I have never seen before. On one side of the train, the fast flowing waters of the Urubamba River race right by the tracks, and on the other side, the tiny patchwork of fields very quickly give way to the sometimes almost vertical walls of The Sacred Valley. The views are simply spectacular.

Train from Ollantaytambo to Aguas Calientes

The tree-lined Urubamba River Valley

Everyone in our carriage was mesmerized by the passing scenery. Everyone that is except for a Brazilian tourist who was sitting on the opposite side of the table from me. Having seen my Tottenham Hotspur shirt, he was determined to strike up a soccer centered conversation. So much so, that he proceeded to lay the shirt of his preferred team out on the table, and insist that I photograph it, with said Brazilian beaming in the background. I obliged, and quickly returned to admiring the views. I love Tottenham, and soccer, but these views were too amazing to miss!

My Brazilian soccer friend

The train ride takes approximately 90 minutes, with the return leg lasting a full 2 hours. The additional 30 minutes can be accounted for by the fact that this is the Andes, and even though the train line is on what you would think is a relatively flat bed, Peruvian logic still holds true: when you are traveling you are either going uphill or downhill. We were currently moving downhill, following the banks of the Urubamba River. I tried to imagine how powerful the force of this water must be when the river is in flood.

I get a lot of thought stimulation from water, which I think is a welcome byproduct of my love of the ocean, waves and rugged coastlines. I see symbolism in water, and it really helps me to become aware of the present moment. So it occurred to me, that this part of the river valley would often suddenly experience a raging torrent, even if it had not rained in this particular section. The flood would quickly arrive from upstream. I reasoned that in life, the same scenario can occur. In a butterfly effect, even if we are serene and calm ourselves, someone else’s actions can send a sudden and unexpected torrent our way. Just as the people in The Sacred Valley have strategically placed boulders by the banks while the water was low, preparing in advance of the flood, we too can brace ourselves by building strong defenses when there is calmness. Knowing ourselves, and understanding our reactions is one of the keys to wellbeing. Often, our troubles can come not from our own actions, but from our reaction to someone else’s action. At that moment, upon such a realization, I felt completely at peace. Somehow, the Urubamba River had shown me how to be focused and aware, how to enjoy this moment, yet to use this peaceful time to ensure that I would completely enjoy Machu Picchu.

Traveling by train deep into the wilderness

The sides of the valley are as fascinating as the river itself. Having approached from Cusco, we had traversed agricultural uplands. But now we had entered into a region of Peru which has more in common with the Amazonian jungle terrain on the other side of the Andes. The steep walls of the valley are almost completely covered with tress, resulting in the sharpest gradient of leafy canopy imaginable. Sporadic clouds hover overhead; high above the train, yet still a long way beneath the snow capped peaks of the surrounding mountain range.

Inca Rail en route to Machu Picchu

Down and around we went, steadily venturing deeper and deeper into the very heart of this timeless terrain, moving further away from the busy world. I pondered what this journey must have been like in previous centuries. It is little wonder that Machu Picchu remained unseen during the Spanish Conquistador’s foray into this region of South America. The valley walls are impossibly steep. In the days before planes and railways, even if for some reason the Spanish had decided to trek all the way along this bank, or raft down the river itself, Machu Picchu would not have revealed itself. The walls supporting the Inca city look just like the walls all along the entire journey. Furthermore, the terraced nature of Machu Picchu’s construction means that from up high, the river is clearly visible, but from the depths of the river valley looking upwards, Machu Picchu, blends into the wilderness like a chameleon.

Small potato field by the rail track

Even Hiram Bingham, the inquisitive American academic who finally discovered Machu Picchu and revealed it’s secret’s to the world in 1911, was apparently only able to do so having first being given guidance by indigenous farmers. The topography along the train road from Ollantaytambo to Aguas Calientes, gives a strong demonstration of just how well the Inca’s chose this now famous, but once hidden treasure.

Table service onboard Inca Rail

In a world apart from Bingham’s original travel experience, we meandered effortlessly down the valley while comfortably sitting on leather upholstered seats, availing of table service, affording us the opportunity to fully marvel at this unique adventure. The train ride perfectly sets the tone for a visit to Machu Picchu. You cannot help but dream of hidden worlds and lost treasures. The clickety-clack of the train passing over the sleeps and the amazing scenery seemed to cast a mystical spell over all on board.  Time seemed to both stand still, yet pass by too quickly.

There is little in the landscape to signal the approach to the end of the line at Aguas Calientes. The town clings tightly to steep ground which is much like the rest of the valley. As the train slowed on approach, I looked through the open window to survey what lay ahead. A simple but distinctive grass roofed cafe greeted our arrival at this quaint, busy, yet very welcoming station and town. As the train finally came to a stop, my emotions were happiness, excitement and relief. I had arrived!

Distinctive grass roofed cafe at the station

Much like my fellow European explorers several centuries before me, I still had no idea where Machu Picchu was. But I knew I was close. So close now in fact, that the list of possible yet unlikely events which could have derailed this amazing trip, had now shortened considerably.

Stepping from the train onto the Aguas Calientes platform, you do so in the knowledge that you are now only one night’s sleep and a short, but ultimately very steep, bus ride away from one of the most beautiful places in the whole world. Gratitude now prevailed.

Have you read the other posts in this series?

Part 1: Arequipa

Part 2: Arequipa to Cusco

Part 3: Cusco

Part 4: Cusco to Ollantaytambo

Part 6: Aguas Calientes (Machu Picchu Pueblo)

There is a beautiful feeling of serenity at the spectacular former Incan city of Machu Picchu. The long road through the Andes to this remote paradise is not so well acclaimed, but is also very special. This is a journey unlike any you will ever have undertaken before, and it will stay with you forever. Getting to the jewel of the Sacred Valley can be costly and time consuming, but it is a journey which is to be enjoyed rather than endured. This is my 6-part travelogue, revealing the highlights of the road to Machu Picchu, including Chinchero.

Machu Picchu – One of the most beautiful places in the world

Cusco to Ollantaytambo

The anticipation and excitement ahead of the onward journey to Machu Picchu is probably the only thing that softens the disappointment you feel when it is time to leave Cusco. The capital of the Andes has a strong magnetic lure, and leaves you wanting more. But it was time to leave, and head further north. Further into the Andes. And closer still to Machu Picchu.

The journey from Cusco to the wonderfully named Sacred Valley town of Ollantaytambo takes approximately 90 minutes. Although the city stands at over 11,500ft, and Machu Picchu is at a lower altitude, the road ascends further on the first section of the trip. This is because Ollantaytambo, and The Sacred Valley are on the other side of a vast upland plateau which must be traversed. From the centre of Cusco, the road corkscrews up through some of the city’s poorest neighborhoods, notably Los Huertos and Chanachayoc, where stereotypical South American shanty huts cling to the steep hillside.

Young woman in poorer district of northern Cusco, Peru

Selling bananas on the street at Los Huertos, Cusco, Peru

Woman in Chanachayoc District of Cusco, Peru

After tipping over the top of the mountain, the road then descends for several miles, before eventually flattening out as it crosses the magnificent Anta Plateau. This is home to some of Peru’s finest agricultural lands.

The town of Chinchero, at an altitude of 14,500 feet, is of particular interest, for it is here that a window into South America’s ancient past can be seen. The town’s 15,000 strong population, their language and culture, are almost entirely of Quechuan descent, which predates the Spanish conquistadors, and even the Incan empire. The townspeople can still be seen wearing traditional attire, and the area is noted for it’s self sufficiency and handmade arts and craft markets. There are also many Incan sites in the locality which are of great cultural significance.

The road through Chinchero district, near Cusco, Peru

Two ladies in traditional attire, waiting for a bus at Chinchero, near the city of Cusco in Peru.

Having lost a day on the trip due to being stuck in snow at high altitude en route from Arequipa, my tour guide had arranged for a taxi to take us on this journey as opposed to the tour bus as originally planned. As with many of the aspects of the trip, the contingency plan actually turned out to be a blessing in disguise, because we now had not only a driver, but a personal guide. The taxi driver, an amicable man called Aurturo, had great pride in his home region and was happy to discuss the points of interest along the route.

After telling me about all of the traditional culture in Chinchero, Aurturo then told me that the adjacent plateau is the site of a planned new international airport which will completely open up the area to yet more tourists. By 2025 people living near a major airport will be able to fly to within an hour of Machu Picchu and The Sacred Valley. We had a constructive debate about the merits of this development.

The agricultural plateau near Chinchero, soon to be home to Cusco International Airport

There is no doubt that the huge new international airport will bring more tourists to Machu Picchu, and create business opportunities for locals. But it will also dilute the ancient and unique ambience of Chinchero, filter people away from Cusco, put Machu Picchu itself under logistical strain and deprive visitors such as myself of seeing the beautiful panoramas on the more remote roads through the Andes.

Sill, progress is progress. Aurturo welcomed the news, but later admitted that this opinion was from a business perspective. He revealed that he may have plans to operate a private bus company to engage with the expected international tour operators. The airport project is being funded mostly by German and Brazilian venture capitalists. In truth, while progress is to be welcomed, I felt sad that Chinchero, one of the last fully authentic towns in the area, may soon be transformed in the name of globalization and mass tourism.

Arriving in The Sacred Valley, in the Andes Mountain range Peru en route to Machu Picchu

Having crossed the massive plateau, we finally came within sight of the Sacred Valley, and began the hair-raising descent through a series of corkscrews into Urubamba, the town which shares it’s name with the river which flows through the valley in the direction of Machu Picchu. The last leg of the trip, was to follow the river northwards for several miles to the small but bustling town of Ollantaytambo, where along with many other backpackers and tourists, we would take the iconic train journey to Aquas Calientes. By now, the excitement of approaching Machu Picchu was making it almost impossible to fully enjoy the surroundings along the route.

Have you read the other posts in this series?

Part 1: Arequipa

Part 2: Arequipa to Cusco

Part 3: Cusco

Part 5: Ollantaytambo to Aquas Calientes

Part 6: Aguas Calientes (Machu Picchu Pueblo)

There is a beautiful feeling of serenity at the spectacular former Incan city of Machu Picchu. The long road through the Andes to this remote paradise is not so well acclaimed, but is also very special. This is a journey unlike any you will ever have undertaken before, and it will stay with you forever. Getting to the jewel of the Sacred Valley can be costly and time consuming, but it is a journey which is to be enjoyed rather than endured. This is my 6-part travelogue, revealing the highlights of the road to Machu Picchu, including Cusco.

Machu Picchu – One of the most beautiful places in the world

Cusco

Often referred to as the cultural and architectural capital of South America, Cusco was the capital of the former Inca empire, and in more recent times has been declared a UNESCO World Heritage site, attracting over 2 million visitors per year.

Sitting at almost 11,500 feet, this cosmopolitan capital of the Andes serves as the epicenter of Inca tourism. Any trip to Machu Picchu, The Sacred Valley and The Inca Trail, will include at least a passing visit to Cusco.

Having lost a day owing to being stuck in snow en route at 14,000 feet, I had only a few hours to catch a glimpse of Cusco. I arrived after sun down, and immediately took a stroll around the obvious first port of call: the Plaza de Armas. I was greeted by a statue in honor of Pachacuti, the Inca emperor for whom apparently, Machu Picchu was constructed as an Andean sanctuary.

Statue of Inca Emperor Pachacuti

I did not get much further before having to buy a chullo (traditional Peruvian hat with tassels, which made from the wool of the alpaca). I had come from the warmer climes of Arequipa in the south, and although I had gone through a snowstorm en route, the cooler temperature and rain in Cusco were something of a shock. The weather at this altitude can be unpredictable, so I would advise anyone visiting the area to prepare for four seasons.

My nocturnal ramble through the cobbled streets of old town Cusco was cut short by even heavier rain, and I made my way back to the Hotel del Inca, stopping along the way with a street vendor to buy some hot herbal tea. This brew of cocoa leafs fused with various local herbs is used for acclimatization to the altitude, and as a general health supplement. It certainly warmed me up, and possibly helped in preventing altitude sickness, but I remain skeptical about recommending it. Although the beverage is popular in South America, I have since learned that it is not legal outside of the continent owing to the raw cocoa element. Who knew.

Back at the hotel I climbed under what seemed like far too many woolen blankets, and fell into one of the best sleeps I’ve had in years. I don’t often remember dreams, but that night I dreamt that I was hiking through the Andes, discovering ancient ruins unseen by modern man. Maybe the herbal brew had some impact after all.

I awoke the following morning feeling very well rested. Pulling back the curtains, I discovered the nice surprise of seeing a beautiful view out over the neighboring rooftops to the Andes Mountains in the background. Something about that panorama made me stop and appreciate the marvelous journey that I was undertaking. I stayed with that moment, and also practiced The Paris Method, and it really set me up for a great day.

Panoramic view from the hotel room in Cusco, Peru

After breakfast I went back to the Plaza de Armas, and visited the Cathedral Basilica of the Assumption of the Virgin. After almost 100 years under construction, this gothic-renaissance church was finally completed in 1654, and today not only serves as a place of worship, but as a museum for local Incan artifacts and as an art gallery. It is very well worth a visit. Just be careful not to use your camera inside, as there is a strictly enforced no-photography policy for some reason.

The old Cathedral at Plaza de Armas, Cusco, Peru

Just across the Plaza de Armas is the National University of Saint Anthony the Abbot. The notion of the university was proposed by Pope Innocent XII, supported by Spain’s King Charles II. It was eventually established in 1692 just decades after the Conquistadors had beaten the Inca’s following the Siege of Cusco. These days the university has 29 academic departments, 37 professor chairs, and amongst other disciplines, has been to the fore of research and documentation of the ancient cultures of the area, and the Andes in general.

Cobbled streets around the Plaza de Armas, Cusco, Peru

The courtyard in the National University, Cusco, Peru

My time in Cusco was unfortunately too short, but it has left me with a strong desire to return and explore the city further. It would be no stretch of the imagination to suggest that you could spend a week based in Cusco and still not see everything the city and surroundings have to offer. For now though, it was time to leave, and edge closer to Machu Picchu.

Have you read the other posts in this series?

Part 1: Arequipa

Part 2: Arequipa to Cusco

Part 4: Cusco to Ollantaytambo

Part 5: Ollantaytambo to Aquas Calientes

Part 6: Aguas Calientes (Machu Picchu Pueblo)

I have spent the past few days wondering if the name of this blog is appropriate, but have now decided to proceed as planned.

For some time now, I have been quietly preparing content for my book and blog, both entitled The Paris Method™. I have not as yet made either public, choosing instead to generate ample content prior to unveiling my work.

Late in the evening of Friday November 13th, I had been watching the international soccer match between Bosnia Herzegovina and the Republic of Ireland. Just after the final whistle, news began to filter through of the emerging terror attacks in the French capital Paris.

Like most people, I followed television news networks and social media as the full extent of the horrifying and unprecedented attacks emerged. In the early hours of Saturday morning I went to bed in sombre mood.

Upon awakening late the following morning, it occurred to me that the naming convention for my blog may now be inappropriate. Paris, for so long synonymous with love and romance, culture and civilization, may now also have a very different connotation.

However, having taken a few days to consider this, I have decided to proceed with The Paris Method™ name. Life changes and evolves, sometimes shocking and disgusting us. There are times when we will want to turn our faces away from life’s uglier events. But, in the spirit of staying true to ourselves and to our convictions, we should not change our own being due to the evil actions of others.

We may have to live on life’s terms, and that life can sometimes be frighteningly cruel, but if anything, that should only make us all the more convinced that we believe in ourselves and in the overall good in the world. The Paris Method™ will remain as the name for my book and this blog. I have decided this for myself, and to show solidarity with my many French friends. C’est la Vie, et C’est The Paris Method™.

Donegal has for a long time been the poor relation among the counties of Ireland’s western sea-board in terms of tourism revenue. Be it as a consequence of peripheral remoteness, lack of infrastructure, geographic proximity to the formerly troubled Northern Ireland, or simply due to a lack of marketing, Donegal has been lagging behind its southern counterparts. However, the ‘forgotten county’ may soon be seen and appreciated by millions of people around the world, if the new Wild Atlantic Way signs have their intended impact.

Fáilte Ireland, is to be highly commended for its vision and marketing prowess when conceiving the Wild Atlantic Way brand. Linking Ireland’s most northerly point at Malin Head to the Old Head of Kinsale in the south, via the entire Atlantic coastline, has been a master stroke. The points of interest, hidden gems and seaside towns along the route have since seen a year on year increase of 10%  in overseas visitors.

While Westport, Galway, the Cliffs of Moher, the Burren and Killarney have traditionally been magnetic tourist hubs, the Wild Atlantic Way aims to get the more adventurous holiday-maker out along the entire west coast of Ireland.

The first wave (pardon the pun) of rollouts from the Wild Atlantic Way project were the updated road signs which help to guide visitors along the meandering highways and byways. The next project milestone was the marketing blast. Fáilte Ireland was very specific regarding their target audience, with huge campaigns launched in North America and Europe, where there is already a palate for Irish vacations. There have also been escorted promotional tours for Asian journalists and bloggers, who have since brought the Wild Atlantic Way into the hearts of millions of potential visitors from newer markets.

By mid-summer 2015 the landmarks themselves received their first aesthetic upgrade, with the erection of unique identification signs. There has been some criticism regarding their visual protrusion. Any protrusion however, is owing more to marketing strategy than design flaw.

The boxed metal signs which incorporate the Wild Atlantic Way logo and the name of each landmark, really do scream out to the visitor: ‘Hey! Photograph me! Show your friends where you have been, and collect photos of the many other signs too!’

This is really clever marketing by Fáilte Ireland. They are using the actual product to market itself. It encourages visitors to capture the names of the places in their photographs, giving the places a very definite identity, a link to a successful brand, and they encourage the visitor to collect photographs at the other locations too. There is no need to ‘check in’ photographs, as this is not so much about digital tagging. It is physical tagging. These tourist photos will be seen by millions, and the name of the place is right there in the shot. Also, for the tourist, the lure of the signs is a bit like football stickers; if a kid gets a few then he wants them all. From this point onwards, you won’t just visit Westport or the Cliffs of Moher, you will visit a single point on the Wild Atlantic Way.

This connection between the unique places and an overall brand is of particular benefit to Donegal. The Cliffs of Moher currently attracts over a million visitors per annum. The other tourist hubs of the west bring that number higher still. If only a fraction of those tourists become aware of Donegal’s undoubted natural beauty and many attractions as a result of the identification signs, then suddenly there is a captive audience. For marketeers, having a captive audience as the result of state sponsored advertising is like shooting fish in a barrel. If 1 million people like to visit the Cliffs of Moher in a year, then selling other cliffs under the same brand should not be problematic.

The spectacular sea cliffs at Sliabh Liag, which are among the highest in Europe, are an obvious attraction. Banba’s Crown at Malin Head has natural beauty combined with the distinction of being Ireland’s most northerly point. Fanad Lighthouse now offers tourist accommodation and the prospect of climbing to the top of the lighthouse itself, where the panoramic views are among the finest on the Wild Atlantic Way.

Fanad Lighthouse, in north Donegal

Lighthouse at St John’s Point

St John’s Point, which remarkably juts 7 miles out into Donegal Bay, Rathlin O’Birne Island just beyond Sliabh Liag, Inishtrahull Island off Malin Head and the quaint seaside at Stroove all have picturesque lighthouses which are well worth exploring.

Donegal is famed for the many outstanding beaches on its staggering 772-mile coastline. Blue Flag beaches are to be found at the ‘back strand’ in Falcarragh, the shorefronts of Buncranna and Bundoran, at Coral Beach on St Johns Point, at Dooey near Lettermacaward, in Downings, Fintra Beach near Killybegs, Five-Finger Strand (which is home to the largest sand dunes in Europe), the beach near singer Daniel O’Donnell’s home in Kincasslagh, at Kinnagoe Bay where some of the Spanish armada washed ashore, Magheroarty Beach where you can catch the ferry to Tory Island, Murvagh, Pollan Bay near Ballylifin, the surfers’ paradise at Rossnowlagh and at Tra na Rosann.

Ballymastocker Bay near Portsalon, was voted the 2nd most beautiful beach in…wait for it…THE WORLD! Yes you read that right. Ballymastocker was bettered only by a beach in the Seychelles. To put the other beaches of Donegal in perspective, many local folk would not even consider Ballymastocker the most beautiful beach in Donegal! That gives a good indication as to the calibre of beach in the county.

With at least 25 further top quality beaches, among them Bunbeg – home to the iconic Bád Eddie which appeared in a music video by U2’s Bono and Clannad  (1.5 million views on youTube). Donegal has arguably the finest stretch of coastline in all of Europe for diverse, naturally beautiful and unspoiled beaches.

The real beauty is that on any given day, you will have them all to yourself. Indeed, Donegal man William Holmes is so impressed by the splendid remoteness of Tramore, to the west of Dunfanaghy, that he has renamed it ‘Solitude’. Access to this heavenly beach requires a peaceful 1.5 mile trek through forrest and over some of the most expansive sand dunes in Ireland.

Donegal also sits at the top table in terms of golf courses. Murvagh, Naran and Portnoo, Rosapenna, Portsalon and Ballylifen are undoubtedly world-class links courses, and the region also includes some fine parkland courses; notably Barnhill in Letterkenny.

If this wasn’t enough, you can venture further off the beaten track to find some of the most amazing coastal locations that you will ever visit, such as Port and Glenlough, with its barren and breathtaking cliffs, stacks, caves and sea arches. Should the coastline leave you overawed, you can venture inland to the wonderful Glenveagh National Park, climb Mount Errigal, or take a shopping day in Letterkenny which was voted Ireland’s Tidiest Town in 2015. The lovely village of Fintown, where the Foyle and Finn sources are found, snuggles into the northwest face of the Bluestack Mountains, and offers a chilled-out train ride along the serene Lough Finn.

Further up in the Bluestacks, Lough Belshade, one of the most untouched places in all of Ireland, offers the more adventurous campers the chance to really get out into the wild. The Poisoned Glen in Dunlewey is another geological marvel. Best seen from the summit of Errigal, Poison Glen, or Heavenly Glen (take your pick depending on a one letter variation in the Gaelige name ‘An Gleann Neamhe’) is steeped in fairytale and folklore, and even has its own resident ghost – The Green Lady. Geologically, this glen, is a fine example of a glacial corrie (or cirque). In fact, most of Donegal is of geological interest, with many of the area’s mountains and valleys cut from the same retreating glaciers that shaped the Scottish Highlands. There are several examples of raised beach systems which act as a museum on Ireland’s tectonic timeline.

Perhaps history is your special interest. If so, then the 6th century home of the Gaelic Kings at Grianan of Aileach will fascinate you, as will Rathmullan – scene of the flight of the earls in 1607. Kilclooney Megalithic Tomb, near the bustling town of Ardara, is one of the finest such examples in Ireland. Beltany Stone Circle in Raphoe is believed to be two and a half thousand years old. The county is also richly populated by castles and forts, for example Doon Fort, which is built upon a clearly defined crannóg on Lough Doon,and is 4000 years old.

So why, you may ask, is this wonderfully beautiful, unique and welcoming county not on the bucket list of every visitor to Ireland? Well, the term ‘forgotten county’ refers to Donegal’s position on the island, and to the subsequent political and social isolation which occurred after the Republic of Ireland emerged from the fallout of the War of Independence and the Civil War. Donegal is bordered mostly by Northern Ireland, sharing only a 10 mile connection with the rest of Republic of Ireland, and is more than 40 miles from its nearest provincial Republic of Ireland neighbor. Donegal has approximately 3 times as much border with the Atlantic than it has with the rest of Ireland. (hence the county has so much potential as a Wild Atlantic Way destination). Donegal’s social, economic, political and geographical position is a complex subject, and is perhaps better explained by viewing a map.

Letterkenny, marking Donegal’s place on the map. Note the tiny border Donegal shares with the rest of the Republic of Ireland en route to Sligo, and the county’s long Atlantic coastline.

During The Troubles, Donegal suffered greatly due to the hesitancy of many people to venture near the border. Were it not for the sporadic trading upturns as a result of a favorable currency exchange rate against Sterling, things would have been much worse. Donegal is now a fashionable getaway location for many people from Northern Ireland, with the towns of Buncranna, Bundoran, Letterkenny and Dunfanaghy benefiting in particular. But overall, the county has a very different tourism demographic and history compared to its southern compatriots.

A large percentage of the overseas visitors who do come, are actually returning Donegal emigrants. These are the people who have for decades been forced to leave their beautiful home due to economic stagnation, when ironically, actual real tourism could have helped towards keeping them at home.

Traditionally, the overseas tourists who journey along Ireland’s west coast, and often as far as Donegal Town and Sliabh Liag, stop short of continuing their adventure through to the beautiful peninsulas of north Donegal. In many local peoples eyes, this is akin to visiting Las Vegas, and not going the extra little bit to see the Grand Canyon.

When the Wild Atlantic Way was launched, many people in Donegal, especially business owners, were optimistic regarding the prospects of finally getting to take their rightful place on the tourist trail. As outlined above, the area has so much to offer the visitor. The product is there. Donegal is renowned for its friendly people. Visitors to ‘the hills’ probably receive a few more than the usual ‘cead mile failte’  that the rest of Ireland is famed for.

With the arrival of the identification markers and the internet and social media marketing which will follow, Donegal may finally be seen by more overseas tourists. While debate regarding the best locations on the Wild Atlantic Way is subjective, it is certainly the case that when all of the pictures of the new landmark signs are shared and viewed by millions of people around the world, Donegal can certainly stand tall and proud. Thanks to the Wild Atlantic Way, the signs may be good for Donegal at last.

There is a beautiful feeling of serenity at the spectacular former Incan city of Machu Picchu. The long road through the Andes to this remote paradise is not so well acclaimed, but is also very special. This is a journey unlike any you will ever have undertaken before, and it will stay with you forever. Getting to the jewel of the Sacred Valley can be costly and time consuming, but it is a journey which is to be enjoyed rather than endured. This is my 6-part travelogue, revealing the highlights of the road to Machu Picchu, including Arequipa.

Machu Picchu – One of the most beautiful places in the world

Arequipa

From my home in Letterkenny, County Donegal, Ireland, I had taken a bus to Dublin Airport, an Aer Lingus flight over the Atlantic Ocean to New York City, a subway train to rest up in central Queens (albeit for 2 months!), a taxi ride back to JFK Airport to board the overnight LAN flight to Lima, and a connecting LAN flight to the city of Arequipa in southern Peru.

Arequipa is a little bit off most people’s tourist trail, but is very well worth a visit. Other Peruvians joke that to live in Arequipa you need a different passport! This capital of the south, with an elevation of over 7,600 feet, has a proud reputation for some of the best cuisine, music, art and culture in all of Peru.

You completely forget that you are at such an altitude, but it is this elevation, latitude and the strategic position between the Pacific Ocean and the Andes which gives Arequipa a relatively constant climate. The days are comfortably warm and sunny, while the nights are much cooler, with wonderfully clear skies.

Where the terrain in this upland arid region allows, there is a superb year-round supply of fresh fruit and vegetables. As an Irishman who is somewhat critical of potato quality in other parts of the world I have to say the local produce in Arequipa is delicious!

The name Arequipa is thought to stem from either the Aymara Indian words ‘Ari’ (summit), and Quipa: (laying behind), or the immortal words of visiting Inca Mayta Capac, who upon discovering the settlement and admiring the beauty of the area and it’s prominence as a potential Inca city between the Pacific Ocean and Cusco, uttered the words ‘”Ari, quipay!” translated as “Yes, stay!”. Either or both possible sources of the current name seem quite apt.

There is less ambiguity regarding the origins of the nickname ‘The White City’. Arequipa’s impressive array of historic baroque buildings, most notably around La Plaza Mayor, which is also known as Plaza de Armas (as are all central plaza’s in Peru) are constructed from sillar; the unique type of whitish volcanic rock found in the area.

Having been almost completely destroyed by powerful earthquakes and volcanic eruptions in 1600, 1687 and 1868, the city has always re-emerged from the very rocks which both solidify and threaten its foundations, each time coming back stronger and more proudly determined. One such reincarnation, which was made official on August 15th 1540 is celebrated with great pride as the city’s anniversary. This includes a week long fiesta of song, dance, fireworks and general merriment.

Arequipa has served as a pre-Incan Native Indian settlement, an Incan city of great geographical significance, a Spanish colonial stronghold, capital of Peru (1835-1883) and always as both an administrative district for industry and trade and as a cultural center.

There is much to see in this beautiful city, and the extended region, with the shrine of The Virgin of Chapi, the splendid Andean gem of Colca Canyon with its famous hovering condors, Lake Titicaca, Pacific coastal town of Camana and geological highlights including Canters de Sillar, all within easy reach. Needless to say, you will not fail to notice the powerful influence of the three volcanoes; El Misti, Chachani and Picchu Picchu, which almost cradle Arequipa with a snow-capped crown.

Chachani, part of Arequipa’s snow-capped crown

You will also be affectionately drawn to the warm and friendly townspeople. The pride which is so often mentioned, and even revered by fellow Peruvians, is heart-warming. In no place that I have ever been have I ever met a people so happy or so proud of their city and culture; and with their life and place in the world in general. From scenery to song, cuisine to artistic culture and spirits to sport, you will regularly hear Los Arequipeños refer to their brand of just about anything as ‘La mejor del Mundo!’ (the best in the world!). It is hard to disagree, and certainly admirable that the local people have such pride and contentment in their great white city.

Arequipa is enchanting. The traditional culture and natural beauty leave you wanting to see more.  I will be back, and who knows, perhaps I will utter the immortal words: “Ari, quipay!”.

Have you read the other posts in this series?

Part 2: Arequipa to Cusco

Part 3: Cusco

Part 4: Cusco to Ollantaytambo

Part 5: Ollantaytambo to Aquas Calientes

Part 6: Aguas Calientes (Machu Picchu Pueblo)