Bluestack Way-Day 2 (Ireland; 2 of 2) | A Turf Farm? - Day 9

The descent is steep and somewhat drier, though it isn't without its Oh Shit moments. Somehow, I find a way to slog through the wetness without slipping. Then I stumble into a mine field. Fortunately, Phil laid out the preferred path (see white pvc poles in picture below). Hopping my way through and weaving in and out of the poles like I’m a slalom course, I find safe passage through the murky bottomless goo. If it looks easy, the camera and your eyes are deceiving you. Some of those mounds are > 6 ft (2 m) apart and 3 ft (1 m) tall. 

Around 330 pm, I hit dry ground, my body is telling me it's time for a break. I shed my back, lean back against it, and kick up my wet boots. The sun is out now and I bask in the warmth. Appreciate everyone that has wished sunshine my way! It's the first day of sunshine I've have had for any length of time thus far.

About an hour later, I'm far enough east that I can look back and get an appreciation of the landscape and the rolling foothills I just passed through.

As I near the village of Tyreen, it is really more a loose collection of houses than a village. I reach into my hip belt pouch and pull out one of my two clementines. As I insert my thumbnail, a sweet citrusy aroma is set free. I think to myself, damn, this is going to taste so good. Like Pavlov's dog, I start salivating at the thought of biting into the clementine. After completely pealing the clementine, I tear it in half, then take a tiny wedge into my mouth. A burst of cool, tangy, sweet, refreshing juice is released. It is even better than I expected. I savor every single wedge. As I finish, I pass a collection of thrash bins. The trail has provided once again. I stop, and toss away the peel and other thrash I've been packing since earlier today. I spent 10 minutes stretching before picking up my pack.

Sometime later, I climb out of the valley and up onto a plateau, following Phil along an old rocky, pothole filled road. As I saunter through the water-filled potholes, I look out into the distance and see rows and rows of white bags (center of picture). On the right side of the road, I notice large mounds of stacked white bags.

My first commercial turf farm. The turf was cut in late March, and it appears it is now time to harvest the turf and bag it for retail.

On the other side of the road are several large stacks of filled turf bags. Each bag is marked 20 kg (44 lbs). Several of the bags lay open and I snap a picture. The commercial variety of turf is slightly smaller and more uniform than Frank's logs. Once completely dry, these can be added to any fire, just like a log of wood. Burning turf has a distinctive earthy aroma which I have grown to enjo quite a bit.

I continue for another hour and a half before the temperature drops and the winds picks up. I started the day not knowing where I would end up or where I'd be sleeping. A little after 7 pm, the trail provides again. I pass a cluster of homes and road marked Blue Stack Drive. I notice, down below me, a farmer working on his ATV at the back of the first house. I make my way towards him. As I near, he meets me in the front yard. I introduce myself and ask if he knows where I might be able to pitch a tent for the night. We chat for a bit, never does reveal his name. However, he is very friendly and welcoming. He offers me some water as well as one of his pastures, the one behind his house up on the hill, which I just walked down. I extend my gratitude and spend the next 15-20 minutes finding a suitable site for my tent. A suitable site must be a gentle slope, not too wet, not too lumpy, and void of sheep poo of course. A tall order in these parts. Finally, like Goldilocks I find a site that is just right. I pitch my tent, brush my teeth, and call it a night. The sun won't go down for another 3 hours and I'm alright with that. Today was a great day, can't wait to see what tomorrow brings.