I wake to the sound of a light drizzle falling against my tent. It's 630 am and way too early to start the day when you have over 17 hours of daylight. The long days have spoiled me as of late, and I am enjoying being a late riser. Let’s see what happens in an hour, I tell myself. Then I roll over. Two hours later I wake to the warming sunshine and stiff breeze.
I fold up camp, head out of the wet pasture and look for drier ground. I feel great this morning. Head, feet, Body, Mind, and Heart, All-Good! Feet are no longer an issue. After passing the Eglish River (that’s not a typo by the way), I stop to grab breakfast with the hopes of filtering water. I make several unsuccessful attempts to gather water. If I pushed any harder, I would end up in the Eglish River. So, I return to my pack without a drop. I’m glad to be dry, though and decide there are safer places to gather water. I grab my pack and start walking. My phone is low on power today, so I use it sparingly. When I left the States, I opted not to carry a spare power source. I still think it's the right move.
I start my only big climb of the day. A 500 ft (150 m) gain in elevation over a mile and 3/4 (3 km). The rock two-track is dry so that helps. The sun feels good when it pokes out of the morning clouds. I stop on the climb up to admire the view and the remains of an old Irish homestead.
Looking right.
A bit further, I can't believe my eyes, the trail has provided once again. What a great gift, I think to myself. That's as easy as it gets to fill up on water and there's a cup too! I reach down, grab the cup, fill it full, and take a big refreshing drink! Ha! How many of you just said, "NO, don't do it!?" No way, I'm enjoying being healthy way too much. I do, however, fill my filter bag, and squeeze some nice clean water into both Nalgene's before moving on. The cup has the inscription "Careful I'm Packing Heat" written on the side. I chuckle as I move up the hill.
Cresting the top of the pass reveals a beautiful view. Though it is now overcast and quite windy, I pause to admire the view over Lough (Lok) Eske. A lough is essentially another word for lake in Ireland. There are approximately 160 named freshwater Loughs on the Island. Lough Eske has an interesting history that ties back to Friary in Donegal Town.
Read More of Lough Eske
I begin my descent. It's a steep direct descent, dropping about 1,000 ft (300 ft) over 1.25 mi (2 km). A few minutes from the top, my body is telling me that those four lemon-flavored Fibre One bars aren't enough to keep going this morning. I shed my pack, take out a Snickers bar I found in my pack a few days ago, and gulp about half a Nalgene. Haven't had a Snickers in years. It's really hitting the spot today.
The sun is out now and I decide to sit and meditate for a while. I close my eyes, focus on my breath, and start noting the sounds around me. My surroundings come to life, drowned out by the wind in my ears, the marching of my boots on the loose rock, and the carbide tips of my trekking poles striking the ground. The first thing I notice, to my right, is the sound of flowing water. Then, a songbird a few hundred yards in front of me. Another, closer and to the right. Then, another to the left and further downhill of the original. Six in all. All singing their hearts out with complex intricate songs. Even the wind makes different sounds, at least three. One when it blows hard into my left ear, the second when it blows across the field to my right, and the third when it blows against the leaves of the trees. A sheep yells "Bahhhhh!" in the distance. After 20 minutes or so, I reopen my eyes, grab my pack and move down the hill.
Near the bottom of the descent, this Irish Wych Elm catches my eye. I haven't seen many mature native Irish trees. Lots of plantation pines, varieties from Canada. According to Frank, "They grow fast and tolerate poor Irish soils." The Which Elm, however, is a beautiful sight and I admire it for a moment.
Before reaching the bottom of the descent and the shores of Lough Eske, I stop for lunch and bask in the sun once again. I make use of a comfortable landscape rock in a driveway to lay back against and give my feet a little rest.
Once I reach the shore of Lough Eske, the commotion of waterfowl flushing catches my attention. To my surprise, I see several mallards swim away. On the rock, undisturbed, sits a lone drake Mallard, also basking in the sun. Turns out most of the species of ducks from North America, including a few new ones can be found in Ireland along what they call the Eastern Atlantic Flyway.
See more waterfowl here by scrolling down
By now, I'm glad to be at the bottom of the hill. However, I'm noticing that just below my right knee joint, on the inside of my leg, I feel pain with every step. Undoubtedly sore from the descent. I still have 3+ miles (6 km) to go. The pain is getting progressively worse. I stop to assess. It doesn't hurt to flex my knee, nothing is sore on the knee. Boy does it hurt when I step down onto the ground though. I manage through it as best I can, tolerating the increasing pain with step. At about 230 pm, I hit the Donegal Town bypass, oops I just took the long way into my Airbnb. Oh well, all I can do is laugh at my haste. It takes me a moment to get used to all the noise and the constant parade of cars by me. The shoulder is wide, so I feel safe. However, after my past week of wandering, I don't care to be anywhere near this amount of activity. It's a harsh reentry into everyone else's world. By now, the pain is real and I can't wait to stop for the day. I'm also noticing the sunburn on my arms and feeling it on my neck as well. I finally make it to my Airbnb, happy to be off the bypass and whooshing cars, around 315 pm. I am tired, worn out, and a bit sunburned, but in one piece.
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