Donegal, Heaven on Earth
The shepherd averts his attentive gaze from the flock of sheep for a moment. He thinks he has heard the soft purr of a car engine. A memory crosses his mind.
These cars today have nothing to do with the old van that emitted deafening explosions and thick black smoke. In it he toured the county donegal with the love of his life on a humble honeymoon that was unforgettable for them.
Cars may have changed in all these decades, he thinks, but Donegal is still steeped in the magic that only cars can have. the places enchanted by the fairies of nature.
From the car, we see the pastor on our left and, without knowing why, we raise our hands in greeting. Donegal is one of those places that invites you to show a frank smile to all the people you come across.
With the flock of sheep still in the rearview mirror, we turned our eyes to the GPS. We have a week ahead of us to try to discover **the most Gaelic county in Ireland. **
Donegal, the kingdom of green
Our first stop will be the **Glenveagh National Park**. the mountains of derryveagh they protect the 16,000 hectares of one of the most beautiful national parks of the six that Ireland has.
Of free entrance, Glenveagh National Park offers a complete network of trails that will lead us to discover the many attractions of the park.
A 19th century Victorian castle stands watchful over the dark waters of the Lough ('lake' in Gaelic) Veagh.
Inside we can admire gardens populated with specimens from places as remote as Colombia and China.
From the air will watch us the golden eagle, while another species successfully reintroduced into the national park, the deer, will avoid us on the ground.
Lake Veagh, watched over by golden eagles and surrounded by vast gardens
If the flora of Glenveagh National Park is composed mainly of shrubs and flowers, in the Ards Forest Park we can walk among magnificent ancient trees.
We will find this magical forest while driving on the N56 between the towns of Creeslough and Dunfanaghy. It is one of the few remaining samples of the typical irish forest that, thousands of years ago, covered the entire island.
To add an extra touch of beauty, the paths that run through the forest die in lonely and melancholic coastal coves washed by the waters of Atlantic.
They are also solitary –but much more extensive– the dunfanaghy Beaches, a sleepy little town just off the northwest tip of the island of Ireland.
Dunfanaghy, a small town with secluded beaches
We will walk for twenty minutes a strange landscape of sandy soil on which brightly colored flowers grow.
Some high dunes indicate the end of the path, and behind them appears a 2 kilometer long beach where a soul rarely walks.
is the Tramora beach. Near its northern end is preserved a ring of stones from the Celtic era. And it is that in Donegal the celtic roots they thrived, both in their landscape and in their people.
Also of Celtic root is the music that we will be able to listen live that night in Dunfanaghy's high street pubs. Harps and violins around a table full of beers.
Tramore Beach, where rarely does a soul walk
With a pint of Guinness in hand, any local you meet more than a couple of times will tell you that it's actually Dunfanaghy was left on the wrong side when, in 1921, the border line was drawn that separated the two Irelands.
With a 90% Protestant population, the residents of the town were afraid that the Irish from the South, Catholics and Republicans, would make their lives impossible. But it was not so, because in Ireland hospitality and bonhomie at last prevail over religious ideas.
A short distance from the center of Dunfanaghy we will have to stop the car before rushing towards the abyss at the end of the world. And that's what they look like Horn Head cliffs.
Hardly visited by tourists, these irregular rock walls covered with vegetation rise 180 meters on the white foam of the sea.
The cliffs of Horn Head, the abyss
As we look over the precipice we will have a spectacular view of the Donegal wilderness, but it will seem little to us when compared to the feeling of walking along the path that runs the Slieve League ledge, the highest coastal cliffs in Europe.
the cliffs of Slieve League – more beautiful, higher and more extensive than the famous Cliffs of Moher, in the southwest of Ireland – are a true ode to nature. Each corner will offer a different view and all of them will be beautiful.
Going through them from south to north leads about 4 or 5 hours, but later we will enjoy the rest of the warrior tasting one of Ireland's best fish and chips in the fishing village of Killybegs , where the amount of g is surprising body with dark skin and dark eyes.
And it is that in the times of the Invincible army, More than 3,000 Spanish sailors arrived on the Donegal coast as survivors of various shipwrecks. Today, almost five centuries later, his blood still lives on in the Donegal Irish.
Slieve League, magic on the cliff
The rough seas lashing the Donegal coast didn't just cause shipwrecks, so we'll get to bundoran for rent a surfboard and ride the waves in one of the best surf spots in Europe.
It will not be difficult to socialize at night in any of the pubs in this fishing village converted to surfing. It will be a good last contact with civilization before taking the ship to the Tory Island.
Because in Tory we will leave behind the world we live in to enter a totally different one. The king of the island himself will be waiting for us at the pier where the ferry docks.
It is chosen by the little more than 100 inhabitants from this island which is located about 12 kilometers from the northern tip of the Donegal coast.
The Atlantic in all its splendor
Tory is 5 kilometers long by 1.5 wide and is currently a haven for artists who have found inspiration in the history, mythology and dramatic landscapes of the island.
The oldest legend affirms that here lived the fomorians, a kind of ancient semi-divine race. What is historically proven is that, in the sixth century, the monk Colmcille founded in Tory a small monastery for his community. The tower is still standing.
The king will show us his possessions. Grassy cliffs, the lighthouse, the old chapel, the art museum, and a few houses here and there.
The King of Tory Island himself will greet us at the pier
Life is tough in Tory, battered by Atlantic winds for most of the year. Nevertheless, the storm does not come to their pubs and the locals will tell us the old legends in their ancestral language (Gaelic) while drinking by the fire.
Who knows. Maybe we'll meet too trapped by Tory Island… By Donegal.
And maybe, just maybe, someday let's listen to the engine of a car while we take care of the sheep, and memories of another life stir in our hearts.
The magical island of Tory