Leaving the hostel I headed north, aiming to go round the Inishowen peninsula. Within a few miles I was buried in Muff, but passed straight through to stop in Moville, a small fishing village with great views across to Northern Ireland. Though by now I was further north than the north most point of NI. My inner bingo caller enjoyed the car park holding ‘two fat ladies-large ice creams’ and I and the bingo caller both took a walk by the sea edge. It would make a great place to run.
From there to Malin Head, which is the most northerly point in Ireland. To add to passing Ireland’s highest pub in the Sperrin mountains on Monday, I passed-yes!-Farren’s bar, Ireland’s most northern bar. Something about a whippet, tap n’spile and perpetual trouble at t’mill.
Malin Head is spectacular and wind blown, even on a sunny and calm day like today. Why the Franglais name, I don’t know.
Dunree military museum is housed in a Napoleonic fort, and was very quiet when I got there. It attracts over 10,000 visitors a year, so on more average days there might be as many as 30 people flooding through the gates. It has a fantastic view over Lough Swilly, but then it needed one. The museum is well enough put together, the standard mix of audio, visual and clickable, but there’s a slight air of melancholy about a fort stood in readiness for an invasion that never came. On that note, a stroll around the mostly abandoned and derelict buildings of the wider base fits nicely and let me use my imagination.
Tonight’s guest nationality: Swiss.
Summary: place picked at random, 1, and cycled to. A travel, see, stop, no dead baby joke kind of a day.