Day 6: Ballyliffin to Buncrana (19.3 miles)

When I arrived at my B&B yesterday, my neck and shoulder were really sore. If it had been a longer walk to get there, I'd probably have given up.  I knew that I could not under any circumstances carry that backpack over the Mamore Gap today.  Not only was the route going to be physically challenging, it was going to be very, very long. At the Riversdale B&B in Carndonagh, Wilson and Sharon, my hosts, had told me that in the summer they've had cyclists who send their backpacks ahead of them to their next B&B via a taxi rather than carry it on the bike. I was thinking this would be a good thing to do. Sharon (who was so lovely) had offered to take my backpack to Ballyliffin but I thought, given that the distance was so short I'd be fine and anyway I didn't want to put her out of her way. But by the time I actually got there I knew that if I didn't give my back a rest I would not make the finish. So when I arrived at the B&B, I told Bernie, the owner, of my plan and asked if she knew a taxi firm. She said that you'd never get a cab in that particular place but didn't she have to drive through Buncrana the next day and sure she'd be more than happy to drop my backpack off at my hotel. The kindness and openness of the people of Donegal knows no bounds. If it hadn't been for Bernie taking my backpack today, I would not have made it over the Mamore Gap let alone the whole way to Buncrana. I am so grateful for all the support and help I've received on this journey.

I left Bernie's about 10 and set off along my designated route. By the time I'd gone to Clonmany I saw what lay ahead - big, big, big, wee mountains.

To clarify - a mountain is at least 1000m in height, a wee mountain is somewhere between 400-500m. A demi-mountain, if you will. The further along the road I went the more wee mountains revealed themselves - there were loads of them. I'd decided to shave off a few miles by cutting out Dunaff. This brought me through a beautiful valley and led me to the foot of the climb up and up.

I took it very slowly as it was very steep. Steep climbs are real calf-burners. I stopped as often as I needed to and every stop reveal a new and beautiful vista.

Even if it was the same view, the weather was changing so quickly everything looked different. There was a mystical quality in the light. The far-away squalls danced with the sunlight breaking through. As usual, every time I thought I'd reached the top, the next bend revealed another climb.

I was going through my water too quickly and I knew that I had to have a bathroom break before I headed down the other side.

The thing about the top of mountains, even wee ones is that they're very bleak and desolate places. Not a whole lot of places to hide when you need a bit of privacy. Just before the peak and when my need was becoming desperate there seemed to be a bit of a hollowed out bowl in the rock where they'd constructed a lay-by.  'This is good,' I thought, 'I can hide from anything approaching from the top whilst keeping an eagle eye on what was coming from below.' Perfect. However when I got there I discovered that on the opposite side of the road to the lay-by there were not one, not two but THREE grottoes - one with a fine statue of Padre Pio in it- the biggest one, complete with Corinthian columns - another with our Lady of Lourdes and a kneeling statue of St Bernadette in front of it (also quite large) and a smaller statue of Mary, this time without Bernadette. 'Oh dear', I thought, 'through that small gap is the other side of the mountain and there is literally nothing for miles - not a rock or a shrub - only miles and miles of (ironically) bog where I could sink, and sheep.' I was close to bursting. I had to go here. So out of respect for the beliefs of those who put this strange trio in their own little stone shelters at the top of a wee mountain,  I went to the opposite side of the road and hunkered down behind the cut out face of the rock. (I would like to make it perfectly clear that I did not, nor would I, pee on a holy site. I was well away from the statues, which were on the opposite side of the road set back and in an elevated position, and none of them could see me!!) It was a tricky operation because of what I was wearing, I had a pair of trekking trousers on which are now so loose I need to wear a belt; there was also a bum bag around my waist and I was wearing a pair of waterproof trousers on top. On my top I wore a base layer and long fleece, my warm coat and the orange poncho. Just getting my trousers down was an operation, In my mind I was going to have quick wee and I'd have those trousers (X2) back up before you knew it, Unfortunately it was quite a big wee. I'd just about finished when I heard a car behind me coming over the top.  I tried my best to get my trousers(es) up super-fast but, what with all the layers and the coats and the stupid bum bag it all got tangled up and just as the car came along the wind blew up the poncho revealing me in mid-trouser-hoisting. Of course my immediate reaction was to turn my back on the car so that nobody could see my face. To them I'd only ever be a glimpse of bare arse in a giant orange poncho. I hope that it hadn't been their intention to park up and say a prayer.  I fear that I may have ruined the sanctity of the place forever. I do hope that the Marys and the Padre had a good laugh though. It must be boring as fuck up there all the time.

When I was respectable again I carried on, somewhat flushed (!) through the gap between the peaks to the other side. The downward side. It was breathtaking too - bleak and boggy and so far down,,,

I looked ahead. The road stretched out in a straight downward line before going off to the right and only bloody UP again.  I checked my GPS map. That was definitely my route. Not only that but these detailed maps I'd downloaded for my Trails app revealed that the entire rest of the way to Buncrana would be the same - a series of unfortunate undulations. And I thought the worst was behind me!

It wasn't. The effort of the climb as well as the relentless pounding on the road was having a very serious effect on my feet and my back.  Even without the backpack my spine was not in a good way. I know this feeling. It's when everything in my spine is so far out of alignment that it's only a matter of time before it goes into spasm. I walked the rest of the way to Buncrana kneading into the part of my spine that was angry. It offered some relief but I needed to stop.  The thing was I couldn't! It was going to be tight to get to the hotel before dark anyway, I could not risk walking along on country roads in the dark. I had to keep going. I had the incredible views across the Lough to boost me.

The miles passed so slowly and my feet began to throb. I could feel new sites where, now swollen, they were beginning to rub. I just kept on keeping on. When Buncrana finally came into view I was so relieved but my hotel was through the town and out the other side and Bucrana is unusually big.

Buncrana literally translates as "The Bottom of the Crana (River)

Finally I got here.  I don't know how I kept going but by the time I got to the Reception desk I must've looked a complete sight.

The woman at Reception knew exactly who I was (Bernie, I suspect!) and had everything ready to go. I signed in and she carried my backpack for me to the room. How amazing is that! When we got there she said, "If you just don't fancy coming down to the bar to get dinner, just call down to me and I'll take you up anything you need." I fully intended to go get my own dinner but by the time I had a bath all I wanted to do was get into my PJs and never have to put on shoes again.

So I had a lovely dinner in my room and even though every muscle in my body still aches I'm doing a lot better.  It's a short walk day tomorrow.  I'm going to send my pack on by taxi and hopefully that will rest me up enough to do the final walk into Letterkenny on Saturday.

With any luck and a following wind.

Total miles to date: 90.3 miles