Travel. Ireland. County Donegal.
Serene revelations of County Donegal
Finding wintry peace in the North-Western corner of Ireland
It’s an evening before the shortest day of the year 2019 when we slowly roll through an eerie blanket of fog enveloping everything around us, including the road itself. Ireland’s Christmas station is blasting out “Frosty the Snowman,” and, though outwardly jolly, our eyes are glued to the small section of the road directly in front of us. We are nervously looking for any sign of ice that could make our long drive up North even more tiresome.
We have decided to start this year’s festive season with a short trip and gift ourselves a glimpse of one of Ireland’s most praised wilderness destinations — County Donegal. The county is geographically isolated from the rest of Ireland since it shares most of its border with Northern Ireland. Still, instead of sulking in the northwestern corner of the island, it has turned its unique position and status into a marketable asset, and we are here to buy.
After almost four hours of driving, we finally reach our cosy and warm Airbnb and are ready to succumb to sleep amid the astounding silence of the countryside. Although the next morning turns out to be gloomy and gray, our spirits are instantly lifted as we open the curtains and take in a superb view from a floor-to-ceiling window. We are surrounded by green pastures dotted with a few munching sheep, the edge of the forest is almost within arm’s reach, and in the distance, you can spot a leaden-blue vastness of the Atlantic ocean.
Our breakfast dilemma is easily sorted with mouth-watering honey and mustard glazed smoked mackerel that our host’s family business left us to try out. It is so flavorsome and juicy that our first task of the day is to get to the nearby Killybegs town and hopefully find some more to take home.
Killybegs seems like a charming little town that still hasn’t woken up for a day when we take an early walk. Streets are ghostly quiet, and we see only a few folks out and about during our visit.
One thing you can’t miss is the town’s prominent natural harbor with rows and rows of trawlers, boats, and ships, bringing some color into this cloudy day. Even though Killybegs has a population of slightly over 1000, it is Ireland’s biggest fishing center. The fresh catch right off the boats is being processed or frozen right here and exported worldwide.
Luckily, we manage to find a fish shop and stock up on our new favorite mackerel. Granted, it was at the main intersection of Killybegs since that is what life here is all about. It’s funny how small talk with a shopkeeper leads to a prompt thank you message from our Airbnb host for buying his fish. I almost forgot how it is to live in such a small town where everything is known to everyone within moments, even what the only tourists today bought in the shop. It puts a big smile on my face and makes me fall a little bit in love with the region.
Truth be told before we moved to Ireland, I had this impression that island living is all about seafood. That wherever you go, there will be signs of the fishing industry and plenty of marine bounties to choose from. Well, we have explored the majority of magnificent Wild Atlantic Way along Ireland’s western coast. Still, we haven’t found much more than fish & chips, mussels, calamari rings, shrimps, and occasional fish. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t pass the opportunity to indulge in any of the aforementioned goodies, but I have been missing diversity.
Also, I have been dreaming of an authentic fishing town. Of the aroma of a fresh catch carried with every breeze, and the sound of crashing waves joined with the easy banter of fishermen. The place where the harsh Atlantic wind plays havoc with your hair, your face gets salty from invisible water droplets suspended in the air, and all it takes to taste the ocean is to lick your lips. I think I may be one step closer to finding it.
If the title of the largest fishing port in Ireland isn’t enough for such a small town, Killybegs is also famous for producing some of the world’s most renowned hand-knotted carpets. Donegal Carpets can be found in Dublin Castle, Vatican, Buckingham Palace, White House, and other prominent establishments. The former Killybegs Carpet Factory is now home to the Killybegs International Carpet Making & Fishing Center. Visitors can inspect the world’s largest hand-knotting loom and even try their hand at the craft. Unfortunately, the center is closed during our short stop at Killybegs, but it would be a place worth visiting.
Next on our itinerary is the most impressive natural attraction in the region — Slieve League (Sliabh Liag in Irish) cliffs. After leaving the car at the lower car park, we walk the rest of the way to the cliffs. The picturesque stroll among brownish‐green grass–covered craggy hillsides in a company of Blackface sheep, is like a thrilling prelude to the magnificent view at the end.
It turns out that the Blackface breed is the most common breed of sheep on upland farms since it can easily endure relentless wind and rain. Its thick wool has been spun into coarse yarn and woven to create the acclaimed Donegal tweed for centuries. Although initially tweeds were worn by working men as effective protection against the damp and cold, they have long become a high-fashion staple. It is hard to imagine a more appropriate and elegant winter coat as one made from Donegal tweed with those colorful flecks sprinkled across the simple fabric. A girl can dream, right?
It is not long before we are graced with our first glimpse of the mighty Slieve League mountain that drops off steeply into the sapphire blue ocean, forming impressive sea cliffs. They are one of the highest in Europe, reaching around 600 meters at their peak — almost three times the height of Ireland’s legendary Cliffs of Moher.
Unfortunately, the top of the mountain is obscured by feathery clouds that keep rolling off the ridge and constantly changing the scenery. This means no climbing up to the higher vantage point since it would be too risky, and we wouldn’t be able to see a thing. To compensate for this, Mother Nature has decided to reward us with an unexpected sunny spell. We meet only a few other visitors while there (traveling shortly before Christmas has its perks since everyone else is frantically shopping for holidays and nature walks are low on their list).
Perched on the edge of Carrigan Head, a short distance from the Slieve League’s upper car park is one of the approximately 80 signal towers positioned at certain intervals along the island’s coast. These peculiar remnants of the Irish communication and observation system from the first decade of the 19th century look pretty similar — square, plain, solitary, two‐story towers in various states of collapse. They were built as a precaution during the Napoleonic Wars when a French invasion of Ireland was a plausible threat.
To me, the signal towers seem like devoted soldiers still persevering and clinging to their orders despite the unforgiving time and harsh elements. They feel like a constant wherever you wander along the coastline, giving a strange sense of safety. This one looks well preserved and would certainly merit a visit if not for the winter solstice, resulting in the shortest daylight hours and eagerness to see a little more of this corner of the country.
Driving around may not be the most intimate way to get to know a place, but, boy, oh boy, County Donegal delivers! Starting with a meandering drive up to the Glengesh Pass, where grassy peatlands and a few foresty patches meet dashing mountains. Throw in some fluffy clouds caught at the upper crests, and you got yourself a genuinely breathtaking and mysterious view.
It’s followed by a rugged coastline with white sand beaches, and shortly after, you are utterly mesmerized by the stunning Derryveagh mountain range. The highest peak, Mount Errigal, towering at the height of 751 meters, with its imposing presence, feels so regal that for a second, I feel like I should curtsy.
The Poisoned Glen at the foot of the majestic mountain is even more hypnotizing. It’s hard to discern what exactly creates this feeling, but the combination of striking mountains encircling the valley, a mirror-like lake reflecting the clouds above, and well-preserved ruins of an old church embellishing the glen leaves me utterly spellbound.
There is absolutely no doubt as to why the true name of this place is Heavenly Glen, not Poisoned Glen, which results from a mistranslation of the Irish name.
In the very heart of Derryveagh mountains lays Glenveagh National Park. With darkness fast approaching, we opt for a shuttle bus to get from a car park to the Glenveagh Castle, which sits on the shore of beautiful Lough Veagh some three kilometers from the park’s entrance. The first thing we notice at the palace grounds is perfect calmness. No people, no sounds, no wind — like a place frozen in space and time but in the best possible way. To not lose this luxurious sensation, we take the View Point Trail to get higher.
All the way up, I keep turning my head around just to steal another and another look at the lake and mountains on the opposite shore. It is truly beautiful, and I marvel at how there are places where mindfulness becomes your natural state of being. You are in the present moment with your eyes and heart fully open, aware of the magic that is around you, and immensely grateful that you got to experience this. As expected, the view from the top is nothing short of a masterpiece, and all I can do is try and take it all in without getting dizzy from the gratitude pulsating through me.
The Glenveagh Castle sits like a silver brooch among sheltering, evergreen pine trees at the very edge of the lake. It was built in the second half of the 19th century by John George Adair. He and his wife Cornelia set to create a charming highland retreat, trying to best Queen Victoria’s, Balmoral Castle. Afterward, the property changed its owner two times, and the last one, Henry Plumer McIlhenny, left the estate to the Irish nation.
Cornelia Adair significantly improved the castle grounds after her husband’s death by constructing lavish Pleasure and Walled Gardens. Later, Mr. McIlhenny perfected them with the help of two prominent garden designers. Even in the winter, they look splendid and offer a relaxing walk among exotic bushes and trees, and national floral treasures.
We are particularly impressed by a Mahonia shrub with such a divine and powerful smell that we spend a good 15 minutes trying to absorb it through every pore of the body. It feels like lying down in a field full of lilies of the valley, and I’m considering staying there as long as it blooms.
However, we still haven’t explored the shore of Lough Veagh, and this notion gets us going. The tranquility of the evening is beyond words. The serene landscape with the lake and crystal clear reflections of the Derryveagh mountains is like something out of a fairy tale. I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out that we have accidentally crossed into a mythical realm, and some little folk are discreetly giggling in a nearby holly tree about our dropped jaws and marveled facial expressions. I wouldn’t mind, not even the slightest bit.
We wait for the last shuttle bus back, savoring every moment in the enchanting Glenveagh National Park. A few minutes before its departure, we decided to run back to the garden to sniff the Mahonia shrub for the last time. We may have developed an addiction.
Back at the park’s entrance, we are ready to start a long drive back home, but not without a dinner stop in the largest town of County Donegal — Letterkenny.
The moment you step into a dimly lit pub and are greeted with its familiar warmth and traditional ambiance, there is no way you can resist a huge portion of fish & chips. Today is no exception.
We cave into the craving, and, after the first bite, I’m ready to take my words back regarding the lack of available seafood diversity. This very dish is all a person needs after a long day exploring Ireland’s natural wonders, and we have proved it time and time again. However, after this trip, we will need some serious research on the impact of a smoked mackerel for breakfast. We can’t exclude the possibility that it had something to do with today’s fantastic experiences. But one thing is sure. We will be back to explore the rest of the county.
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