Love and the Emerald Isle
‘‘You know I have always loved you... ’’ Alan Granville shares how he was proposed to overlooking the remote Achill Island.
It was a magical view too good to waste.
We were at the peak of Minaun on Ireland’s remote west coast. From there you can see a panoramic view of Achill Island far below us, its craggy wilderness stretching out like a giant tapestry as far as the eye can see.
The weather was beginning to turn after hours of glorious early summer sun. Clouds were pouring down the mountain, cascading over us. I needed to capture the moment. I fumbled to find my phone but as I unlocked the screen, with a finger hovering over the camera icon, I heard his voice beside me... ‘‘you know I have always loved you...’’.
I knew straight away, even as the last syllable left his mouth that this was it. I turned slightly, phone now forgotten, and took the biggest inhale of my life, the sharp wind stealing my breath for a moment as he began to get down on one knee. He looked directly at me while opening a black box in his outstretched hand – ‘‘will you marry me?’’
But woah there! This is meant to be a travel article, not Life & Style... we’ll come back to this.
So how are we here? Why a proposal at this extreme westerly point of Europe? Because, simply, this is my favourite place in Ireland.
I grew up in big, brash Dublin but left in 1991 for foreign lands. Since then the country has had a boom, then a bust, and taken a big jump forward with progressive ideas, throwing off the shackles of the past.
For years I had come to County Mayo during my summers – my mother is from one of the main centres, Castlebar. This city boy was often laughed at for vague attempts at hay bailing or digging up peat in the bogs. I didn’t appreciate the area at the time, but I sure do now.
North and West Mayo often get overlooked in many a tourist’s itinerary. Dublin has the bright lights, Cork, Kilkenny and Galway buzz seven days a week, the Ring of Kerry sees invasions of hikers and cyclists while Donegal is so-hip-it-hurts now thanks to some Jedis. But what of Mayo – the third largest county by area in the country?
This is true farming land but with a new sense of cosmopolitan about it. Castlebar is hardly recognisable from the town I knew in the 1980s.
Neighbour Westport is, and always has been, one of the most picturesque and busy centres in the region, under the watchful eye of the imposing Croagh Patrick mountain.
But push further west and you come across Ireland’s largest island – Achill. For me, it was love at first sight. This is remote, rugged, true Eire. Roads cling to mountains as vast cliffs drop below you. Kilometres of peat bog with whitewashed homes built to withstand the worst the Atlantic can throw at them.
Hidden beaches dot the island and are the cleanest you can find. Keem Bay, at the very westerly point, is made for surfing and Instagram.
Nature, and humans, have found a way to survive this ruggedness. There are sheep everywhere, probably some of the hardiest breeds around. They hang miraculously to cliffs and saunter nonchalantly across roads. This is their land and we should be happy to be guests. Of course, people live here too. More than 2700 people in an area of 148 square kilometres, with the main centres of Keel and Dooagh, and blink-andyou-miss-them villages.
Just pointing the car in any direction and getting lost is pure joy. You could end up at the Deserted Village on the hillside at Slievemore, abandoned during the Irish potato famine in the 1840s, come across a megalithic tomb from the third or fourth centuries BC, or simply enjoy a vast sandy bay with not a person in sight.
Visitors have been coming here for years, but perhaps not as intensively as other parts of the country. The Irish tourism board has, however, been ramping up interest by including the area as part of the Wild Atlantic Way, which stretches 2500km right down the west coast from Donegal to Cork.
You can get a decent day’s worth of exploring on Achill from our base at the Mulranny Park Hotel. This picturesque and very friendly slice of old Irish hospitality sits over a bay just a few kilometres from the bridge to the island. A rather large attached leisure centre proves to be a great way to unwind after a day’s driving – especially the outdoor spa, which we recline in while the ‘‘soft’’ weather (rain) descends.
The next day was a bit murkier as we travelled north to the fishing village of Belmullet. The weather had closed in properly, but as we made our way to one of the most historic sites in Ireland, we were greeted with a break in the clouds. We were bathed in warm sunshine as we approached the Ceide Fields (meaning ‘‘flat-topped hill fields’’).
This is ancient Ireland. More than 5000 years old, this neolithic location contains the oldest known stone-walled fields in the world.
The visitor centre (adults 5 euro, child/student 3 euro) outlines the history of the area and the people, and you can wander through the archaeological digs. It is also an incredible place to get a photo of spectacular 112m sea cliffs, the grooves and cuts in the rock are another reminder of how primeval this land is.
Belmullet itself may not be the biggest dot on the landscape (just over a thousand souls live here) but it contains one of the most ‘‘Irish’’ of Irish pubs I have been in – Mcdonnells Bar. A roaring fire and a horde of locals who have probably sat and stood in the same places for donkey’s years.
The town also has a hidden surprise behind the facade of Talbot’s Bar and Restaurant – a four-star boutique hotel. It’s so completely unexpected that it takes a second to not think you are in London or Paris. Warm, inviting and exceptionally well decorated, it’s a gem.
Our final day saw the sun return with a vengeance and our journey back to Mulranny showed the stunning views of bogs and mountains that we missed in the ‘‘soft’’ weather. It was spectacular.
We also got a final look at Minaun – the mountain that holds such a special place in our hearts. Just 24 hours earlier, with just the hum of an electricity tower punctuating the swirling breeze, I said yes to the love of my life.
The author travelled at his own expense to Mayo but stayed there as a guest of Failte Ireland.