Teelin to Inishbofin

This way to Sligo....

26th to 31st July
Teelin-Sligo-Kilcummin-Broad Haven-Portnafrankagh-Inishbofin Is.

It’s been hard work, sailing my way slowly along the northwest of Ireland, with almost unrelenting head winds. Despite the photos showing blue skies, it’s been pretty wet and windy too. (We just don’t take our cameras out when the weather is foul!) Sailors sometimes need to remind themselves how hard it can be to sail six miles to windward in a rough sea; much harder than sixty miles in benign conditions. And, without labouring the point, toothache doesn’t help!

There are very few sailing boats in these parts. Apart from Sligo with two visiting yachts, I have not seen a single boat - other than the small local fishing boats - until reaching this island of Inishbofin (half way down the Atlantic coast of Ireland) last night. This is a bigger Inishbofin than the one I spent a night at a week ago. (Inishbofin = ‘White cow island’ according to Gaelic glossary). There are permanent residents, and four other visiting yachts, here, and a little orange ferry taking people to and from the mainland. You may not know, but there are dozens of islands off the west coast; many were inhabited until quite recently, but now I think only half a dozen or so. Eric Newby’s book, “Round Ireland in Low Gear” (he was on a bicycle), captures the fascination and remote storminess and grey bogginess of the area. Everywhere though, I have found warm friendly folk urging to me to join them in the local bars, which are more plentiful than shops, it seems.

I passed both the highest cliffs in the British Isles – though the photo doesn’t give any idea of scale; and well offshore, Croagh Patrick (“The Creek”), a holy mountain, that ascends over 2,000 feet from the coast. Coincidentally, last Sunday, the last in July, is the traditional day for the pilgrimage, and this year over 20,000 pilgrims climbed it – some in bare feet (= added penitence, I believe)

Now I’ll stay in Inishbofin for a day of tourism. It’s a chance to dry out soggy kit. And find something to eat, apart from Guinness. No dentist in sight, alas.

Where I tied up in the town centre, near a busy road bridge

Leaving, and going the wrong way...

Grey thundery days with moments of brightness

Hard going, heading towards The Stags

Somewhere off north west Ireland (see holes in rocks)

Just when I missed sealife, an escort appeared for sail into Broad Haven

A fine start to the day....no camera for what happened later!

"Red sky in the morning........"

Not another boring cliff, this is the highest in British Islands, I'm told