Derry, Donegal, Northern Ireland

Day 9

The day's plan called for a trip to Derry and then a drive along the rugged coast of Donegal. After a late but hearty breakfast we started off. The trip up to Derry was relatively straight forward on good roads. I found a place to park just outside the walled part of the old city. Entering through an ancient archway was quite moving especially considering the recent Troubles having to a large extent taken place here. However, from our brief inspection, things had quite obviously improved. The shops were busy, the people friendly and there were no signs of the damage that the bombings had inflicted. At one point, we were informed, over 80% of the buildings had suffered some damage at the hands of one or other of the two warring factions. Carol felt a particularly vibrant charge about the city, and so went into a local music shop to talk about the early punk bands who hailed from Northern Ireland. While discussing The Undertones, she happened to meet a cousin of the O'Neill brothers working there in the store. Small world, Ireland.

After tea and scones, we climbed the parapet of the city walls and had a walk back in time. There were plaques commemorating this or that event, mostly atrocities, seemingly at 10 foot intervals along the entire length of the mile long wall. Overlooking the Bogside, one can only hope that the next generation will have an opportunity to live in peace and not have to fight the wars of their fathers. In spite of the city's past history, Derry has a lot of things going for it. It is certainly one of the more picturesque towns in all of Ireland. Keeping fingers firmly crossed.

As we were finishing our stroll along the wall, a slight drizzle began to fall necessitating a change of plans. Leaving the car park, it became apparent that with the current weather conditions it was probably not the best time to drive the scenic Donegal coast, however evocative the low lying clouds might be. We did visit the town of Donegal itself with its beautiful castle and river, then drove to the famed fishing village of Killybegs, walking along the pier, examining the numerous fishing vessels while being battered by a fierce off shore wind. The life of a fisherman is no picnic. They are often forced to operate in the most appalling conditions. It must be in their blood.

On the way back to Eamon's we stopped at several roadside attractions admiring the cliffs and rugged outcrops that dotted the landscape. Not many lush pastures in this part of the country.