I am an early riser. I love the morning hours when the light is diffuse and the first notes of birdsong fill the air with promise. When we travel, I putter around the house with my coffee. I read, I write, and I explore options for the day.

This means that I check the weather and then I check out potential things to do based on likelihood of good weather. I try to have a menu of options arranged in drivable clusters. When my husband gets up, we discuss options. Somehow, a game plan emerges.

Some days our plans work, and some days we wing it. Our first day in Sligo did not go as planned. We drove to Carrowmore Megalithic Cemetery to see the large burial site. The parking lot gates were open, but the signs indicated the site was closed. I wandered around the lot as we could see a massive round stone structure on the hill, but trespassing is not my thing. So I took a few photos from the road and we moved on.

We drove toward the coast and stopped at the Strandhill flats to watch families play on the wet sand chasing the receding tide. It was a beautiful setting of sea, sand, and sky. But I wanted to hike up Knocknarea in search of the legendary Queen Maeve’s tomb. So we left and headed to the trail head parking. It was closed for a 5k run. And many of the roads were closed so we couldn’t easily turn around.

The GPS routed us up a mountain road. It was narrow and winding. I had no idea where we were headed. Eventually we found ourselves on the road to Strandhill beach. Somewhat disappointed, we parked in a public lot and walked down to find lunch.

Sometimes the unexpected turns out for the best. At Strandhill, we found a thriving surf scene. Watching the surfers, I noticed a beach trail. So without really knowing where we were headed, we took off among the sea grass.

We found beautiful views of lighthouses and an old stone church. Grave markers poked up through the long grass as lonely sentinels along the shore. The blue sky spread overhead and green moss lined the rocks below. A light breeze kissed my face as the faint smell of forest carried down from the mountain and mingled with the tang of ocean spray.

I don’t know if the trail was better or worse than the mountain hike I planned, but it was enough. Satisfied, I settled into a beachside pub to savor fish and chips in a place that knew to bring malt vinegar without having to be asked ….. and they refused to bring my Guiness until it had settled and been topped off. It is hard to explain to my American friends how much these little nuances bring me joy.

After a leisurely lunch, we strolled the far end of the beach hand in hand. He stopped to watch the golfers battle the dunes. I am fascinated by the surfers who brave the cold Atlantic. The farther we walked, the fewer people. We were almost back around the bend to the sand flats where we started the morning.

All this fresh air and walking deserved a treat. So we stopped at Mammy Johnson’s. From the look of the crowd, it was a local favorite. I ordered Banoffee. I didn’t know what it was exactly….but I love Banoffee pie. The taste blew me away. By far, the best icecream ever. .

On the way home we saw a sign for Glencar waterfall. Why not? The road was packed with people and bicycles. It was not built for the volume of traffic so we go very slowly. Luckily, the large parking lot had room for us.

The walk to the falls was short. The falls were not the biggest but were still pretty and peaceful.

Glencar lake was idyllic. The sheep in the meadow punctuated the green grass nestled between mountains. I could have sat here all day. We lingered. I watched sheep and my husband watched people. He talked to families out for a weekend afternoon. I watched lambs frolic near the water.

Headed back through Manorhamilton, we saw signs for a street festival. We were here. We might as well enjoy. So we settled into the local pub until the music started. The first band were local boys. Their songs were all dark and full of angst. I bought a grilled burger. The Irish beef was amazing and made up for the music. The second band was fun and more traditional. I found myself dancing and singing along. The third band turned up the volume to a place that was uncomfortable. My ears felt assaulted. I couldn’t even think about the music. So, it was time to go.

None of this day was in my plans, but sometimes the best things about travel are the unexpected surprises you encounter along the way. Unplanned. Unanticipated. Unscripted.