We visit Ireland for simple pleasures. Today was a classic Irish adventure. We took our time leaving the farmhouse. I had a nice chat with the sheep in the front yard while packing my roadtrip snacks of oranges and Taytos. Our destination was the west coast of counties Sligo and Donegal.

It was overcast as we drove the ring road of Mullaghmore. This worked in our favor as there was no one here with us except few local joggers. We gathered from the many signs that this was unusual. The views were still incredible despite the mist.

Classiebawn Castle held court beyond a rocky coastline under the shadow of Ben Bulben. We took our time savoring the views. I walked a bit and talked to the local cattle that came to the fence line. (You should always be nice to the neighbors.) Eventually we reached the town. Sailboats and fishing vessels lined the pretty little harbor. Like a few other couples, we grabbed an icecream and walked the harbor front park.

The next stop was Creevykeel court tomb. It sits just down the road behind an unremarkable car park. From the gate it looks like a pile of rocks. But we kept walking, and soon realized why it is an important megalithic monument site. Dating from 4,000 B.C., the standing stones evoke an otherworldliness. We were the only ones onsite (except for the person sleeping in their car in the lot), and it was cloudy with a light mist. It was easy to imagine Celtic warriors here. As we climbed under lintels and over thresholds, I truly felt connected to another time. Unfortunately, we were fully grounded in present and getting hungry.

So we drove up the road to the lovely seaside town of Bundoran. It seemed to me to be an Irish Atlantic City. Pubs, casinos, music venues, arcades, and shops lined several blocks. Like most beachside areas, it was a bit run down without the glitz of the night lights. Daytime was definitely not prime time.

An amusement park and waterpark dominated the beach. A golf course and seaside trail sat on the outskirts as a simpler alternative. The natural beauty of the area beckoned along a cliff walk trail.

Hungry, we headed first into town. I picked the Chasin Bull. Lunch wasn’t served for about fifteen minutes, but in Ireland an Irish coffee is always available to chase away the chill. When the food came, it was tasty. The staff was friendly. We lingered and regrouped. On an Irish adventure, there is no need to rush. With this principle in mind, I also visited a few shops.

We walked down to the beachside amusement park and opted to play a round of mini golf. In a rare stroke of luck, I hit the hole that supposedly led to a hole in one on the next level of the course. Except my ball did not come out of the hole. So I walk down to the lower green and kneeled down to look in the tube the ball went into. I stuck my hand in and came out with my ball. It had a hitchhiker. A large snail had attached itself to the golf ball, preventing it from exiting. Another Irish natural encounter left me speechless.

I spent the next hour on the rougey cliff walk. We climbed the steep trail to the cliffs and were rewarded with a spectacular view of the bay. I left my husband sitting overlooking the beach and continued on. I passed the golf course and some cattle pastures. I watched fishermen and dodged joggers. I found the fairy bridges and continued on to Tullan Strand. I was in a walker’s paradise. At least until I turned to face into the wind. It was an uphill battle with a bitter, cold wind in my face. The spots of rain added a little sting. But even that couldn’t detract from the beauty of the place. The few hearty souls on the trail greeted each other with the secret smile of those who realize the power of place and the drive to push on.

It was late in the day as we headed back to Leitrim and home. But we made one last stop at Drumcliffe.There, in the shadow of Ben Bulben, lies the grave of Yeats. It was simple and unremarkable. But it is in the churchyard where his grandfather preached, in the country he loved, in the region he immortalized in verse. Near the parking lot was a memorial with one of his poems, “….tread softly because you tread on my dreams”. It moved me.

As we drove home, I thought that every day we tread on dreams of others and ourselves. What a responsibility. Today, I think we used our footsteps wisely. I made new memories and also realized my dreams of travels and adventures in new places. We had pleasant encounters with local people. We shared life together. Tread softly indeed….tread softly.