From the Belmullet Peninsula to Sligo Bay.
Behind the Belmullet peninsula, we discover something of the equivalent of our own Quiberon Bay in Brittany: a stretch of water exposed to the prevailing winds, but protected from the swell by an austere tongue of land battered by the spray.
It's a paradise for kite and wing surfers, with a privileged environment. On a stopover during a gale, we notice that the place is almost deserted: a lighthouse, a jetty, a few fishing boats, a handful of houses and a pub!
To the north of this bay, a fixed bridge, unfortunately, links the shore to the nearby peninsula.
We're now ready to make the "grand tour" to Sligo Bay.
Once the gale has passed, we round the peninsula and pass Eagle Island, with its squat white lighthouse guarding the sailor from the surrounding reefs.
Downwind sailing is pleasant, and in the evening we anchor north of the peninsula, at the mouth of the channel linking Blacksod Bay to Sligo Bay. The small fishing port of Broad Heaven and its quay are nestled in a meander surrounded by gently rolling hills, but without any amenities, not even a pub. We decide to put down the locker for the night.
Early in the morning, a dogfish is caught in our trap. We release it after letting my 4-year-old daughter touch its shark skin, so impressed was she by the menacing gaze of this agile, powerful fish.
It was a perfect moment to leave our anchorage under sail, escorted by a few dolphins who had come to observe the maneuver.
The coastline stretching eastwards is full of surprises: dizzying reliefs, shades of green and the famous rock formations of Down Patrick Head: rocks with a geological millefeuille detached from the continent by the force of erosion.
Killala bay and Silver Strand: alone in the world in two heavenly anchorages.
Eyes riveted to the depth sounder, we search for the best place to "put the pickaxe" between two sandbanks. "The pool" is the promising name of this anchorage in the shelter of the uninhabited longitudinal island of Bartragh. On the shore is the quiet little town of Killala, where we can finally top up our diesel if we walk a bit to the filling station.
A small market, a children's playground and we're "replete" with civilization.
Bartragh Island offers us the chance to spend the rest of the day relaxing on its sandbar: as the north coast is a little too exposed to the wind and waves, we prefer the south coast, on the anchorage side.
The boat floats alone in the middle of the lagoon, the village in the background, while a few metres away, a dark grey shiny head emerges, with two large black beads and astonished whiskers. We're being watched!
Our landing net struggles to fill with grey shrimp, but no matter, the water is calm, the light is soft and we savor this place all to ourselves at this moment.
Thirty miles or so separate us from the north of Sligo Bay, where we'd like to position ourselves, given the weather forecast for the next few days. A few unenthusiastic dolphins, hunting seabirds and, above all, a basking shark fin spotted on the surface complete the day's bestiary.
As we approach the gigantic cliffs of Slive League, vertigo sets in. Waterfalls cascade down a few hundred metres, dotting the dark rock with silvery laces.
The anchorage of White Strand bay (or Silver Strand Beach, depending on the map) welcomes us in the hollow of its cathedral of cliffs.
The sound of a waterfall mingles with the bleating of sheep clinging to the steep green walls. The translucent water, at a surprisingly acceptable temperature, and the blond sand lining the bottom of the little bay promise a delightful swim that doubles as a shower.
The next day, the captain's face was all smiles: Poseidon, like a fisherman's Santa Claus, had deposited a lobster in our trap ... weeks of patience meticulously choosing THE right "spot", finally rewarded.
Once again, alone to enjoy this paradise, our last two anchorages fulfilled our dreams of simple pleasures.
Last Irish edges ...
Due to scheduling constraints, we can't spend too much time in this part of Ireland, which is well worth a visit.
Arranmore Island welcomes us in gloomy weather: low clouds, rain and wind. We decide to explore the island anyway. With oilskins, boots and waterproof pants on, everyone climbs into the dinghy and heads for the Rossillion bay slipway.
As is often the case in Ireland, there are no coastal paths: the houses overlook the sheep fields that stretch right down to the shore. The road leading to the village of Leabgarrow dominates the landscape. We'll pretend it's sunny: playground with sea view, ice cream and happy hour overlooking the small ferry terminal.
We leave Arranmore as the sky clears. It's a little frustrating not to have been able to enjoy the island in fine weather. To get to Burton Port, a 3-mile shortcut is highly recommended, but only small local fishing boats venture out.
We reach the channel by playing hide-and-seek with the two ferries linking the island to Burton Port, 7 miles away.
The narrow channel lined with granite chaos is reminiscent of a North Brittany harbor. A maze of small channels weaves its way to the quay, which is only used by fishing boats and ferries.
We anchor a short distance away and walk to a small gas station, 2 km away, to refuel. Drinking water will be bottled on the quay.
Mission accomplished, we set off again with the tide to "park" in a small wild anchorage opposite Owey Island. A few dolphin fins and seal snouts wander around the boat. We're delighted by the purity of the landscape: clear water, beaches, rocks and mountains in the background. The area is sparsely urbanized and feels like the end of the world.
Heading for the "roof" of Ireland, we sailed across to pass "Malin Head" and position ourselves in a slightly rolly but magnificent anchorage.
A wharf with fishing boats, a large beach with a campsite and a few houses clinging to the cliffs.
The weather is radiant, we enjoy the late afternoon at the beach and dine on an excellent fish & chips in the local bar with live music before being unexpectedly invited for a nightcap by two families barbecuing at the big beach campsite. The kids are playing, we're chatting and the atmosphere is warm and friendly.
Back on board, an incandescent sunset brings a fitting end to this wonderful Irish adventure. Bye Eire, if your ascent juggling the vagaries of the weather sometimes made us go goat, you delighted us with the beauty of your landscapes, the authenticity of your musical strolls and the kindness of your people.
Tomorrow, we'll be heading for Scotland...
