Day 102: Dunkineely - Keshcarrigan

Today we got up a little earlier than yesterday, although don't think it was at dawn: there were simply no talkative neighbors to delay Daddy Edu. In about twenty-five minutes by car we arrived in Donegal and parked near the port. I was already sniffing out urban adventures.

Donegal is a small city but with a lot of life. The first thing we saw was The Diamond, the central square which was supposed to be a quiet place, but it was full of cars going around as if it were a racetrack. I was jumping between sidewalks and sniffing corners while Daddy Edu and Uncle Joan dodged traffic lights and horns. Then we walked around Donegal Castle, a 15th century castle with the appearance of a serious fortress, as if it were looking at you and saying: "I'm in charge here, human and dog included". We also went to St. Patrick's Church, modern, imposing and majestic, with its round tower that seemed to touch the sky and bells that didn't ring for me, luckily.

Then it was time for a well-deserved break in a bar with a patio. I lay down in the shade, watching that nobody got too close, while Daddy Edu and Uncle Joan had a drink. There was no food for dogs, but at least I could spy on pigeons and cats in the distance.

We continued with Donegal Abbey, a Franciscan monastery in ruins with its cemetery included. For me it was a festival of ancient smells: damp stone, moss and mystery in every corner. I felt like a canine detective solving historical cases. We went back to the car and the logistical part began: Daddy Edu and Uncle Joan did some shopping in two different supermarkets, because it seems that one never has everything they are looking for. I stayed guarding the camper, someone has to be the supreme guardian.

Half an hour later we were in a parking lot near Tullaghan, where we ate in the camper. With a full belly, we refueled water at a gas station in Grange, although the jet was so slow that I had time to take a half-minute nap. With a small detour we went back to the main road, the N15, and we had the long stretch: more than two hours, more than a hundred kilometers of curves, endless green landscapes and mountains that seemed to play hide-and-seek with the clouds. I was glued to the window, tongue out, with my ears in the wind, enjoying the ride as if it were a roller coaster without a seatbelt.

The only break was next to Boyle Abbey, where Daddy Edu took some quick photos. I stayed inside, guarding the camper like a real sentinel. Then the search for the perfect place to sleep began. The first place was a small parking lot next to a canal, too narrow and with a "no, I'm not staying here" look. The second, a larger parking lot, also next to the water, was perfect. There are about five or six motorhomes and campers, a quiet atmosphere and a beautiful landscape.

Now we are here, with the fresh air brushing my snout, the water reflecting the sky and a silence that is only broken by the occasional bird. It is a quiet, beautiful and perfect place to stretch and sleep comfortably after a day full of castles, ruins and roads that make me feel like an intrepid explorer.