Day 113: Lough Akkibon - Towney

Sleeping next to a five-star lake is priceless. Total silence, not a single annoying mosquito, not a single sleepless duck. I slept like a champion and my humans too. But of course, Ireland couldn't miss the opportunity to remind us where we were. It dawned raining, and not a little. So we stayed inside until the clouds got tired of crying. And just when it stopped, bam!, it was time to go out. What a good aim we have.

In about twenty minutes we arrived at a postcard viewpoint. From there you could see Dunlewy Lough shining between mountains and, next to it, the abandoned Dunlewy church, which looks like it's straight out of a gothic movie. I imagined ghosts walking through the windows, but it turns out that what we found was a couple taking wedding photos at the same viewpoint. Or that, or it was the actual ceremony, although there were no witnesses other than the three of us... Yes, it's a beautiful place to get married, surrounded by mountains and with the lake as the guest of honor.

Then we continued on our way, passing by Donegal airport. I stayed watching, to see if planes full of dogs left from there for paradise beaches. And speaking of beaches, a little further on we parked behind a dune and a paradise appeared before my eyes: smooth sand, so perfect that it seemed combed, and huge rocks that emerged like stone giants from the sea. I went crazy, ran like a rocket and left footprints everywhere. Of course, without ruffling the sand too much, as it was on display.

The journey continued along narrow, winding roads, the kind where Daddy Edu is as focused as if he were piloting a plane, while Uncle Javi silently prayed that nothing would come from the front. We stopped near Kincasslagh to eat in the camper. I took the opportunity to beg for my share, of course. Then the weather turned ugly again, gray clouds, rain at times, and we were expecting more than two hours of driving. I wasn't at all amused, but in the end we arrived at the visitor center of the Slieve League Cliffs, those very high cliffs that they say take your breath away. But seeing the gale and the rain, Daddy Edu said "better not try it". Uncle Javi sighed with relief and I nodded with a face that said "I knew it".

We looked for a place to sleep and after ten kilometers we arrived at a small port near Towney. There was a camper and a tiny caravan. Their owners turned out to be very nice: a German man who lives in Ireland and his Swiss friend, who came to fish in a canoe. Yes, yes, in a canoe. They put the boat in the water and spend hours trying to fool the fish. Daddy Edu chatted with them while Uncle Javi hid inside the camper, as if the rain was personally chasing him.

And here we still are. It's raining non-stop, the wind is blowing hard and I'm curled up in my corner, listening to the drops drumming on the roof. The port is quiet, almost like a secret hideaway. If it weren't for the sound of the wind, I would think we were in another luxury dog hotel, with private sea views.