The Menacing Sheep of Malin Beg



Something about this shot really irritates me.

The lighthouse in the distance was manned once. Imagine that.

Near Malin Beg, County Donegal.


Hillberries: Baby Steps

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A pathetic spectacle to behold.

Baby stepping my shaky stick-man legs as far as they’d go. When they would go no further I dropped to my knees and crawled through soggy clumps of grass and sheep shit.

To stick my wincing face off the edge.

Hillberries: One Mans Path

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One Mans Path. Sounds a bit dramatic, but that’s that name of the track.

I saw two people there, in the distance, I waved to them, they just stared at me until some clouds came across the peak and clouded up the whole place with clouds.

And I didn’t see them again

… Very Mysterio of them.

The view on the way up is nice enough. Some of the graves in this area are over 6000 years old.

The land almost looks burnt from above when I looked north. Blasting the vibrancy in Lightroom exaggerated that… and makes the sky take the soothing colour of a fresh  urinal cake.

Slieve League, County Donegal.

The Gull

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The lady at the information center in Donegal is very helpful. She gives me a few paces to call for Tweed Jackets, some numbers to call for Accommodation, bus times and the things to see while I wait for the bus.

Some people in County Donegal take in short, sharp breaths before they speak. It sounds like a gasp.

This lady spoke in such a manner. Talking like her breath has just been taken away at the thought of some of the places in the county. She tells me to see the old Abbey down the road and the Castle in the center of town.

Here lies the ruins of a Church and an Abbey. In the remains of a corridor I found a seabird, sliced open and gutted.

It left me wondering who would have done a thing like that.

The graves are so stacked upon one another, I couldn’t get anywhere without walking on dead men.

I had hours to kill in this town before my bus. There was the large Castle in the center of town left to see…but I went to the Pub instead.

By the time my Bus had pulled out I was tipsy enough.

The sun had gone behind the clouds and the wind was coming up. I still needed to sort a place to stay. I couldn’t even say the name of the town I was going to.  The owners of my intended B&B had gone to Dublin. The new numbers I had received were not responding.

I had hours to kill in this town before my next bus. There was a harbor full of large fishing vessels… so I went to a dark Pub and drank with a bar of silver haired old fishermen until something came together.

And that wasn’t a bad day of travel overall.

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“You heading out?”

Nah I was on it earlier, too crowded now.

“Tide must have been pretty low…”

Yeeaaaaaaaap, she was a little hairy but I’d rather that than battle for scraps with those kooks

“Weren’t you at The Peak yesterday evening”

ohhh, might have been…

“I knew it. You were the scrub on the Mal! You rode a wave right into the ledge! The guy who kept trippin’ on his booties when he got up. ”

Aww… nope, not me mate.

Nope. I was out here….

Being cool.

Pulling in under the rock ledge.

Cos it was so dry.

The barrels…

The barrels I got.

You don’t wanna know.

…Too mad.