Fall in Love with Donegal, The Wild West of Ireland

If Clint Eastwood lived in Ireland, he'd live in County Donegal. It's this utterly wild, rugged place filled with rocky mountains, fields of tough grass and boulders, sheer high cliffs, brutal crashing waves and endless wind pushing and pulling at you. It's like a tough, old cowboy - hard and weathered, speaking volumes without any words.

And then it surprises you with these small, hidden beaches of white sand and crystal blue-green water gently kissing the shore. These pockets of absolute serene beauty are even more heart-stopping because you don't expect such softness to exist in this formidable landscape. Like a tear running down a leathery cheek, it grabs your heart and suddenly you're lost in this place - completely taken in by the tough exterior that challenges you and the soft, hidden heart that is irresistible.

And so I fell in love with County Donegal in one glorious, scary, and surreal day.

The day started out different, with bright, pure sunshine pouring through the cottage window to wake me. I was used to the softer, filtered glow of the sun through mist on an Irish morning, so this was already a stunning change. I set off shortly after 9 AM with an old survey map of the peninsula I'd be exploring and my hostess' positively giddy description of the beautiful places I would see. Little did I know that her smiling face as she waved me down the driveway was just about the only human face I would see that entire day. Remote and unpopulated don't even begin to describe Donegal.

So off I went armed with a paper map, so well-used it was actually falling apart in my hands, my camera, my tiny electric-blue rental car (picture a four-door roller skate), a full tank of gas and my sense of adventure. Maghera Beach was my first destination, but naturally I turned right too early and ended up driving out a tiny little road along an adjacent peninsula. Having no idea I was "lost" yet, I simply took in the stunning views of the mountains, distant waterfalls, and romantic, crumbling, old, stone cottages dotting the fields and coast.

After an hour and a review of the sagging map, I realized I was looking across the estuary at my initial destination. But having learned by now to get lost gracefully, I found a quiet, rocky little beach and took a long walk across the rocks to explore the tidal pools and soak in the warmth of unobstructed sun.

And as I jumped from one slippery rock to another that looked closer that it was, I had my first reality check of many that day ... I made the jump, but how I didn't end up with a twisted ankle or worse is a miracle. It was then I realized that in my hour plus of driving and stopping to snap photos and explore the beach, I hadn't seen a soul, except sheep and horses. I decided to jump a bit more conservatively after that.

But the beauty of the day and adventures ahead called to me. So I made my way over a rustic, winding road, the world's least stable looking bridge, and finally down to the stunning, empty, white-sand and crystal blue waves of Maghera Beach.

And it was in this spot where I first started to fall hard and fast in love. The beach itself glowed in the sun and the blue water sparkled. And while the waves crashed endlessly against the rock cliffs to the left and the right, they gently rolled into the soft sand beach, as if to be gentle with this peaceful place. The duality of the scenery simply fascinated me. I was temped to stay there for the day, but settled for a few hours and a bit of "safe danger" exploring a cave exposed at low tide.

And from there I followed the two-way road, the width of one car, up a steep mountain. I paused at the top to enjoy a last look down to that beautiful beach. It was the last completely calm moment I'd have for a few hours. The road and not going over a cliff on one side or the other became a pretty clear focus, although I stopped periodically to take in the wild beauty around me (and to give my aching knuckles and the steering wheel a break).

Along the way I saw fences and occasional signs of people, but no actual people. And the sheep seemed to prefer to stay outside the fences and lay on the warm road. So while dodging sheep, like a game of Irish Frogger, I had my next reality check. A vivid imagination can be a incredible gift until you start to picture your car in a ditch with only some irritated sheep for help for miles and miles and miles.

Thankfully, my imagination is only beaten by my stubborn pride, so rather than turn around, I pushed back my fear (or sense) and drove onward. And with the view over the crest of one last hill, I fell the rest of the way in love with Donegal. The fall into love is breathless, thrilling, terrifying, glorious, elemental and ... You simply surrender to it and try to take it in.

Welcome to Au Port ... a rocky coastline of green fields flowing over the edge of cliffs to jagged brutal rocks, towering sea stacks and the endless battle of a glorious deep, dark blue ocean crashing against them. It defies description, so I simply sat and breathed it in, savoring the moments.

I don't know how long I sat there, but I was sad to drive away when the time came.

Once you're in love, flaws become charming virtues, right? So the ensuing drive over a road riddled with soccer ball sized boulders that should definitely have blown at least one tire was suddenly a fun adventure. And the horrid scraping sound from under the car was nothing to fear, despite a few spoken aloud "Oh God" prayers.

And once again, Donegal's rugged and tough exterior suddenly yielded to a soft and beautiful treasure, Silver Strand beach. Arguable the world's most perfect cove, the dark blue of the deep water fades to teal and then green as it gently glides into the crescent-shaped shore. The waves here are so gentle they barely make a sound. I was captivated all over again by the extremes of this place.

My final stop of the day came close to sunset and sealed the deal for life ... The Cliffs of Slieve League. They proudly tower over the ocean, taller than any other cliffs in the UK. And they love to show off in the sunshine, reflecting back colors and textures a painter would die to recreate. I sat in the setting sun and once again simply took it in. Slowly the tourists faded away and at sunset it was just me, Donegal and our love story.

You can fall a bit in love too via my <a href = http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10207192564671693.1073741833.1210374056&type=1&l=17b1255afc>pictures, but they honestly pale in comparison to the real thing. (And there may be a hilarious video of my drive over the "boulder road" for a lucky few to see ... one day.)