After our Saturday round and lunch in the clubhouse, we headed due North to the head of Malin, the northernmost point in Ireland. We fortuitously ran into Captain Patrick as we were leaving the club, and he told us of a turn that would take us on a small road to the highest vistas.
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| The road less traveled, top. Looking south towards a cute church and cemetary that we would later visit, bottom. | |
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| More Irish eye candy. |
And finally to the end of the Earht, at least Irish Earth.
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| Malin Head has a rish history in the defense of the Island from all sorts of petential invaders, and we've been told there's all sorts of armament buried in the waters. The locals have marked the northernmost spit of land for wandering pilots, top, and there's all sorts of ruins to be found on the road there, bottom. |
At about 8:30 that night, Theresa suddenly blurted out, "Husband, take me to the beach." Despite the beatdown she had inflicted on me earlier in the day, it seemed a reasonable request and we trundled down to Pollan Bay with many other residents and visitors. It was far too cold for T to dip her toes in the water, but we were treated to a bright, partial moon coming in and out of the clouds. We slept well.
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| The best spot to end our days in Ballyliffin. |
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