DUBLIN TO DUNGLOE

VIEW FROM JOYCE'S MARTELLO TOWER IN DUN LOAGHAIRE

TRIM CASTLE

CAR CAMPING BY RIVER ERNE

ENNISKILLEN CASTLE

MULLAGHMORE HARBOUR

MOUNTBATTEN MEMORIAL, MULLAGHMORE

FISHING BOATS AT KILLYBEGS

FESTIVAL IN DUNGLOE

OUTSIDE DUNGLOE PUB

Much refreshed on Thursday morning, we enjoyed an excellent breakfast at Tara Hall before venturing out to the waterside just a few minutes' walk away. We soon came across a Martello Tower in which the famous Irish author and poet James Joyce had briefly stayed. Neither of us had read any of his work (his most well known books being Dubliners, Ulysses and Finnegans Wake), but the exhibition within the Tower helped us appreciate his experimental use of language even if we failed to understand it.

We left Dun Loaghaire around midday to head north west. Rubi navigated us out of Dublin without us inadvertently straying onto the toll roads that encircle the Irish capital. Our first stop was Trim. This town was chosen simply because it was a suitable place to take a lunch break on our way to Enniskillen. It turned out to be a lucky choice because it is also the location of the largest Anglo-Norman castle in Ireland, and was used during the filming of Braveheart in 1994. Hundreds of Trim locals were employed as extras and Mel Gibson, who starred as William Wallace, was granted the Freedom of Trim in 2010.

By the time we were approaching Enniskillen it was time for us to look for a suitable spot to car camp. Luck was with us again because we quickly found an ideal location in a car park in Bellanaleck, right next to a marina on the River Erne. Supper was enjoyed by the moored boats, as was breakfast next morning.

The following day's drive initially took us to Inneskillen where the free town car park turned out to be right next to Enniskillen Castle (yes, yet another one). This one was really well looked after and contained all manner of historical artefacts, both military and archaeological, which kept us occupied for a couple of hours. We took a walk around the town, visiting the Buttermarket, had lunch on the green by the car park, and then departed for our next destination, which was Sligo.

We didn't actually stop in Sligo but just took a brief detour around it in the car before heading northwards along the coast. We stopped at the pretty harbour at Mullaghmore. It was only a few hundred yards out from the harbour that Lord Louis Mountbatten was assassinated in 1979 when a bomb, secreted aboard his boat Shadow V by the IRA, was exploded by remote control. We took the short walk to see the simple wooden memorial cross placed on the cliff overlooking Donegal Bay.

Our drive continued through Bundoran, Ballyshannon and Donegal. We would be following sections of a road route called the Wild Atlantic Way for the next few days.

By the time we reached Killybegs it was time to find a place for the night, and a free car park with no restrictions suited the purpose. Initially we were alone, but a short while later two more vehicles turned up with the same idea.

We explored Killybegs in the morning and discovered that it is Ireland's main fishing port, its catch being exported to many other countries. The deep natural draft of the harbour is suitable for the largest trawlers. From the new pier, built in 2004 at a cost of €50M, we watched a fishing boat come in and prepare to unload its catch. We would have liked to stay longer but the process was slow and it was time to move on.

We had intended to visit the cliff top viewpoint at Slieve League, but missed the turning. There were so many other places to enjoy beautiful views that it wasn't worth turning back. We stopped near Rossan Point instead.

Our target for the day was Dungloe, which we reached via Andara and Glenties. It was Saturday 5th of August and it turned out that we had arrived in the middle of the 50th Annual Mary from Dungloe International Festival. Lovely girls, both local and from other countries, but presumably with Irish roots, compete to be crowned 'Mary' for the year. In the town centre, there was an array of pictures of Marys going right back to 1968 in one shop window. We listened to a folk singer performing the song 'Mary from Dungloe' outside a pub. It is a lovely song that I knew well.

We made our supper in the car park of a local church and left the car there while we returned to the town centre in the evening to listen to duo, Danny & James, on the outdoor stage. Later back at the car, we decided to stay in the church car park overnight, ignoring the sign at the entrance that prohibited this. We reasoned that no right-minded Christian would kick us out in the middle of the night.

CAPEL CURIG TO DUBLIN

FRIENDLY DUCKS AT CAPEL CURIG CAMPSITE

CRIMPEAU SUMMIT

DUBLIN'S VERY OWN MOLLY MALONE

ON HA'PENNY BRIDGE, DUBLIN

CUSTOM HOUSE, DUBLIN

GUINNESS OUTSIDE GOGARTY'S BAR

MANCHESTER UNITED FANS IN HIGH SPIRITS

Tuesday the 1st of August and it was drizzling in the morning. Furthermore, the forecast predicted fog at altitude, so no views to be had if we climbed to one of the higher peaks. With no clear goal we took our time to get up and have breakfast. A group of ducks were wandering around the campsite and when they saw us eating they headed our way. They seemed to greatly appreciate the wholemeal bread and bran flakes that we offered.

The weather seemed to be improving.

A short distance from the campsite is an Ellis Brigham shop which offers 50% discounts on quality walking clothing. After over an hour of rummaging through just about everything, Rubi picked out a lovely down jacket and I found an excellent waterproof jacket and trousers to replace some of my worn out gear. Since it would be my birthday soon, Rubi bought me the jacket as a birthday present. Looks like I will be well dressed for my next walking leader appointment for HF Holidays at the end of the month!

It was now well past midday, and the weather was perfect for walking. We parked the car at Cafe Siabod in Capel Curig and I quickly devised a 4 hour route, much of it 'off piste', which would take us to the 475m summit of Crimpiau. It turned out to be a mix of scrambling to rocky peaks, bog walking and sliding our way down steep fern-covered slopes to a more walkable return path. Back at Cafe Siabod just after 6.00pm we rewarded ourselves with one of the substantial meals they had on offer.

We would be catching the ferry from Holyhead to Dublin very early the following morning, i.e. 2.40am, so we made our way to Anglesea. We stopped at a Lidl just outside the ferry port to resupply.  Rubi then had a doze in the car park whilst I nipped round the corner to the pub.

Once on board the 'Ulysses' we found a quiet corner under some stairs where we could lay down on our sleeping bags and get some sleep during the overnight journey.

We were driving off Ulysses by 6.00am and navigating our way through already busy Dublin streets to our pre-booked B&B at Dun Loaghaire (pronounced Dun Leary), 10km south of the ferry port.

We knocked on the door of Tara House Accommodation just after 7.00am to be greeted by Mike who told us that we were not expected until the following day and that they were full. Since the booking was made on the phone it was impossible to say whose mistake this was, but he did offer to tidy up a spare room which we could use if we didn't insist on en-suite bathroom facilities. We didn't want the hassle of looking elsewhere and the price he quoted was attractive so we accepted his offer.

We left our bags, parked the car and walked down the road to the nearest DART (Dublin Area Rapid Transport) railway station which took us quickly into Dublin City centre where we would spend the day. After a hearty breakfast at Kilkenny's store, we walked through the grounds of Trinity College, paid a visit to Molly Malone's statue and crossed Ha'penny Bridge. A walk along the north bank of the River Liffey took us Custom House, completed in 1791, which is now the home of the Department of Housing, Planning, Community and Local Government. Inside was a fascinating exhibition about its design and construction, then destruction by the IRA in 1921 and its subsequent rebuilding by the Irish Free State.

Walking back past the Famine Memorial then along the south bank we reached Temple Bar and found a seat outside Gogarty's bar where I could enjoy a Guinness. The cost of this was (in sterling) an excruciating £6 so I didn't complain about the £3 cost of Rubi's small glass of lime and soda. The bar opposite Gogarty's was packed full with rowdy Manchester United football fans so we guessed that they were here for an away game.

Given our early start and the limited sleep we had the night before, by the time the DART took us back to Dun Loaghaire we were in serious need of some good rest.

ELAN VALLEY TO CAPEL CURIG

CABAN COCH DAM

REMAINS OF NANT-Y-GRO DAM

WINDY BARMOUTH RAIL BRIDGE

OUR HARLECH CAR-CAMPING SITE

HARLECH CASTLE

AMAZING VIEWS FROM HARLECH CASTLE BATTLEMENTS

SITTING ON PONT-Y-PAIR BRIDGE IN BETWS-Y-COED

We had a restful night sleeping in the car at the Claerwen dam car park. Following breakfast we made our way back to another car park by the top of the Caban Coch dam, which is the one that immediately overlooks the Elan Valley Visitor Centre. I was keen to visit the site of yet another dam which involved a short walk along the other side of the Caban Coch Reservoir. This small dam, the Nant-y-Gro, was constructed around 1890 to provide water for a temporary village built to house the families of the workers building the main dams. By 1942 it was no longer required so it was used instead to conduct experiments to determine how much explosive would be required to breach it. This led to the development of the Bouncing Bomb, conceived by Barnes Wallis, which was deployed in the Dambusters raid to attack the Ruhr Valley dams a year later. The resultant flooding of Germany's industrial heartland significantly disrupted arms production for some months. The Nant-y-Gro dam was never rebuilt.

After a final look around the Elan Valley Visitor Centre, we headed west for a quick tour of Aberystwyth (dodging the rain) after which we continued on to Barmouth.

For Rubi and me, the most notable attraction in Barmouth is the railway bridge that crosses the River Mawddach estuary. There is a walkway attached to the up-river side of the bridge so a return crossing of its 699m span on foot seemed like a pleasant way to spend the early evening.

Our final goal for the day was to reach Harlech. We planned to visit the Castle the following day, but for now we just needed to find a discreet place to car-camp. Just as we parked in a suitable clearing up the road from Harlech Castle, the owner of the adjacent property turned up with his dog. He was in the process of bringing in his chickens for the night. A chatty gentleman, he not only confirmed that it was fine to park where we were, but he brought us a half a dozen eggs.

In the morning we fried a couple of our newly acquired eggs before walking down to the Castle, which was only half price to enter because of our English Heritage membership. It played a significant role in various conflicts between the English and Welsh, and its superb location offered spectacular views towards the sea from the walls and turrets.

Next, we drove further north into the heart of Snowdonia, initially looking around the outdoor shops in Betws-y-Coed and finally settling for the night at Dolgam camp site in Capel Curig. The weather forecast for the following morning kept changing, but we hoped that it would be suitable for a hill walk.

DESTINATION MID-WALES

FARLEIGH HUNGERFORD CASTLE

MAKE SURE YOUR HEAD-TORCH IS SWITCHED ON!

LOOK WHAT I FOUND DOWN THE MINE

HEADSTONES OF ABERFAN DESISTER VICTIMS

MONMOUTHSHIRE & BRECON CANAL

LOOKING FOR JAMES CORFIELD IN BUILTH WELLS

CLAERWEN DAM

A MINI INVASION

Thursday 27th July; I locked up the house and we departed for Wales at 11.15am. After driving for 10 minutes I remembered that I had left my computer on.

Rubi and I left the house for the second time at about 11.35am.

Thus commenced 19 days of driving through Wales to Holyhead, crossing over to Dublin on the ferry, heading up to the north western corner of the Irish Republic, zigzagging our way in a generally easterly direction through Northern Ireland to Belfast and then returning to England on the overnight ferry to Liverpool. Along the way we intend to visit as many new (to us) and interesting places as we can fit in.

Our destination on the first day was Pontypridd where my son, David, daughter-in-law Lisa and three of my Grandchildren live.

On the way, however, we visited Farleigh Hungerford Castle, making full use of our recently acquired English Heritage membership. The castle is a ruin now, but the stories about the fortunes of the Hungerford family were fascinating, particularly the one about Lady Agnes murdering her first husband and using the bread oven to dispose of the body.

We reached David and Lisa's house in the early evening to the excitement of Grandchildren Oliver and Saffir. Cai was away canal-boating so we were able to use his room.

Lisa had to work on Friday so David drove the rest of us to Pwll Mawr, Welsh for Big Pit, in Blaenavon. This disused mine is now preserved as the National Coal Museum, and a hugely interesting visitor attraction it is. Saffir was just tall enough to be permitted to descend in the cage with the rest of us. Equipped with head torches, we were guided through the tunnels and enlightened as to what it would have been like to work down a coal mine. Pretty grim by all accounts. Up until the mid 1800's, the children of miners, some as young as five, were employed as 'trappers' to open and close the tunnel doors in the pitch dark for 12 hours a day, all for the paltry wage of two pence a week. They didn't usually see the money though since their fathers would normally collect it along with their own wage.

The following morning we said farewell to the family and drove to Aberfan where, on 21 October 1966, a colliery spoil tip collapsed killing 116 children in the local school and 28 adults. There is now a Memorial Garden where the school was. A short distance away is the cemetery, where headstones in the form of stone arches identify the graves of the victims.

We continued northwards and stopped at Brecon for a brief tour. Continuing along the A470, we also stopped at Builth Wells, where they were searching for a missing teenager. Sadly, a body was found in the local river the following day which was later identified as that of James Corfield, the missing boy.

We then proceeded to the Elan Valley Visitor Centre near Rhayader. This beautiful area is the location of five reservoirs that were constructed to provide clean water to the Birmingham area. One of the dams, the Claerwen, was built in 1946 and its construction involved the use of Italian stonemasons since all the British ones were busy repairing the House of Commons and other buildings in London following the Second World War.

We found a quiet car park where we could sleep in the car near the Claerwen dam - at least we thought it would be quiet. Shortly after we had eaten supper what seemed like an endless stream of Minis came tearing into the car park, and then parked side by side in neat rows alongside us. Apparently this was some International Mini owners club on an evening jaunt. It was quite a spectacle, but we were happy to see them go so that we could get some sleep.

LAST THINGS & HOME

OUR SIN ROOM BALCONY

TAXI TO MARRAKESH

NEAR CAFE DES EPICES

AT CAFE DES EPICES

SOMEONE WANTS OUR FOOD

HORSE CARRIAGE IN THE FNA

BYEEEEEE MARRAKESH

We returned from our Toubkal trek to enjoy our last night at Douar Samra. Rashida had arranged for a Grand Taxi to take us back to Marrakech in the morning. We settled our drinks bill and packed our cases, handing them over for Jules to carry up to the road. Saying goodby to the staff was like saying farewell to friends. Even the owner, Jacqueline, came out to give us a hug.

Our driver dropped us off close to the Grand Taxi rank in Marrakesh at around 1.00pm. It had been hot in Tamatert, but it was even hotter at the lower altitude. We were staying in Riad Casa Sophia again for our last night in Morocco so we left our cases with Medhi, as before, freeing us to take a further walk around the souks during the afternoon. Rubi had hoped to buy a leather bag for herself and some gifts for friends, and I wanted to get a tagine dish, but we couldn't find what was wanted at the right price. Being continually hassled by stall owners became tiring after a while so we walked to the south of the Medina where it was a bit less oppressive.

During the evening we found an excellent restaurant close to Casa Sophia where we enjoyed such good tagines that we returned the next day to take a long relaxing lunch there. We spent several hours 'people watching' before returning to Casa Sophia mid-afternoon for the last time.

We were concerned that the taxi company we had engaged for airport transfers would be as unreliable on the return trip as they had been when we arrived. Medhi phoned them for us to say that we were ready anytime. They were on time, but not at our accomodation. We ended up having to walk half a mile, dragging our cases again in the swieltering heat, to meet the taxi driver near Koutoubia Mosque.

The drive to the airport was short. Just as well as the taxi driver was holding his phone to his ear with his left hand and changing gear with his right. Occasionally he touched the steering wheel. At the airport drop-off point I had the feeling that he was hoping for a tip.

TOUBKAL (ALMOST)

BIRTHDAY GIRL

TAMATERT VALLEY WALK

SETTING OUT TOWARDS TOUBKAL

SIDI CHAMHAROUCH

MOUNTAIN REFUGES

SNOW ON THE WAY TO TOUBKAL

ROCKY ROAD

FRIENDLY BABY GOAT

Saturday, and it was Rubi's birthday. We had intended to walk to the Refuge at the base of Toubkal today, but thunderstorms were predicted during the afternoon so we decided to take a shorter walk further up the Tamatert Valley instead.

We saw several cyclists puffing and panting their way along the steep road that zigzagged its way up the valley. However, by following a more direct off-road walking route that cut across the zigzags we were able to climb faster than they were. At last we reached a col called Tizi n'Tamatert where there was a hut selling cold drinks. We did walk a little further with the intention of reaching Adrar Tamalaroute, the peak that overlooks Tamatert from the north, but the sound of thunder sent us scurrying back to the hut for a cold drink – reaching it just before the first rain shower started. The moment it cleared we continued our way down, managing to reach Douar Samra before the second and more prolonged rain shower commenced.

The following day's weather was predicted to be excellent so we spent our evening packing our rucksacks in readiness for our 'expedition' to Jebel Toubkal. At 4,167m, Jebel Toubkal is the highest mountain in Morocco. Our plan was to spend a day walking to the French Alpine Club Refuge at the foot of the mountain, where we would spend the night, and then consider whether to climb it early the following morning.

We set off from Samra at about 10.00 am. The skies were cloudless and it was very warm. Our walk took us through Aremd and we eventually reached the waterfalls at Sidi Chamharouch where we took refreshments. Continuing on, the scenery became progressively more rugged and spectacular as we became surrounded by the high mountains, and in spite of the blazing sun there was snow on them.

Indeed, as we continued our climb it became cooler, which helped, but on the other had the air was becoming a little thinner, which didn't. We were pleased to see the Refuge come into view, although I had slight headache by then, probably because of dehydration and the altitude.

We booked into the Refuge. The dormitory comprised just a lot mattresses pushed together on two levels - kind of a huge communal bunk bed. Fortunately the Refuge was far from full so we were able to find a couple of mattresses together by a window in the corner. We didn't order supper from the Refuge because we had brought our own food, but when we saw what the other guests were served up we regretted that decision.

In order to climb Toubkal and then get back to Samra we would have to get up really early and start climbing while it was still dark. I decided to have a go while Rubi chose to stay at the Refuge and wait for me. Thus, I packed my rucksacks with only the most essential equipment for the climb and set the alarm for 3.00 am.

At the appointed time I crept out of the dormitory, ate breakfast and set off by torchlight. The path was quite difficult to follow in the dark, but there were others doing the same thing and I could see their head torches ahead of me. I crossed a steam to meet with the first major obstacle which was a steep scree slope. This seemed to take ages to climb. Indeed, it took so long that as the sun began to rise and in the morning light I could see that there was a better route I could have taken. Joining it involved getting around a large patch of hardened snow.

I continued climbing until I got to a saddle which overlooked the Refuge and realised that two hours had gone already. I was feeling a little nauseous, had a mild headache and the climb had already exhausted me. The combination of thin air at altitude plus an iffy tummy had undermined my fitness and I concluded that continuing would be unwise. Even if I had reached the summit, I would have taken so long that Rubi and I would have been unable to manage the walk back to Samra in time for supper.

Thus, at about 6.30 am I started to make my way down again by the easier route I has spotted on the way up. Even so, it was 8.30 am before I got back to the Refuge. Rubi was up and about chatting to another walker named Joseph, and I had a short doze to replenish my strength in preparation for the walk back.

Thus, at 10.00 am we started our long trek back down the valley towards Imlil. We stopped at Sidi Chamharouch for lunch to share a tagine before continuing onto Aremd. My headache had almost gone by then. The last bit of the walk involved an uphill climb on the road between Imlil and Tamatert. By the time we reached Samra we were totally worn out and parched. Rashida fetched us a couple of cold Coca Colas which we gratefully guzzled on the shaded balcony of our room.

Whilst I may not have reached the summit of Jebel Toubkal, the pair of us were satisfied that we had enjoyed a spectacular, if exhausting, adventure in the Atlas Mountains. This would be our last night in Tamatert before returning to Marrakech.

DOUAR SAMRA

TAXI ARRIVAL IN TAMATERT

JULES CARRIES THE BAGS DOWN

DOUAR SAMRA

THE SIN ROOM

LOCAL ART

NEVER SAW IT OPEN THOUGH

CLIMBING OUT OF IMLIL

TRUCK IN NEED OF ASSISTANCE

SHELTER FROM THE RAIN

SUPPER AT SAMRA

I managed to keep the destination for Rubi's birthday treat a secret for a while, but it was necessary to tell her when it came to getting the relevant immunisations. Morroco is certainly not rife with infectious diseases, but it is advisable to have jabs for Hepatitis A and Typhoid, and make sure your Tetanus is up to date.

It took us about 20 minutes to walk from Casa Sophia to the Grand Taxi rank, dragging our suitcases behind us. I had expected a local to offer assistance (for a price, of course) but nobody did. Perhaps it looked too much like hard work.

We explained to one of the taxi drivers that we needed a ride to our guest house, Douar Samra, in Tamatert. He didn't know where Tamatert was so I showed him the map. He said he could drop us in nearby Imlil, but from there to the guest house was just a rough track and we would need a horse to take us. Having done our research we insisted that the road was sufficiently good for him to take us all the way by car. After consulting his colleagues he finally agreed. Next was the question of price. After a little haggling we settled on what we knew to be the reasonable price of 400 Dirham - about £32.

The ride out of Marrakech was initially along wide, straight and well-maintained roads but as we started climbing the foothills of the Atlas Mountains the roads became narrow, snake-like and pot-holed. We enjoyed the magnificent views out the windows when we were not otherwise preoccupied with the precipitous drops that edged the road.

Rubi helped the driver to navigate the last couple of kilometers to Tamatert. An elderly local gentleman was waiting by the side of the road where we eventually stopped. On establishing who we were he disappeared momentarily before returning with a mule called Jules who would carry our cases for us. We thanked and tipped the taxi driver who seemed pleased that he had achieved what we had asked of him and insisted on a photo shoot before departing. We then followed Jules down the steep slope to the entrance to Douar Samra where we were greeted by the staff - Muhammad, Rashida and Omar - before being ushered to the lounge and given mint tea.

Douar Samra is owned by a Swiss lady called Jacqueline Brandt who built the house on the site of a previous ruin using local labour. The house is constructed in traditional Berber style with mud walls and bamboo ceilings. Furnishings are also traditional Berber with colourful rugs and seating cushions on the floor, and tables of a height that would suit people sitting cross legged.

Our room was called the Sin Room (don't ask me why) and it was furnished in a similar fashion to the rest of the house. The room had two balconies and the en-suite shower and toilet were in separate alcoves with blankets draped across the entrances to serve the needs of privacy. All lighting was provided by candles since there was no electricity. We quickly settled in and, having been advised when supper would we served, took a walk to explore the immediate area.

Supper was a communal affair with a family group from Salisbury, Wiltshire, and a Belgian/German couple. The food included beetroot, potato gratin and beef kofta.

The following morning we walked downhill to take a look around Imlil, and then we located the path that would take us south to Toubkal, the highest mountain in Morocco. We followed the path for about 4 kilometres and might have gone further had we not been deterred by the sound of thunder. We turned around and got as far as the village of Aremd before the rain turned from light to heavy. We sheltered for a while in what was probably a mule's stable before a young girl came out and ushered us into her home. We were sat in the family room and given blankets for warmth while her mother prepared mint tea for us.

When the rain stopped we thanked our hosts and left a small amount of money and some sweets for the children before continuing on our way. We finally got back to Douar Samra in good time for a shower before supper.