Sunday 4th October 2026
Cloghane to Famahore
Bloody forecasters got it wrong again and it’s a wet and windy morning greeting us for a day to be spent predominantly on the sands of the longest beach in Ireland. Needed to correct the mountain story about yesterday after a local on the beach confirmed its third highest behind two to the North with unpronounceable names.
Unfortunately we didn’t catch up with the young Irish lass who is related to a couple of golf buddies, but did finally confirm she worked there.
Enjoyed the now fabulous breakfast, albeit without the Irish Cream porridge, and donned the wet weather gear for our only hill of the day – out of town on the tarmac.
Seems the farming community has been hit by hard times with a raft of deserted homes being passed on the trip. The fishermen are also pretty peeved as most of their ports are filled with French boats who are maximising their quotas under EU trade arrangements. You best not mention politics over here they hate their own, EU and particularly DJT.
Made some swift progress on the road with the usual car dodging. For the first time we struck some significant forests which were dark and dank , with the mist plus wind making them ideal ammunition for a leprechaun story for the locals.
About 7 Kms in we turned onto Fermoyle beach , with its 11 km stretch earning the longest beach moniker. It was a pretty docile sea and the two points at opposite ends of the bay were joined by a rainbow.
Plenty of action on the beach with walkers, wind surfers, swimmers and the most laid back fisherman ever – laying back in a recliner with his 3 lines set.
The tide was creeping up the shoreline, but we were teassuted by a local we would make it, but there might be spots where you get your feet wet. Those couple of sentences turned into a 15 minute conversation including the question of whether we knew his cousin Paddy O’Rourke in Sydney.
He was right with the wet feet as we crossed three streams draining into the ocean which were about ankle deep and too wide to jump.
The dogs were loving the beach bounding into the surf and generally tearing about, no dead fish or birds for them to find but they did manage to come upon a dead grey seal.
The shore line dunes were covered with various stone and timber walls trying to resist the erosion. It was particularly impressive along the edge of the 9 hole golf course which according to locals is ranked in Top 20 – 9 hole courses in the world. Might just have to fact check that one after the mountain story.
Three or so hours in we found a lunch spot tucked into the dunes constructed of a surfboard, crab pot and rocks. It was a nice spot to take the packs off and get out of the wind on a day where low cloud and mist shrouded Mt Brandon which was back over our shoulder all day as a reminder of the long way up yesterday.
Soft sand walking is not made for rapid progress and the headland at beach end seemed to take an eternity to reach. Pretty ironic that we passed a Ned Kelly like statue as we popped up onto the rosd when we finished the sand.
Walked a while with a local having a chat about anything and everything for about15 minutes only to depart disappointed when he advised the pub didn’t open for 3 and a half hours. He did confirm the belief that Kelly was of Irish decent and was particularly proud of it.
With check in at 330 and with several other walkers arriving from Canada we decided to form a Commonwealth United NegotiationTeam and see if we could get an early access.
We were quickly disarmed by a lovely host who had us all in our rooms immediately , albeit with luggage until 400. It was great accommodation with amazing water views and a sauna and indoor pool in the Leisure centre. The place was abuzz with a function , so we cooled our heels in our room taking in the view.
Caught up with the emails and news back home before the luggage arrived and we could humanise ourselves.
Ended up traipsing back into town to the pub for dinner where again an Aussie lass was part of the team. We had actually talked to her earlier in the day when she recommended a pub in another town 15 minutes away. Having taken 15 minutes to get from accommodation we couldn’t be bothered going any further and opted to eat there.
Food and grog was plentiful, if not more expensive than elsewhere- guessing it was the old captive audience syndrome.
Wandered home in the dark chatting about the Canadian guy being responsible for designing / building the ski facilities for the Whistler Winter Olympics and testing out rides on Skeleton, Luge and Bobsleigh courses – I was nervous just listening.
Arrived home for our last sleep before walking the relatively flat 18 Kms to Camp tomorrow.
