Monday 5th October 2026

Famahore to Camp Junction

Managed a fair bit of nightly exercise slapping the swarm of flies that had basically overtaken our room overnight.  Wasn’t much different in the Dining Room and can only imagine it’s the smelly kelp on the beach outside that attracts them.

Had my first Irish Breakfast (only a 1/2) of the tour and it was ok- I was still craving my Irish Cream porridge.

The day’s trip was rated as moderate , but having pulled up 5 Kms short yesterday it meant almost 20 Kms on beaches and country lanes followed by side stepping routes along major routes.

Vasco was working overtime trying to plot the shortest route possible to keep us off main roads and onto beaches.

Worked out way through some sleepy backroads with paddocks full of cattle and horses and the paths getting a workout from people giving their dogs a run.

Well all of those scallops on the menu last night could only have come from one place and that was the first beach we walked on. Most of the boats that filled the harbour were missing and plying their trade of the coast. The beach was littered with shucked scallop shells, with enough to keep the Camino walkers of Spain supplied for a year.

The sandy beach was getting encroached by the tide and seaweed and we were soon up on the erosion mitigation pebbles which made for slow and slippery progress. 

The track returned to the beach and we were soon upon a water park with paddle boats, kayaks, surfboards and beached pontoons. It had the obligatory saunas for those wanting to warm up after a bracing swim.

Again Mt Brandon , shrouded in cloud, had a never ending presence over our shoulders and a memory of the climb and aching muscles of days gone by.

After just on 2 hours we arrived at Castle Gregory the official finishing point for yesterday. It was a fabulous little village where we enjoyed a midday coffee and cake with a lovely Irish couple. They were just preparing for a game of golf at that, now confirmed, famous 9 hole course for a mere €100- it was their second day in a row and they were effusive in their praise of a ‘ wonderful windswept layout’.

Today’s walk beckoned so it was off down a country lane picking blackberries as we wandered along a lane just wide enough to walk two abreast. 

The countryside is dotted with a mixture of derelict old farm buildings and some grand buildings, many of them converted old barns.

Finally found the beach which flowed off into the distance with the tide continuing to encroach.

With many a stream to cross where it met the sea it was a matter of taking boots off and walking barefooted, sometimes on heaps of seaweed which felt like cotton wool under the feet.

If we had led an errant teenage lifestyle you might say we were back on the weed again.

No other walkers in sight but a few joggers, dog walkers and a lone swimmer. He didnt stay lone for long as we were progress bound by the tide, so it was into nude bathing mode for me to enjoy what could be described as bracing weather. There was definitely a George Costanza shrinkage moment. 

Didnt think anything was caught on camera until seeing Jane’s FB post – never trust a woman pretending to be eating a sandwich when the silver foil is secreting a camera.

Didn’t last long in the water so it was lunch watching the tide ebb out before a barefoot scramble across some rocks for more beach walking.

Reached the last ‘stream crossing ‘ and it was flowing waist deep like the Colorado River, which meant backtracking about 600 metres on talc like sand to a bridge leading to a Caravan Park. 

Donned the shoes again and went up past the park, almost devoid of patrons. One thing that did make us giggle was a Gypsy caravan reminiscent of the one we stayed in about 12 years ago in Rome.

The quiet road led us onto a busier road which meant frequent trips onto the edge and amongst the blackberries(not all that bad when you can grab a few for sustenance).

Had to laugh at the sign on the local rifle range 

Redwood Rifle Club – No Shooting.

Only in Ireland.

A half an hour of dodging ended up in the pub at Camp Junction and the official walking end to the Dingle Way. Managed a celebratory G and T, with owner saying

‘Just pay when you come back for dinner’. Can’t imagine that happening back home.

Up to be greeted by the garalous owner and faith dog Hugo before starting to work out what needs a good wash when we get to Dublin and what is wearable.

Had dinner and a few drinks with a couple from Canada who we have met along the way, before an early night knowing the boots won’t be scootin tomorrow.