Before I traveled Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Way, I had no idea that a road could capture my heart.
The Wild Atlantic Way is more than just a picturesque road, spanning more than 1,500 kilometers along Ireland’s untamed west coast. It’s a meandering, windswept trip through little villages, culture, cliffs, and some of the most hospitable people you’ll ever encounter. I had high expectations for the trip when I made the reservation. I didn’t anticipate how attached I would feel to the land and how many memories I would bring back with me. It will always be a trip I will never forget, but, of course, I did forget something: gifts.
The Forgotten Souvenirs
Somewhere around Killarney, it dawned on me that I had totally forgotten to buy gifts for my friends and family back home. No magnets. Not a single keychain. Not even a t-shirt that reads “Kiss Me I’m Irish.” I suppose it’s a good problem to have, but I was too engaged on occasion to shop.
At that moment, I recalled ShamrockGift. Prior to the trip, I had perused their website, and I made the decision to return as soon as I had reliable Wi-Fi. And whoa—a lifesaver.
In a matter of minutes, I had a Celtic tote bag for my sister, an Aran knit scarf for my mother, and a Donegal tweed cap headed to my dad. My best friend has always desired a Claddagh ring, so I even got her one. The website included genuine Irish-made gifts that didn’t feel like afterthoughts—and they shipped straight to the U.S., which made it super easy.
The Journey Begins: County Donegal
Now, the trip itself…
It began in County Donegal, where the sea seems to be a natural part of the atmosphere. The roads appeared to go on forever, and the sea mist welcomed me each morning like an old friend. I made a halt at the magnificent sea cliffs known as Slieve League, which are comparable to the more well-known Cliffs of Moher. I felt little in the greatest way as I stood at the edge and watched the waves crashing on the rock hundreds of feet below.
Quiet Moments in Sligo and Mayo
The route then led me through Sligo, where I had tea in a little café playing Van Morrison music while hiking the trails close to Benbulben. I strolled down the beaches of Achill Island in Mayo, my boots sinking into the damp sand, the wind pulling at my coat, and my mind unusually silent. It had the feel of a story-telling location.
Connemara followed.
This portion of the trip deserves its own narrative. I wanted to stop every five minutes because of the area’s untamed, natural beauty, which included fjords, peat bogs, and infinite hills. Yes, I did. Frequently. At a farm outside of Clifden, I got to know a sheepdog named Finn, and the landowner allowed me to observe a demonstration. It was straightforward, lovely, and somehow among the highlights of my journey.
Galway: A City That Dances
Then there was Galway, of course. The city was alive with color, laughing, and music. It was like strolling through a celebration, complete with street entertainers, handcrafted goods, and that renowned Galway spirit. To commemorate that sensation, I purchased a small silver ring with a Celtic knot design from a market there.
Final Stops Along the Way
The Wild Atlantic Way seemed like the cover of a travel magazine at every turn. I discovered locations that seemed old, significant, and alive in addition to being aesthetically pleasing, such as the Loop Head Peninsula in Clare and the Dingle Peninsula in Kerry.
I slept in a comfortable guesthouse in Doolin while listening to fiddle music coming from the bar across the street. I watched the dawn rising over the Aran Islands as I awoke. Even though you knew you would never forget it, it was one of those times you try to really savor.