We picked Donegal because of ancestral ties. We had great-great-great-great-great grandparents here for sure and, judging by Ancestry.com's analysis, plenty more. Perhaps a whole community!

Donegal town (as opposed to the county) has an oversized dot on the map in relation to its size. It's not even in the top 100 largest cities in Ireland, the population being less than 3,000.

Maybe dot size is related to historical importance? Or county seats? Or places where our ancestors are?

We arrived in the afternoon, checked in, and headed to town on foot. We made it across in fifteen minutes. Yep, our worries about navigating a big city were unfounded. Silly dot.

Across a bridge over a river, we discovered an ancient, ruined abbey and adjoining cemetery with some of its gravestones intact. The peaceful, beautiful walkway along the water ended abruptly, so we climbed a makeshift path to reach the graveyard since there didn't seem to be a better way in.

This site gave the impression of "ancient" almost more than Carrowmore because of the ruined walls, crumbling headstones, and barely-legible inscriptions. Equally spooky. But interesting and authentic.

We walked back toward the town center, past the central triangularly-shaped square (called, inexplicably, the Diamond) and looked for dinner.

Not many folk, tourists or locals, wandered the streets mid-week. Two different people at the hotel (one in the parking lot) had recommended The Reel Inn as it had live traditional music. We almost went. Another restaurant along the main street even advertised Irish dancing, but it all felt like an upsell and blatantly touristy and it repelled us just enough that we ended up having a burger at Toni's Bistro instead (with an absurdly large portion of wedge fries.)

We stunned the woman who served us (in her early twenties maybe) when we told her we skipped Galway to come to Donegal. She dreamed of going to Galway.

The first item on our agenda after our morning meal the next day (we were too full for the Irish Breakfast so settled for cereal, despite the array of options at the buffet) was to see if we could get tickets for a boat ride.

Although we were in shoulder-season approaching high-season, we got lucky.

The other passengers on the boat got a program, but no one handed us one! I went back to the staff woman at the entrance and she gave me a program. I took it back to my seat and we realized...

...the program was all in German.

Yep, almost every other tourist on the boat was from Germany.

We were glad we got there early enough to sit on the top deck (it seemed later that a few people might have been stuck below?)

The announcer who guided us around the bay seemed to be about thirty seconds behind the sights in question so I assumed it was a recording, but then I spotted him. He was sitting at the bar (yes, the boat had a bar of course) at the microphone holding a small guitar or ukekele. Turned out, he had hidden music talent, even if his information was a little delayed. As we headed back, he entertained the passengers, playing through the loudspeakers and singing folk songs, even one in German. Everyone but us sung along to that one, but it was entertaining to watch!

The ride was pleasant and the weather turned from windy and cool to warm and sunny by the end.

I never figured out why the American flag was on the boat. I almost didn't notice it at first because I'm used to seeing them everywhere. I'm sure it's for some political or financial reason.

There was an Irish flag flying on the other end of the boat, at least. For some reason, my brain kept seeing an Indian flag, but clearly, they don't look that much alike. Just a similar color scheme.

About an hour later, the boat dropped us back where we'd started on the dock.

As small as Donegal is, it's not too small for a castle...

The 5-Euro tour didn't take long, but the castle was fun to wander around in. Apparently, the spiral stairs were built unevenly "to confuse enemies." And one look at the original "toilet" made me happy about the invention of plumbing.

We got yummy takeout from The Blueberry Tearoom (one of the many cute restaurants near the main diamond / triangle / square) consisting of a hummus wrap and a slice of cake. Then we got in the car and headed due west.

Our destination: our ancestor's grave.

We followed directions given to us by a distant relative we discovered online. The church and cemetery in the small town outside Donegal were easy to find as they dominated the rural area, but the headstone was more of a challenge. We couldn't find a map of the graveyard in the church, so we walked through the marshy ground, reading headstones spanning centuries, looking for the right name.

Nothing matched.

We went back to the car, giving up.

At the car, we both felt an urge to give it one more look. After all, we were all the way out here and when would we get this chance again?

During my second pass, I swore I read every headstone in the yard. I found many with the same last name this time, but not the same first. I was wondering if we'd been mistaken or misled when all the sudden I heard, "I found it!"

A humble stone surrounded by much larger ones explained our difficulty. We picked some wildflowers growing the yard - daisies, purple thistles, and buttercups - and had a respectful moment of silence.

On our way back to the main route, we passed a couple other cemeteries, as if this was the "tourists looking for their ancestors" spot in Ireland, but perhaps we saw these because we were off the main roads and cities and into the rural area.

At a pretty spot overlooking the water in a town called Inver, we ate our modest lunch while being serenaded by local dogs.

Then we planned to follow the signs to Slieve League, another set of cliffs even taller than Moher, according to the guidebook.

That was the notion, anyway.

On the road, there was a lovely view from the hills, which I mostly ignored since we were on a typical Irish "R" highway, narrow and twisty and filled with locals who were more comfortable than we were with blind curves at high speed.

We passed through picturesque harbor towns like Killybegs and gorgeous green scenery as we drove west along the water.

Towns named things like this were not quite as confidence inspiring....

But all along the route, the signage was great. Just one highway. Nice and simple.

The brown signs we loved frequently appeared to remind us that we were going the right direction. You could not miss the signs.

Then...

We hit a detour.

Spoiler: the detour did not get us lost. I'd love to blame it, but the orange Diverted Traffic signs guiding us around the construction were clear. But the detour did enhance our appreciation for how wide our lovely "R" roads really were.

The detour was, thankully, relatively short. We were back on the oh-so-wide R263 in fifteen minutes.

So, by now you're wondering how I could have possibly missed the turn.

Yeah.

I cannot blame my navigator. At the proper turn off, sis goes, "There's the sign to Slieve League Viewpoint."

But I drove right past it, unconvinced. I didn't see a sign and the last sign I saw said 12km and it had only been 8 or 9. Also, it had *never* been called a Viewpoint on any previous signs and we passed a "Cliffs of Moher Viewpoint" sign a few days ago nowhere near the actual cliffs. Per our map, sis thought the road to Slieve League could be at the end of the peninsula after all. So we kept going.

The road got lonely. I followed a dump truck up and down a hill (good excuse to drive slow.) We reached the town of Glencolumbkille where the road ended at a T with no sign pointing the way. I turned right, but got immediately stuck between two construction trucks. A friendly local guided me since I couldn't see around, but I pulled off the road shortly after that, coming to two realizations: 1. I hadn't seen a Slieve League sign since that turnoff. 2, I hadn't seen a sign in English since then, either!

I guess you drive far enough to the edges of Ireland...

Anyway, we turned around, headed back the way we came, and immediately saw signs to "Sliabh Liag." Okay, we were back on track.

We consulted Lonely Planet and found some written directions that mentioned that the road to Slieve League was also the road to Teelin, so now we even had backup signs to follow! Yay! Well, sort of, if we figured out that "Teileann" was what we were actually looking for.

As per usual, the signs were easier to follow in the other direction. Only after we turned off at the correct location did it occur to me that the 12km meant the whole way there, not just the distance to the turnoff, d'oh.

After the turn, the road got narrower. A lot narrower. The giant tour buses didn't mind. After a one-lane bridge, we saw a potentially confusing sign leading to the "Slieve League Pilgrimage" which luckily we did not try to go to since it apparently involves intense hiking. The final bit of road was some very tight switchbacks (*very glad* we didn't meet the bus there) then we reached the bottom parking lot and parked!

(TripAdvisor hilariously has both strong recommendations to park in the lower lot and strong recommendations to park in the upper lot. I'd say lower unless the weather is bad or unless you don't want to walk less than a mile along a pretty road.)

Apparently, in the summertime, you may find a whole cafe and visitor's center at the base, but I think we're too early in the season. (And the only toilets were portable ones; the building was locked.) In any case, no entrance fee, hooray!

The road is great, not only because it is beautiful, but also because it increases your anticipation. Beyond every bend is a different view, but not the cliffs!

We overheard a guy on his way down say to a couple on their way up, "Once you get to the ice-cream truck, you've seen all you need to see. You can walk up 5 more minutes if you want, but nothing new."

I was pretty sure he was being silly.

Until I spotted the ice cream truck.

In any case, the stranger was correct. We reached the view of the cliffs right after the upper parking lot and ice cream truck and, indeed, the short hike continued up an adjacent mountain, but appeared to offer nearly the same view. We walked up part way before turning back.

These cliffs are said to be some of the highest cliffs in Europe, around three times the height of Cliffs of Moher.

Although they are indeed cool cliffs, they did not feel quite as impressive as Cliffs of Moher which, though they may be shorter, are steeper and much *longer*. Still, a lovely place and we lucked out on the weather - no rain!

On the way back, I again admired the stunning view.

We headed back down to the parking lot. Then navigated the steep switchbacks, noting the sign to the right, eeh gads.

We debated going back to Glencolumbkille and around the peninsula to make a loop (and avoid the detour) but noticed that the road was all rural, included few roads back to Donegal in case we missed a turn, and had a mountain pass. Since it was getting close to 6pm and dinnertime, we headed back the way we came.

And working hours must have been done for the day. The detour was gone!

The number of times we pulled over and let local cars pass us cannot be overstated. I was comfortable between 50 - 70 kilometers per hour most of the drive and, so, was possibly the slowest driver on the road that day.

We reached the hotel, quite tired. It's been a long trip! The hotel's dinner menu did not inspire us (and was pricy), but we found that we were perfectly happy with a chicken wrap and (amazingly) a Naked fruit juice from the nearby gas station.

The sign on the left was visible form the gas station. I looked it up. "Links Fahren" means "Drive Left" in German, so it was not just a coincidence that we were on a tour in Donegal with a boatload of Germans.

After having our small dinner in the hotel's fancy 2nd-floor sitting room, we decided to hit the hot tub.

The front desk lady insisted we had to buy a swimming cap to sit in the hot tub. The friendlier lady at the pool desk, however, said that we didn't need the cap for the hot tub, only the pool, which was good, because it seemed a silly thing to be forced to spend 2 Euro on. (But apparently, swimming caps are required in Ireland because of hygiene? Huh.)

We shared a hot tub with a Canadian who had lived in Colorado and was residing in west Ireland for several months for a golf tournament. He seemed friendly enough, until the conversation got to politics. Sigh. Over the sound of the burbling jets, he asked us what we thought of Trump. I said "We've been trying to forget about him" and the older fellow replied, "I don't like the man, but I like his idealogy." Whoo, boy. We stopped talking politics after that (a good thing, since someone might have gone down) and instead commiserated on the absurdly narrow, twisty roads in Ireland and how you can't take your eyes off the road even for a second. He said he was finally getting used to it and learning to drive a little more up to speed.

Despite being tired, we ended up staying pretty late on the not-super-fast internet planning out Londonderry and learning the history of the Ireland - N. Ireland conflict in our childhood so we weren't ignorant Americans when going to historical sites.

Before bed, we realized we both got sunburns! Don't underestimate the Irish sun, even if it hides behind clouds sometimes.

15,813 steps, 50 floors, 6.39 miles

Walking up to Slieve League definitely saved us here. Lower parking lot for the win!