What a wondrous sight beheld us in the morning; we discovered that just over a low stone wall and across a hundred metres of grass lay the sea! It was such a shame that it was raining so we couldn't go out for a closer view. We had a lovely cooked breakfast and I discussed the road rules of turning right across traffic with our host who smiled and said the other drivers were just being courteous…how very Irish. I still think they weren't taking any chances with a possible tourist in a hire car!

The day was cold and drizzly as we set off, but eventually the rain cleared so we could enjoy the scenery as we motored on to Donegal. It was fascinating to drive past ancient tumbled-down stone buildings and castles in the middle of some farmer's paddock…certainly something we don't see in Australia. I had doubts about the navigational skills of our satellite navigator as the road narrowed again to a single lane. Black faced sheep, with different coloured paint sprayed on their fleece, stopped grazing for a moment, and from behind the safety of a fence stared at us as we drove past…I'm pretty sure they hadn't seen many vehicles before.

As the road snaked its way around a beautiful lake, it become little more than a track with brush very close to the edge and trees overhanging the track. It was a pretty deserted area, we hadn't met any other vehicles and it was actually a little scary. Suddenly a vehicle zoomed up from behind and managed to overtake us in a break in the thick brush and stopped bang smack in the middle of the track in front of us. I thought "This is it, we've somehow managed to trespass on some backwoods farmer's land and we're gonna die!"The panel van had its back doors open and two big farmer types sat with their legs dangling out the back. It put me in mind of Dad and Dave, only in a menacing way. I slowly edged our car closer and asked if it was OK that we were driving on this road. For the life of me I couldn't really understand what they were saying, but as they were smiling and nodding I guessed it was. We said "Thanks", smiled and waved and hightailed it out of there…a little shaken.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful and we arrived in Donegal on nightfall (in the rain) and found our hostel, the Donegal Town Independent Hostel on the outskirts of the town. The owner of the converted farm house was Australian, and surprisingly, it was good to hear a familiar accent. We headed back into town in search of Guinness pie (well I was in search of it) and some good Irish jig music in a typical Irish pub. Can you believe it, there wasn't a Guinness pie on any of the menus…and the music was on the next night at the couple of pubs we visited. When we walked through the doors, the locals stopped drinking and turned to stare at us…obviously we weren't locals…though in fairness I'm sure this happens in all small town pubs around the world. The image I had of downing a pint of Guinness (even though I don't like it) in a jolly Irish pub with rollicking Irish jigs drowning out the lilting Irish voices was shattered…maybe it's like kangaroos hopping down the streets in Australia…it just doesn't happen.