Erris Head Loop

Its a 3.5 hour drive to Erris Head in Mayo but some days the gods make it worth your while. Garth Brooks was playing Croke Park and we had tickets for an outdoor theatre show in Belmullet tidal pool so we headed west.

Erris Head is familiar to anyone who listens to weather forecasts. It is one of the extremity points used by forecasters to mark the absolute edge of Ireland. It is located the far side of the Nephin Beg National Park, which is considered the wildest place on this island. Wild as in remote, uninhabited, empty. The next parish beyond here is New Foundland. Good weather is rare here so when it comes you have to make the most of it.

The Erris Head loop is located the far side of Belmullet down a boreen. The road rises gradually and then suddenly drops to a stop at a stop at a nice little car park with a covid coffee trailer, one of those rusty wild atlantic way wavey poles and two portaloos. This is an inlet with steep steps descending to the narrow cove below. An old winch lies rusting in the grass, probably used for pulling boats up the steep slope.

errih head car park

This section is known as the Danish Cellar – named not after the Danes, but the Tuatha De Danaan, the legendary tribe of gods who live underground in Ireland. It’s a rare reference in this part of the island as Mayo is more associated with the Fir Bolg, the people who established the High King system. A quare bunch as my mother refers to them.

We cross a stile and follow a worn grass trail along the side of a field, rising rapidly. A fence keeps us away from the steep cliffs on our right as the view starts to widen out. The Atlantic stretches out into the distance as we get higher, the horizon filling up our views. Robins follow us, darting from post to post as we walk. A group of fisherman carrying rods are on their way back. They carry some sort of big fish wrapped in bin liners – no great surprise as the waters around here are some of the richest in Ireland when it comes to fish.

We climb across another metal stile and the long field grass disappears, replaced by spring loaded turf topped with pale upland grass kept trim by the sheep that graze here. A boardwalk takes us across the boggier section. I do like a good boardwalk and appreciate the lengths that people will go to make walking more pleasant for walkers. It’s a bone dry day but there is enough water flowing under here to make you wonder what it must be like in wetter conditions.

erris head boardwalk

To our right we can see the great cliffs of Benwee Head further north on the peninsula. 255m higher than the Cliffs of Moher, they take their name from the yellow shade produced by quartzite rocks. Out beyond that are the four sharp edges of the Stags of Broadhaven reaching 70m out of the water like some ancient sea-monster. At first glance you would be forgiven for thinking you were looking at Skellig Michael. They have the same jagged air of remote inaccessibility, but these are nearer to land than the Jedi Rocks.

They are more inhospitable though and not even the craziest Christian ever considered building a beehive hut on one of them. They can be visited by kayak though. The Stags have enough sea arches and underground tunnels to attract modern day adventurers. While we were taking the air on Erris Head there was a pair of adventurers getting themselves trapped nearby in a cave at Downpatrick Head. What I liked about the Stags was the way the light hits them different every minute of our walk.

stags of broadhaven benwee head

The trail rises gently so it is easy walking. The ground is like those spongey playground surfaces that protect children when they fall. We take way too much pleasure watching each other walking and seeing the ground spring back up after each foot rises. The horizon expands on and on in every direction. One side is the Atlantic and the other is the Nephin Beg range. In between is just watery wildness or bog wildness – take your pick. I wish I knew more about either places but to me it is the vastness that impresses. On a still day it is calm and serene. On a wild day it must be an explosion of the elements. In places we can see where the wind has given the turf a short-back-and-sides haircut.

erris head turf

We follow the black poles that line the trail. It is well-worn and you could probably navigate by the sheep poo that lies along it. Reaching the top of one side we can see more sea below and the red sandstone where Illandavuck Island (David’s Island) is sliced off from the head. The gap here is so narrow that you wouldn’t even know it’s an island unless you went close to the edge. That was probably where the fishermen spent their day.

To our right, the headland has the wonderful name of Gubastuckaun, or the point of the Little Sea-Stack. The sea is calm, perfect conditions for looking at the dolphins, seals, whales and porpoises that make this area a Special Area of Conservation. Once again I regret leaving my binoculars at home. I am coming to the age where I can think of nothing better than sitting on a cliff scanning a blue horizon for a few dots and going “would you look at that”. I make do by spotting a sheep with a lame leg and listening to the sea-birds laugh at me.

illandavuckan island erris head

Like the Sheepshead Way, the Erris Head loop crosses private farmland and it closes for one day in the year. There are no dogs allowed as it is a working sheepfarm. So we were not too surprised to meet two farmers on their quad driving along the trail. The sheepdog running beside them on a lead was funny though. They stopped to say hello and we told them about the lame sheep.

farmers on quad erris head

Skirting the point of Illandavuck, the poles take us along a one-sheep track to the other side of the headland. There is no fencing here so you can walk right out to the edge where the rocks tumble down to the sea. Spindly green and yellow lichen bloom on the rocks, washed by rain and spray and dried to a crisp by sea breezes and wind. The stones here are different to the solid limestone I am used to. They are pink and white flaky things that feel like a good boot would split them. Some are so white at first we thought they were painted markers. Others sparkle in the sun, full of mica, minerals and acidic rocks. These sort of rocks produce great cliffs and are also markers for natural gas. Somewhere out there, the controversial Corrib Gas line is running through the waters where the Children Of Lír supposedly ended their days singing their sorrowful song on the waves until St Brendan freed them.

pigeon rock erris head

The view from here is stunning with the great expanse of the flat ocean. A few hundred metres away from the land’s edge is Pigeon Rock, another triangular outcrop surrounded by swirling whitewater. A few sea-stacks stand close to the cliffs, cleaved by erosion from the mainland by the incessant force of the sea. You are facing south here, back down along a coastline that juts out into the Atlantic like a hammerhead and which takes the full brunt of the gales that sweep in here. There is not a tree in sight, and it reminds me of Grace Devit, a local woman who lived to the age of 122 without ever seeing a tree. The lighthouse buildings are visible on Eagle Island in the distance. Once manned by families, it is fully automated now. It was built in the 19th century to keep boats away from the dangerous coast. The storms get so fierce here that twice in its existence the waves rose up as far as the top windows and extinguished the lights.

eagle island off erris head

There is not a breeze today. We follow the poles inland next, climbing the steepest part of the trail. Flocks of sheep move, piss and sit back down again as we move through them. We reach a World War 2 lookout post, another one of these concrete bunkers that are dotted around the coast of Ireland. Below it is one of the “EIRE” signs that were spelled out with white rocks to be visible in the night sky. They were designed to signal to Americans that they had reached Europe and to remind Germans that this was not the island they were looking for.

emergency lookout erris head

From here the poles bring us downhill towards Ooghwee Cove before turning up towards a trig point which is the highest point of the loop. We are back walking on springy turf. We rest at the trig point for a while and drink the last of our water, watching the evening sun turning the Mayo landscape into shadowed contours. There is nobody to be seen or heard as far as the eyes can see, not unless you count sheep or sea-birds. Open landscapes like this are alien to me but I like their expansive nature. There is something fresh and wild about the 360 degree views and the lack of noticeable road.

view from trig point erris head

The trail runs downhill again, back towards the narrowest section of the cove. It looks like it would be great fun to explore despite all the signs telling parents to keep children away from the edge. From here the trail heads straight across towards the boardwalk again and down to the car-park. As we descend, Delphine is convinced that she can hear booms coming from the base of the cliffs. She is probably right and I make a note to get my hearing checked.

ooghwee cove erris head

Google Maps: 54.28866981868364, -9.988689349740364

Distance: 5.3 km

Time: Two hours

Type of walk: Grass trail.

Views: Nephin Beg range, Broadhaven Bay, Blacksod Bay

Animals: Sheep, fulmar, kittiwakes, skuas and gannets.

Humans: 7

Plant of the Day: Bog Heather

bog heather erris head

Score: 8/10

This was my first time rambling in the Heather County and it looks like another place that you could spend a lifetime exploring.

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