(Back) Rachel, Pauline, Pauline, Caroline, 

(Front) Julie, Robyn, Shirley

We’re a diverse bunch travelling together. Five guests – two Paulines, a Julie, a Shirley and a Robyn. Plus myself (writer, photographer and kitchen hand); Rachel (Walk the West of Ireland tour leader, organizer, driver, people person); Hugh (Rachel’s brother, driver of second vehicle, suitcase lugger, Guinness taster and repository of Irish Jokes) and last but not least Elin (Hugh’s partner, gourmet cook and all round provider of good things).

On Wednesday we left the faded glory of Enniscoe House and headed West to Achill Island. As always on any journey involving two cars sooner or later there is a moment when both accidentally head off in different directions, each assuming the other is in front. In this case one went the scenic route, one went the other scenic route. What goes on tour stays on tour!

Our guide in Achill was Gerard Mangan, born and bred in the area and now a qualified Failte Ireland tour guide. Gerard walked with us up on to the hills above our cottage at Corriemore, and guided us in a day walk on through the Deserted Village of Slievemore and on around the base of the mountain to a welcoming Guiness at the pub on the other side.

The Deserted Village has its own sad story of disaster set in the years of the Irish Potato Famine, around 1846, when the crops failed due to the potato blight. These people lived within sight of the sea but when their main crop of potatoes failed due to the blight that year they pawned their herring boats and nets to buy seed for the next year. When the crop failed again the following year, and the herring failed to arrive off shore, they found themselves starving. It's a sad tale with many sides to it, but for me the poignant sight of the 70 odd stone cottages, roofs gone, wild mountain sheep grazing among them, was enough to hint at the agony of any mother who found herself unable to feed her children.

Walking on around the mountain Gerard pointed out the many mountain flora thriving in the rich Peat ecosystem - Bog Asphodel, Heather, Ling, Lousewort, Tormentil, to name a few. Plus there were meadow brown butterflies and a harrier hawk, but the local Chough was not to be seen by us.

From the slopes of Slievemore you  look out to Clare Island, the home of Grace O'Malley, or Granueile as she was known. Grace was a wild Irish woman and head of the O'Malley clan who lived from around 1530 to 1603. She controlled her fighting men with an iron fist and reputedly sailed to England to meet face to face with Elizabeth 1. The coastline of Connemara is littered with castles and strongholds thought to have formed part of her wide defences, and she has captured the imagination of many writers with her wild ways.

Kildavet Castle - one of Grace O'Malley's castles in Connemara

So we left Achill with our heads full of stories of pirate queens and hardy Irish souls who fought against hardship - many of whom emigrated to foreign shores to escape the fate of their compatriots. The landscape out here is wild and barren, and there are signs of human habitation from neoliothic times. Everything we've looked out on has been touched by human hands at some time as they strived to feed their families despite many hardships. Today Achill is a thriving seaside holiday destination with some wonderful beaches and plenty of pubs and local food, but hearing the stories of its people and seeing the deserted cottages put it in a fascinating historical light for me.