‘A journey and an adventure’: driving Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Way

On the edge of pretty Mannin Bay there’s a barrel sauna with a convex picture window overlooking the white sand and translucent Atlantic Ocean. It’s the perfect place to warm up after a morning kayaking around the indented shoreline, one that changes dramatically with the rise and fall of the tide. We stroll back to Connemara Sands hotel, just steps away from the sea, passing the spa’s outdoor seaweed baths, hot tub and sheep grazing in the garden.

I’m on the west coast of Ireland exploring part of the Wild Atlantic Way, one of the longest defined coastal routes in the world. Celebrating its 10th anniversary this year, it was dreamed up after the financial crisis in 2008 as a way to lure people to the area with a 1,600-mile route running from County Cork in the south-west to County Donegal in the north-west, weaving through nine counties and taking in some of Europe’s most spectacular scenery. As marketing ideas go, it has been a huge success, bringing in an extra 2 million visitors every year and creating about 35,000 jobs.

“There’s something magical and alluring about long distance routes – like America’s Route 66 and South Africa’s Garden Route – that really captures hearts and minds,” says Alice Mansergh, CEO of Tourism Ireland. “The Wild Atlantic Way offers a real sense of journey and adventure, with so much amazing scenery, culture and history to explore. The aim is to spread tourism across regions and seasons – it’s beautiful year-round.”

While the nightlife is an undeniable part of the allure of a trip here, it’s the landscapes that constantly wow

The website makes it easy to plan a trip on one or more of the route’s 14 stages, with interactive maps and suggested accommodation, activities, “discovery points” and tours along the way (you could cycle or hike it too). I’m driving a section from Galway up to Donegal, covering about 720 miles in five days, staying somewhere different each night.

It’s early Friday evening when we arrive in Galway and the town is buzzing. The bar in Tig Choili is lined with pints of Guinness, and laughter and chatter meld with live traditional music, in true Irish form. The city’s vibrant foodie scene is more of a surprise. We opt for Kai in the Westend, a chic but homely place run by a New Zealand and Irish couple, and tuck into the freshest oysters with rhubarb, and john dory with miso hispi. On our walk back to the hotel, I mentally note bars and restaurants to check out another time.

While the nightlife is an undeniable part of the allure of a trip here, it’s the landscapes that constantly wow. After leaving the city the next day, we drive through colourful, gallery-filled Clifden and are soon gawping at views of the coast and scattered islands from the panoramic Sky Road. Further on, in Connemara national park, we follow one of the marked trails across grassland, boulders and bog, with a backdrop of the Twelve Bens mountain range and far-reaching views across the ocean.

We easily fall into a routine that balances driving with plenty of outdoor adventure, rounded off with unfailingly delicious meals. Achill Island – one of the stars of The Banshees of Inisherin – is a wild place to wander, with free-roaming curly horned sheep, high cliffs and shiny white beaches. We cycle some of the Great Western Greenway from Mulranny, through forests and along the shore of Clew Bay. In Wild Nephin national park a boardwalk weaves across the Atlantic blanket bog to the water, where petrified tree stumps twist up from banks of peat, and red seaweed and luminous green moss colour the ground.

Rain and timing mean we don’t climb Croagh Patrick – the holy mountain and pilgrimage site overlooking Clew Bay and its islands – so we miss out on the promised redemption of sins. No matter: an evening in Westport, a pretty Georgian town on the Carrowbeg River, awaits. After feasting at Arno’s Bistrot (its owner, Arnaud, is originally from Paris and everything, including the Killary mussels, is delicious), we dive into a night of live traditional music and banter at Matt Molloy’s (whose owner is a flautist with the Chieftains) and the Porter House next door.

There are historic sites aplenty along the route, from the Neolithic Céide Fields in County Mayo (where a new interpretation centre reveals the secrets of the world’s most extensive stone age monument) to the church in Drumcliffe, County Sligo, where WB Yeats is buried. Our focus, though, is on the great outdoors, so at vast Strandhill beach, five miles from Sligo town, we meet Melanie White, founder of Rebelle Surf , based in the new National Surf Centre there.

Grey skies and drizzle don’t dampen our spirits as we frolic in the waves, attempting (and occasionally succeeding, yay!) to stand up. Afterwards, we ease our muscles in the Voya seaweed baths , right on the seafront. Fronds of freshly harvested, mineral-rich seaweed float in the warm water as I soak in the demi-light in a private room. A traditional treatment to moisturise skin and boost circulation, it’s deeply relaxing – before I know it nearly an hour has passed.

The final day brings one of the trip highlights – the Slieve League cliffs, about an hour’s drive from Donegal. Three times higher than the Cliffs of Moher to the south, they’re among the tallest in Europe. In high season this place would be crowded, I expect, but fellow hikers are few and far between as we follow the meandering cliff paths, watching the light at constant play on the sparkling ocean.

Afterwards we retreat to the nearby Rusty Mackerel for bowls of chowder and homemade soda bread. At the bar, locals chat and joke, and pints of the black stuff are free-flowing. Another day on the Wild Atlantic Way – and all feels right with the world.

The trip was provided by Tourism Ireland and Fáilte Ireland. For more information visit Wild Atlantic Way