Sitting after lunch, I thought to join our guests on the train to Howth and walk back. A marathon distance walk needed a bit more respect than that. I'd already walked in the morning but this was too great an opportunity to improve my daily average. And so in my haste, I only wore one pair of socks. Think blisters. And add blisters under the blisters and you'll understand the consequences.
I bought bottles and bars outside the train station. Then took off up the old tramway to Howth Summit, a tramway still remembered sixty years after it closed, following just fifty years of service.
At the summit, encouraged to find Samaritan phone numbers on road signs, I made a loop back towards Balscasden Road to get some pictures of Lambay Island against the Mourne Mountains. Then down by Heather Cottage to look at the Kittiwakes crying, Fulmar's flying and Guillemots vying (for shelf space). And south to The Bailey lighthouse passing families and friends who walk like they actually want to extend their time together; imagine that. Three people taking arty photos with a small grass fire they've set to provide atmosphere - among tinder dry gorse, what were they thinking? I emerged from the rocky pathways at the Sutton Martello Tower and back on to the road again.
