Savour its fresh air, its exquisite scenery, its remarkable stories, its quiet and tacit dignity and its enduring appeal – getting to the top of the Bluestacks is a treat we should all enjoy at some stage on our own personal pilgrimages. The Bluestack Way is a well-regarded waymarked way, but the more I think about it, it’s a pilgrimage of sorts a doffing of the cap to generations of people and of ways that are long gone, where determined people lived and exciting (and at times inexplicable) occurrences took place, where the harsh land gave knowledgeable and grateful residents a living and where the epic and ever-changing beauty would make the heart of the most hardened cynic skip a beat. The sight of the pristine and perfectly manicured Tymeen football pitch, the sacred serenity of Disert, the hulking presence of Carnaween, the agony of climbing up Lugnabrogue, the ecstasy of getting to the top and admiring the best view in Ireland, the calmness of Doobin, the surreal sight of a sofa just when you want one and the joy of seeing Glenties are yours to behold – this is one special section. You’ll have enjoyed two good days on the Bluestack Way at this stage, but what comes next is possibly the best part of it. Ode to Brexit – with apologies to Lewis Carroll.
