Rare Adventures

Tag: travel

The Apprentice’s wrecks the Alps

It took me eight years to persuade one of my best mates, The Apprentice, that he should come mountain biking in the Alps and that we would have a great time, riding in the sun during the day and drinking beer by the lake at night – what was there not to love.

Massive storms, floods, diverted flights, broken bones and a long lost son.

Over the last couple of years, we have established an annual boys event on the bikes, 2 years ago we did the North to South Devon bike trail, a 100 mile ride across Dartmoor, with a night in a country pub with a lot of cans of beer on the train home to celebrate our achievement.

Last year the plan was to ride my 50km route around North Somerset, checking out the pubs as we went, but this was sabotaged by VW Festival, which was taking place exactly halfway round the route on the day of our ride. So, we included it in the schedule, camped overnight, and made a video blog of the chaos of that day.

So it was with some trepidation that my mate agreed to come on the trip, and to be fair things did not start too well. I arrived the day before on a 7pm flight into Genevea and tried to make the trip to our apartment on public transport, but was sabotaged, I was caught in a huge thunder and lightning storm that shut down the entire train system in South West France and left me stranded with a £70 taxi bill.

When The Apprentice flew the next day things got significantly worse. The region had another huge lightning storm in the evening. It shut down Geneva airport, created torrential rain, as well as the train network. His flight was heading for the Geneva until 30 minutes from landing. I was poised in the apartment preparing to leave to pick him up when his Easyjet flight path suddenly changed towards Lyon, and then even worse diverted again towards Nice, basically he was going on a tour of the airports in South West France. Luckily he stocked up with beer in the flight.

After refuelling at Nice, they took off and flew back to Geneva now the storm was over, but no, they went to Lyon because they were now too late to land in Geneva. After sitting on the Lyon runway for 90 minutes waiting to be unloaded, he finally got on a bus and finally at 5:15 am, 10 hours late and he had been to 3 airports.

By the time I picked him up we arrived back in the apartment at 7am, and the enjoyed a beer on the balcony watching the sunrise, “welcome to France mate”.

So, after only a couple of hours kip, we decided due to tiredness, to skip mountain biking for the day and go for a walk in Cirque de Fer a Cheval, an amazing canyon with waterfalls everywhere. Unfortunately, the storm from the night before had caused the floods down through the valley and surge had washed the roads away and it was all closed, in fact, even worse a woman had been killed when a bridge was washed away but the surge.

Undeterred, we ignored the roadblocks, parked near the Cirque, reviewed the damage created by the storm surge and did the walk anyway, leaving my mate amazed at the beauty of the Alps at it’s best, even though bits had been washed away the night before. In hindsight and having recently watched the scenes from the water surges in Nepal, I’m not sure that this was one of my better ideas.

That evening I introduced my mate to the “Morillon Massive”, the group of Brits with homes in the village that gather for beers, by the lake in the summer or by the gondola in the winter. My mate got to enjoy sitting in the sun, watching the sunset looking west, and looking east towards the orange glow on the mountains from the setting sun. The Apprentice was falling in love with the Alps.

We had our evening BBQ on our balcony, investigated the booze cupboard and I presented him with a Rare Adventures T Shirt as a memento of that moment. Unfortunately, he has put on a bit of weight lately so the T Shirt wasn’t big enough, this list of bad luck was getting longer.

The thing is, when you have been friends with someone for 40 years, and have managed to get up to all sort of mischief, there is a never ending list of stories to reminisce on, all of which get funnier the more you have to drink.

In our block there is a little bar called the Tetras, and in the winter it is a major distraction when trying to get back home, as it is difficult to pass it after a good day on the piste, especially with the Morillon Massive are gathered discussing the day. It has been noted by other friends that the landlord, indomitable Flo. has a striking similar to The Apprentice. So this was the first opportunity to put them side by side, I will leave you to form an opinion but the word “love child” does come to mind, and Flo did actually smile and look happy, or maybe he was just bemised at the attention of the latest member of the Britpack.

Next day, we headed off to Avoriaz to show him around the spectacular scenery before doing the incredible bike trails in La Chatel. We made it safely to the peak on the French and Swiss border with some of the most stunning views in the region.

In one of those amazing coincidences that only seem to happen to me, I heard someone shout “Hello Rod”, in this remote corner of France, one of my pals from walking football just happened to get off a lift at the split second I was putting on my helmet, 30 seconds later he wouldn’t have seen me, an unbelievable coincidence.

The Apprentice and I headed down the trail, stopping for photos, and then into the last section into the Avoriaz valley for coffee when disaster struck. On the very first trail of the day he managed to go over the handlebars on one of the gravel access roads.

I had stopped to wait for him and was looking at the view when I heard a scream and a crash, the two Frenchie riders stood beside me ran towards the accident. I turned around and genuinely could not believe my eyes, there was my mate on the ground, covered in dirt with the bike wrapped around him.

I was so disbelieving I actually nudged him with my toe to check it was him, which got an unappreciative response, as did my enquiry as to where was all his protective gear I had given him. Luckily, he had a full face helmet on, but we was clearly badly shaken up.

Sadly, a trip that had 3 days of mountain biking in beautiful scenery ended right there, he never got to see the bike parks. We got him down to the village, where he had a couple of recovery beers that did him good but didn’t solve the problem of his smashed up body what turned out to be a broken wrist. Examination of the GoPro footage still hasn’t really solved the mystery of why he fell off.

So we headed back to the bar by the lake, downed a few more beers, shared his story with the Morillon Massive, one of who was a medic and diagnosed the broken wrist, one for A&E when he got back.

I offered to take him for a hike across the mountains on the last day, but he opted for a day of watching Indiana Jones films in the apartment followed by a pub crawl along the river and a final sunset beer by the lake.

It had been quite a trip, it hadn’t gone anything like it was supposed to but we really had a great time with plans being put into place for next years adventure. In fact, it had been even more eventful than the visit from my mate The Mechanic in June, which was hardly dull.

So it’s not only me that has these misadventures it rubs off from my friends as well.

As I often say what’s the worst thing that could happen?

As he still carries the scars from Thailand in 1992, I guess he knew what to expect !

26/08/2026
Petrolhead tour: Wild Atlantic Way adventure in Ireland, Part 3

Rally driving, road rage, a singing chef and a dip in the fountain

This was the day when the fun and laughs did not stop from the moment to set off to collapsing into bed at 2am.

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At this point we had reached the halfway point of our tour, and we were up and ready, I was determined to follow the group this time and see what it was like in the convoy. We had a wonderful route over moors planned by the OTR guys.

So, I tucked into the convoy determined to enjoy it. For the first hour I followed one of the little Yaris GR rally cars through the mountains, The owner, Simon, had to do all the work watching for dangers ahead as we headed across the cliffs, I momentarily looked around and enjoyed the scenery and when I looked back, he was gone, you can’t relax for a second with these guys.

We came along a beautiful coast road and the OTR guys found a little coffee van in the middle of nowhere on top of the cliffs. To our surprise, in this wind torn wilderness, there was a museum to the worlds oldest farming settlement from some 5000bc, I did find this at little bit of an incredible claim, but as I couldn’t prove it wrong, I guess we have to accept it, but by far the most interesting thing about the Failte museum was the toilets, that we needed after our coffee!

As we headed through the next town the group got split up and I found myself out in front setting the pace, whilst and knowing the cars behind me would overtake if I didn’t put my foot down, I really pushed myself as we flew across the moorland roads, it was absolutely exhilarating pushing the Porsche in a way that I had never done before. Having Sandy and Mr Blowey behind me itching to overtake if I gave them a chance, I kept me foot to the floor.

Arms locked on the steering wheel like Colin McRae the rally driver, the manual gearbox being pushed to the limit, the roar of the engine to keep revs in the middle range, eyes firmly fixed on the road ahead I had absolutely no idea what the scenery was like because I was firmly fixed on the road ahead and determined to make up distance in the bends so that the supercharged Jag of Sandy wouldn’t overtake me on the straight. As Wooksie said, it was like being in a rally car, at the end of it we pulled into the little coastal town of Mallaranny to give us chance to calm down.

My friend Mr Blowey pulled in behind me and opened with the words “Thank god you took that cork out of your ass mate”, which I took to mean well done. Then things really kicked off, there wasn’t much space in the road, Mr Blowey was stood beside his car, but another car driven by a pensioner insisted on pushing through as he stood there.

At this point there was a loud howling noise coming from Mr Blowey, basically the car had driven over his foot, and he was not happy. The car stopped and was pursued by Mr Blowey hurling abuse. It bought back memories of our younger days where such things had turned into quite major incidents as punishment for stupidity was administered, but now in his older and calmer years, he noticed the driver was about 80 so limped back to the car after handing out some obscenities as punishment.

This wasn’t the end of it though, because he had to put the roof up on his convertible. Daz’s mate Pompey Ian was stood close by and was given instructions on what he had to do to help. To be fair, after a long drive, Ian had other things on his mind and didn’t quite follow the instructions about putting all his weight on the boot lid. Ian, unfortunately, took his weight off the boot lid too soon and before we knew it, the boot lid was jammed with all sorts of bits poking out in the wrong places.

This was now all getting too much for Mr Blowey and he cracked, lots of rude words and he pretty much blamed Ian for wrecking his holiday, wrecking his car, and the Iranian war. To be honest I could see he was holding back his violent tendencies as best he could, bearing in mind his foot was throbbing like a good un as well.

Luckily Aston Martin Stuart turned up, with a calm disposition and his excellent toolkit, and before we knew it the damage had been recovered, so we all sat down for a nice lunch on the seafront in the sun prepared for the next escapade.

After the excitement I was only too glad to settle into a drive along the coast, enjoy the scenery as we followed the Sky Road along the cliffs and into our hotel for the night, a genuine castle called Abbeyglen Castle with the promise of a great night out, but not before another trauma for Mr Blowey.

After we had all checked in, Mr Blowey had to pop up to our room to collect his stuff. Fortunately for us we had been given the best room, not only did we have fabulous view of the coast, but we also had a patio door out on to a turret that acted as a balcony.

Mr Blowey looked at our room, stomped around the balcony in silence, checked the bathroom, let out a fearsome growl and stormed out of the room. It transpired he had a room with a lovely view in the rear of 2 trees, and he managed his frustration by stamping down the corridor back to his room, refusing to speak to me again. This was the 3^rd consecutive night that we had a better room, and he was struggling with the unfairness, his throbbing foot and the burgeoning repair bill for his car.

Saturday night dinner was a grand affair and even Mr Blowey cheered up. The owner of the castle gave a wonderful speech about the history of the hotel, and then we moved on to dinner where he became the centre piece of entertainment, even sharing his Irish version of Bohemian Rhapsody.

Not only that, but we also had the services of the Singing Chef, who sang Irish ditties between courses, it was a truly fun experience and we had a wonderful time. The food and service also fantastic, life couldn’t be better.

But it didn’t stop there, England were playing Norway in the World Cup, so we all headed to the bar to watch the game. Strangely, the Scots were having a great time when England were 1 0 down, so much so that Sandy’s daughter, the vivacious Louise who had already been lots of fun up to now, stepped up a gear and bought a round of Baby Gunnesses, which inspired others to do the same and before we knew it everyone was singing and laughing.

Not so much when England scored their second goal, but that didn’t stop the banter with more Scots in the shape of father and son team Cam and Fraser getting in on the act as well, booing every England move and cheering Norway wildly, so much so that a couple of genuine Norwegians couldn’t stand the noise and went back to their rooms. The Scots even decided to wear their own football shirts as an declaration of war.

Even better, Wookie’s (who had also gone to bed by now) won the sweepstake with the time of England’s second goal, so we won a pot of about £40. The next morning, we realised that the money had disappeared overnight, did the barman take it, but we then came up with the most likely explanation,

I’d used it to buy a round. This round, amongst many others, pushed Pompey Ian over the top and he collapsed with bout of Guiness poisoning.

Things deteriorated further at the end, for some reason I’d promised to jump in the fountain if England won, so I did. Cam and Fraser were too drunk to get a photo, and I started to suffer from exposure waiting for this photo to be taken. I headed back to our posh bedroom and couldn’t sleep, because every time I rolled over, I started giggling again, which didn’t please Claire very much.

The next day we were all rather subdued at breakfast, armed with sore heads we headed off on the longest day of the tour, 280 miles to Cork, with the only aspiration being to get to the next hotel without any more incidents.

07/08/2026
Hidden Treasures of Seim Reip

Visiting Anker Wat had been one my ambitions for many years, so we detoured from Vietnam for a short stay in Siem Reip to take in the temples. We weren’t’ the only ones, as everyone who comes here is heading for Anker Wat, which is a shame but Siem Reip is a really nice place and Cambodia has a lot to offer.

The city leaders are a clever lot, and to keep us hanging around the created Pub Street, which is another good reason to come here. They have created a long street full of bars, that keeps the rowdy tourists in one place, having fun while the citizens carry on with their lives uninterrupted.

The highlight of this trip was the HeroRats that are covered later in the blog, they were incredible and, in many ways, the highlight of the trip. A creature that the whole world regards as vermin is at the core of saving lives and removing the landmines that still remain from the war with the US.

To be honest, Pub Street is overhyped, all the bars are doing beer deals and food, there is the odd night club or live music venue scattered around but the best bit, is most of the bars are airconditioned. As with many things in this part of the world, Pub Street gives you great Instagram photos to share, which of course makes it even more popular.

Everything was geared towards the travellers so we ended up eating there every night because it was nice and easy, and the beer and food was cheap, but by the 3^rd night it we definitely time for a change of scenery.

To get a better perspective of town, we found a tuk tuk tour called Hidden Treasures and had a great guide called Lux, (you can find him on Facebook as Lux Lux). He had great knowledge of the history and spoke fantastic English, he also had a real passion for his country and he made the tour extra special for us.

Psar Chaa – Old Market. Local food market was the first stop and it was jaw dropping. The region is full of markets and things but this one had the most incredible variety of fresh food. Most of it was fish from a giant lake the size of a small sea a few miles away that seem to feed the entire region. All the farmers carted their products into this central area and the place was packed with locals doing their daily shop from the amazing it display of vegetables and meat; it makes our weekly trip to Lidl look particularly dull!

Wat Preah Prom Rath. Everyone comes here Anker Wat, but there are temples spread around the whole city. The temples are unique as they blend Buddhism with Hinduism, historically the religion is Buddhism but one of their kings changed the religion to Hindu and this lasted for a couple of centuries, before another king changed it back, so this means the temples have artifacts from both religions.

It isn’t a visit to a temple unless they have a sleeping Buddhu, and this one had a beauty.

Satcha – Cambodian Handicraft Cente. Another really interesting place where the locals maintain ancient crafts, it was a bit like an apprentice college. This isn’t really my sort of thing, I couldn’t help but be intrigued watching the delicacy of the stone or wood engraving, and how the pottery and painting studios. After 30 minutes we got on to the good bit, they make cracking coffee.

APOPO Visitor Center, otherwise known as the HeroRats. This was absolutely incredible. Rats are trained to sniff out landmines. APOPO is the charity that trains the rats in Cambodia and in parts of Africa as well. Apparently, rats are intelligent and sensitive creatures and watching the affection that the staff at the visitor centre show them is quite moving. They take years to domestic and train to do the minesweeping, but they have saving hundreds of lives.

I hadn’t realised that their rural countryside is still littered with landmines and children are still being killed and maimed, they rats are not only saving lives, but they also open up more land for cultivation as there are vast areas that are still too dangerous to inhabit, which is an incredible tragedy.

We took in another temple where there was some celebration going on, with people having a good time but it was all getting a bit hot by then and we could feel the swimming pool and cocktails calling.

Lux had rather impressively taken us on a route that actually left outside our hotel, so the call of the pool was even louder.

Thanks again to Lux for a great day.

06/08/2026
Petrolhead tour: Wild Atlantic Way adventure in Ireland, Part 2

From Bushmills to Donegal

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Refreshed and exciting from the previous day’s events we were up early for a day which started with bright sunshine and a lovely breakfast. So, we were up and ready to go for the next stage of our journey to from Donegal via Londonderry.

Getting out of the small car park was no straightforward task, and as he had managed to find a spot that meant we needed a 3 point turn and by the time the opportunity arrived the procession of cars had already gone – last again and it the day has only just started.

We did catch the group up when they stopped for petrol, and we flew straight past them as we didn’t need fuel – aha we are out in front at last. We didn’t see them again for an hour, which was when we stopped for coffee and they all went flying past us again, the routine of the day was taking shape.

The drive towards Londonderry was pretty busy and not much fun, and it was only when we came out the other side, entered Eire and started to enjoy the empty roads over the mountains and along the coast that things really improved.

We joined the Wild Atlantic Coast that was to be our route for the next 5 days. Luckily, we didn’t follow all the signs or we would have been there for a month as the route follows every coast road, but the OTR guys had done a good job of planning.

A highlight of the first day was travelling a national park that is dedicated to being Bog , so that was a bit of surprise as we travelled through the remote moors. We had our first experiences of the wide open spaces as we travelled over the mountains between Carrickart and Dungloe and the boy racer in our heads in us took over as the cars were put through their paces, driving like a joy rider was a good description.

The OTR guys had another cool safety strategy, one of the cars acts as a pace car and warns the other cars of any oncoming traffic (there wasn’t much) or other things to be aware of. In fact I started to get a feel for the ability of our car that you would never discover on normal driving, the Porsche Cayman is reputed to be the best balanced sports car ever made, and we learned we could handle pretty much any bend at speed, we just lost out when it came to straight line speed. Somehow we managed to pass them all again somehow lose the convoy.

After long day of scenery that took in the stunning cliffs at Sliabh Liag, where once again we bumped into the main body of the group as they hiked up to the cliffs as we were wandering back – but the ice creams were worth it and the cloud formations rolling over the cliffs were totally unique.

The route back into Donegal took is through a place called Kellybegs which had a fleet of monster deep sea trawlers that were clearly geared for long trips out into the Atlantic, they were quite a site moored up around the quays and the smell of fish was everywhere.

Before our arrival at the hotel in Donegal, on the way down the main road we noticed an odd thing that was quite disturbing, there seemed to be a national cull of cuddly toys. Teddy bears were hanging from fences, nailed to telegraph poles and hanging from lamp posts. Whatever the cuddly toys had down wrong the kids were clearly after revenge. Further research identified that this was a tradition linked to a motorbike fund raising charity convoy of bikers, which I have to say did not make some of the scenes any less disturbing.

Mr Blowey arrived and his car developed a new fault, the roof on the convertible wouldn’t go down, which added to a long list of issue. The Mercedes roof is a horribly complicated affair and my technical skills with a hammer were not much use.

Pulling and pushing a range of fuses did little to help the situation. however, help was at hand when Stuart, the Aston Martin owner, appeared with an incredible tool kit. He explained that if you want to own an Aston Martin you needed a lot of tools, which promptly knocked the Aston Martin off my bucket list. After much time in the car park a solution was found, sit on the boot lid to force the electrical connection, and happily it worked and the roof went up, and even down again the next day.

To make matters worse, when Mr Blowey checked in, he had a view of the car park again whilst mine was out over the main entrance, he wasn’t happy but he had had enough stress for one day and we decided beer was the best antidote.

Meanwhile, the ladies decided they had had enough of male company during the day and had an evening to themselves drinking as much Prosecco as they could get their hands on, so us chaps downed red wine, learned a lot more about the intricacies of beef farming near Loch Lomond from Sandy, and hit the pillows.

04/08/2026
Petrolhead tour: Wild Atlantic Way adventure in Ireland, Part 1

From Bristol to the Giants Causeway

This was a very different type of adventure for us, but it was an adventure, nonetheless.

When my mate from Plymouth called and said he and Pompey Daz had signed up to a sports car tour of Ireland I wasn’t initially overwhelmed with enthusiasm. I did a round Ireland tour in my VW Camper back in 2010 as part of the Eireball Run, and I was still traumatised by the everchanging weather, slow progress and looking after 2 young kids on my own.

However, the idea took hold and the thought of spending a week with my friends, and the opportunity to meet new and interesting people with a common love of sports cars began to appeal. My wife, Wooksie, took a bit of convincing, but eventually agreed to spend a week in the passenger seat of our Porsche, as the tour did look a lot of fun.

The trip was organised by OTR Car Tours. The 2 tour managers were great guys (Richard and Kevin) as petrolheads themselves, are absolutely living their best lives taking people on car tours, driving fast cars and earning a living, almost as much fun as being an Chief Adventure Officer. Each day involved clocking up 200 plus miles over 6 or 7 hours, so it isn’t for people who get car sick.

My mate Mr Blowey is one of my lifelong Plymouth friends, and a person that has the potential to cause even more chaos than me when ignited, so the thought of spending a week in his company promised fun but potentially carnage. Though it has to be said he is moderating with age, like a fine wine or stagnant water!

So, we had to meet our fellow adventurers in Holyhead for the start of the trip. I decided that this was a great opportunity to see the Welsh mountains, so from Bristol we took a direct route up the Cambrian Way to take in Snowdonia on the way.

Now the Cambrian Way is basically a holiday on its own, with numerous mountain passes on the way, andwith a detour, you can travel through the Snowdonia national park with stunning view of Snowdon itself, before crossing the Menai Bridge and into Anglesey.

I have done this route up to Coed y Brenin on various mountain bike trips but had never been blessed with blue skies and glorious weather, which was promised for our trip.

Things nearly got off to a good start.

But the days leading up to Mr Blowey leaving Plymouth had not been kind to his superfast Mercedes SL55 AMG sport car. When it was new it was the fastest convertible produced, but it was no longer new and had been stuck in the garage for a couple of years. A few issues had arisen, some of which had been repaired and others hadn’t.

Two notable ones affected the trip, firstly the stereo stopped working the day before they departed, and before setting off there was a complex array of Bluetooth speakers and data feeds to be connected as part of each departure, which took ages and involved a fair bit of cussing.

Secondly, he had no handbrake either. Mrs Blowey observed the car seemed to roll when they got out, he insisted it was her imagination and everything was fine.

So, we headed off towards Anglesey and discovered that north of Newport, Wales is almost devoid of toilets and places to stop for coffee, it is one big vast countryside with nothing in it but 20mph speed cameras and closed cafes. I suspect the bikers and drivers that used to pour into Wales for the great roads stopped when the ridiculous speed limits were introduced.

The route took us up through Abergavenny, towards Brecon ,then on to Builth Wells where we finally found a loo and a cup of coffee, then on to a whole load out unpronounceable places with one particularly spectacular mountain pass, Abergwesyn Pass, which gave, tight hairpins, and incredible views before heading towards Llanberris and the views of Snowdon,

After 6 hours of amazing scenery, purchasing numerous fridge magnets for the Blowey family at Llanberris, we found the only traffic jam in Wales, 2 miles from our hotel.

Time to meet our fellow travellers, and what a lovely bunch they turned out to be, and what a scary bunch of cars they owned, I put my little Porsche Cayman round the back out of the way.

A few beers to get to know people before dinner and an early night. 6am we were up and ready as we had to get the 7.30am ferry. A bit of a dash from the hotel and suddenly the ferry had a very long queue of expensive cars and needless to say we were the last already.

My morale improved with the girl in the ticket booth leaned out the window and said she thought out car was the nicest, I’m pretty sure that was because it is red rather than a technical appraisal of its capabilities. The ferry then promptly departed at 7.10am, 20 minutes ahead of the 7.30am departure time for some reason, they are called Irish Ferries for a reason.

After a 4 hour ferry trip we hit the roads of Ireland, and within seconds I had lost everyone as the other cars demonstrated their exhaust tones and acceleration to each other, whilst we battled with the satnav and made steady progress.

The OTR guys are really good, they have Kevin out in front setting the pace and showing the route and Richard follows up the rear, so we were glad to see him in our rear mirror, we weren’t too far behind

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Day 2 (Day 1 is arriving in Holyhead) involved a long drive from Dublin to the north, once we were off the motorway we followed the coast road with great views across to Scotland on a beautiful summer’s day. We picked up the convoy again and the procession of burbling sports cars made its way along the coast with passers by taking snaps and waving, with the average speed of the convoy increased as soon as the road cleared .

One of the problems with the Northern Ireland stage was it is in the UK, and as a chap with a few too many speeding points, I didn’t want to have any interactions with the law after 3 stressful years on too many points, so I tucked myself in behind one of the Yaris GRs and enjoyed someone else taking the strain of speed cameras and got used the excellent handling of the Porsche on the coastal road.

We finally made it to the big event, the Giants Causeway with the strange rock fhexagonal rocok formation, this is the second time I’ve been there and the second time I’ve been underwhelmed but it was a good excuse to stretch our legs. I’ve visited many famous natural sites around the world, but none as disappointing as Giants Causeway, the unique hexagonal stones appear to be huge in the photos, but can be measured in inches rather than feet, anyway, never need to go there again.

OTR had organised a great hotel (Bayview) on the waterfront near Bushmills and we all checked in. We had a lovely see view, whilst the Bloweys were given a room overlooking the car park, so we put them in charge of vehicle security, which they weren’t that chuffed about.

So, we had beer on the seafront, a fabulous dinner (which we were late for and had to sit on our own as punishment) and off to bed in preparation for another long day tomorrow when we picked up the “Wild Atlantic Coast” road along the west coast of Ireland.

Here are the best of the cars on the trip

28/07/2026