Day 2: Newcastle - Clonmel

What a breakfast! I was eating for an hour this morning; freshly squeezed orange juice, just baked scones, almond bread, apple porridge - with extra stewed apple on the side, fully cooked Irish with spicy sausages and a huge pot of coffee; before being waved off by Olive; who rang me later that day to see how we were doing.

Hands down the breakfast I received at Glasha Farmhouse is the best I've ever experienced and I'll be back there again sometime soon!


Deserted country roads, hedged by frosty fields and swirling mist greeted us today. Shortly after starting we emerged at a church standing on a crossroads. Mass was being said, with eight cars parked outside. Speakers on the outside walls were broadcasting the priest's sermon through the mist and we paused for a moment...


We climbed steadily out through the mist and happily detoured onto forest trails. Here I gave Lucy ownership of her journey, by releasing her from the rope. She's developed a big connection with Cara and follows Cara's every bound, sometimes to her detriment!

At one stage we had a minor rescue mission to release Lucy from a field that she followed Cara into; then couldn't climb back out of!


Still following the Munster Way, we detoured off it later in the day, crossing Glenary River at a suitable ford, cutting out a 3km switch-back. Then following a washed-away track that you could be forgiven for thinking was actually a stream, we emerged into a farmyard and got chatting to Larry, a retired FCA officer and now farming.

After dallying for half an hour with Larry, getting a pub recommendation and exchanging some chocolate for some goat oats, we continued into the bright afternoon sunshine.





Stopping for tea and Olive's almond bread on top of Glennagad Hill, beneath the cross, was a welcome respite. Clonmel lay stretched below us, with smoke rising from the chimneys of Bulmers Brewery.

We invoked some laughter and incredulous looks as we navigated Clonmel's busy streets searching for McCarthy's B&B.

Robin and Debbie run a fabulous, rambling townhouse B&B, with huge bedrooms at the end of long passage-ways.

Once the animals were tended to and Debbie had removed her laundry from the back-garden clothes line, I was off for steak and a couple of pints in Phil Carroll's; a superb old-style pub with plenty of bar counter to lean on and dark corners for hatching plans.