The country in the vicinity of Sligo is one of the most interesting and beautiful in Ireland. Close to it is the famous Loch Gill, the queen of the fresh water lakes of Connacht. It is so near the coast that it is not improper to say something about it in treating of the scenery of the coast. It is connected with the sea by a river only a few miles in length that passes through the town of Sligo, consequently it is only three or four miles in a direct line from the sea. There is no other large fresh water lake in Ireland, except Loch Corrib, so near the sea as Loch Gill. It is fully ten miles in extreme length, and from three to four in breadth. Its shores cannot be said to be mountainous, but the hills around it are so bold, and their lower parts are so well wooded, that Loch Gill, in spite of its having comparatively few islands, is yet one of the most beautiful lakes in Ireland, and no one in search of the beautiful should omit to see it. There is no other town in Ireland that has more objects of scenic and archæological interest in its vicinity than Sligo. There is the immense cairn on top of Knocknarea, sixteen hundred feet above the level of the sea. There are four or five other immense cairns close to the town, and there is the extraordinary mountain of Ben Bulben, anciently Ben Gulban, that is shaped like a gigantic rick of turf. It is a couple of miles long, and some sixteen hundred feet above the level of the sea. Its summit is perfectly flat. It can be ascended in a carriage from the south side; but on the north side, facing the sea, it is not only perpendicular, but overhangs its base in some places. If not the highest or most beautiful mountain in Ireland, it is certainly the most extraordinary.
We now approach the famous Slieve League, the grandest, the boldest, the steepest, if not the highest, of all the cliff barriers on the coasts of these islands, and one of the most remarkable in the known world. It can be seen from the shore near Sligo, rising almost perpendicularly from the sea. The cliff-mountains of Achill, colossal as they are, seem to shun the full fury of the western gales, for they face the north-west; but Slieve League looks almost due south-west, and thrusts itself out into the ocean as if to court the most tremendous shock of the Atlantic’s billows. It forms the culminating point of a range of cliffs that are over six miles in extent, extending from Carrigan Head to Teelin Head, the lowest cliff of which is over seven hundred feet in height. Slieve League is two thousand feet high, and almost perpendicular. It is two hundred feet lower than the highest of the cliff-mountains of Achill, but it is bolder, nearer being perpendicular, grander, and more rugged than they. Those who have not been on the sea at the base of Slieve League cannot form a true idea of its awful grandeur. Its summit is almost as sharp as a knife blade; and he who could look from the jagged rocks that form its cone down on to the seething ocean under him without feeling giddy should have a steady head and strong nerves. Those who go from these islands to Norway in search of the sublime should first see this king Irish cliff-mountains, and know how grand and beautiful are the sights that may be seen at home.
The whole of the coast of Donegal is magnificent. There is no other cliff on it as high or as grand as Slieve League, but there are hundreds of places along its nearly a hundred miles of iron-bound, storm-beaten coast that are well worth seeing. It has nothing like Clew Bay, but it has gigantic cliffs, narrow arms of the sea, some of which are nearly as wild and as grand as the famous Killary Bay that has already been described. There may be certain places in the more southern coasts that are finer and fairer than anything on the coasts of Donegal with the exception of Slieve League, but for general wildness and cliff scenery there is hardly any sea-coast county in Ireland can equal it. It has the longest sea loch in the island on its coast—namely, Loch Swilly. Following its windings from its mouth to where it begins must be over five and twenty miles. It is a beautiful lake also, and hardly known at all to tourists, and never can be known until better means are supplied for seeing it from a steamer on its waters. The “wild west coast” may be said to end at the mouth of Loch Swilly. From there eastward it is the northern coast. There is much of the grand, beautiful, and curious to be seen on the northern coast from Inishowen to Fair Head, including the celebrated Giant’s Causeway, and “high Dunluce’s castle walls.” The latter have been already described.
It would be hard to find anywhere in the world another sea coast of the same length as that from Cape Clear in the south to Inishowen in the north, where there is so much to be seen of the grand, the terrible, and the beautiful. If the mountains on the coasts of Norway are higher, if its fiords penetrate further inland, and if in some places the shining glacier may be seen from them, there is not such astonishing variety of scenery on the coasts of Norway as there is in the west coast of Ireland. The climate of Norway does not permit the growth of many species of wild flowers which add so much to the beauty of even the wildest and most sterile parts of Ireland. In Norway there are no mountains radiant with purple heather and golden furze,—mountains that may be unsightly and sombre for ten months out of the twelve, but are, in autumn, turned into living bouquets, thousands of feet in height, and with areas of tens of thousands of acres. Moisture and mildness of climate are the parents of flowers. If rain and mist hide for days and weeks the most beautiful scenery in Ireland, there is ample compensation afterwards in the bloom of wild flowers more luxuriant and more plentiful than can be found where there is more sunlight and less moisture.
It is a curious and humiliating fact that, so far as can be learned from the sources at command, there are ten people who go from these islands to the coasts of Norway every year for the one that visits the west coast of Ireland. It may be that many people go to Norway just because it has become fashionable to go there, but all the fashion in the world would not send people five or six hundred miles across a stormy sea if there was not good accommodation for them to go to that distant country, and good means for seeing its beauties. Let there be the same means for seeing the beauties of the west coast of Ireland as there are for seeing the coast of Norway, and thousands will visit the former every year. Those who want to see the grandeur of the Norwegian coast go in large and well-equipped steamers, and live in them, eat and sleep in them for weeks together, while they are brought from fiord to fiord and from town to town. Let similar means be had for those who desire to see the west coast of Ireland, and it will not be long unknown.
There is no way to see coast scenery properly except from the sea. One might be looking at Slieve League or the Cliffs of Moher all his life from the land, but he could never have a full idea of their grandeur unless he saw them from the sea at their base. Those who see the cliffs and cliff-mountains of Norway from the deck of a commodious steamer see them aright. Most of those who make the trip to Norway are loud in praise of its magnificent coast scenery; but if they had to go by land from fiord to fiord, as they would have to do on the west coast of Ireland did they want to see its beauties, would they be so enchanted? They certainly would not. When tourists go to see the Norwegian fiords, they need not trouble themselves about engaging beds, or worry themselves by fearing that the hotel in such a place will be full, for they have an hotel on board the steamer, are carried from place to place, and are given ample time to see the beauties of each place. If there were the best hotels in the world at every romantic spot on the west coast of Ireland it would never attract visitors, and never would be known as it should be, and as its wondrous grandeur and beauty entitle it to be, until large and commodious steamers were provided in which people could live, if they chose, while being brought from one place of attraction to another, or from one town to another. There are few coasts in the world better provided with harbours than the west coast of Ireland. It could hardly happen that a steamer like those that take tourists from Leith to the coasts of Norway could be caught by a gale on any part of the coast from Cape Clear to Malin Head, ten miles from a harbour in which she could not take shelter. The danger of shipwreck would be so small as to be infinitesimal. The trip from Cape Clear to Malin Head, or even to the Giant’s Causeway, could be made in two weeks, and give sufficient time to stop a day or more at such remarkable places as Clew Bay or the Arran Islands, where things of more than ordinary interest are to be seen, such as the view of Clew Bay from the high lands east of it, and the cyclopean ruins in the islands Arran, the most colossal and extraordinary things of their kind in Europe. There ought to be enterprise enough in Ireland to put a steamer, like those that take tourists to Norway every summer, on the Irish west coast for three or four months every year. Without such means of seeing the beauties of the west coast, as only a large, commodious steamer could furnish, the beauties and the grandeur of the cliffs of Moher, Clew Bay, Slieve More, and Slieve League will never be known as they should be.
There is only one part of the Irish west coast where harbours for large craft are scarce, and that is the Donegal coast. It is said that there is no safe harbour between Killybegs and Loch Swilly, a distance of nearly a hundred miles. This is unfortunate; but stormy as the north-west coast is, there are always many days in summer when steamers could go from harbour to harbour in a calm sea.