So we were resigned to the fact that Ireland had shown us all it could and that the most Westerly point of the British Isles would be a grubby bit of land, trailing miserably into the sea.
We drove up, we parked up, and both said "Oh it can't be far over that hill."
That hill turned out to be the biggest challenge we had come across all weekend. What started out as a 'bit of a stroll to see what's there' soon became a hike of epic proportions. We aren't kidding you – every time you think you are there, another hill pops up in front of you, to the point you think that that Irish are playing some kind of cruel trick and you'll never see the end.
Half an hour in and the cute kids that were running up the hill past us were getting evil stares. The young couple that breezed past and asked "you ok?" were met with derision.
Eventually, and we mean ninety minutes later, we stood on the most Westerly point (well as far as we dare go without being blown off the world entirely by the ninety MPH side gusts).
Oh, you know what, we'll just shut up now. Go for yourself because no amount of words or photos can ever do it justice. Wrap up, take water, jump over the back fence and just look what's beyond!