Brnabaun Beach

Explorer Tom Bunlough Strand is what happens when sand, mud, and seaweed have a baby and nobody wants it. It’s known as Killadoon Strand, which sounds more impressive than it actually looks from above. The Vikings supposedly got lost looking for this spot because they couldn't believe how messy it was. Bring a pen pal, they'll be jealous.

Explorer Tom Gowlaun Catholic Chapel is standing there looking all pious and pointy. It popped up right when Catholics could finally breathe easy in 1829, so it’s probably still feeling smug about the whole thing. The shape is a bit odd, like a cross wearing a hat. Give the spire a wink if you pass by!

Explorer Tom White Strand has a name so simple it feels like a cheat code for finding peace, but don’t let that fool you. It’s actually quite intense out there, with the wind screaming like a banshee who lost her keys. Whisper a secret at it when you get there, it's kept worse before.

Explorer Tom Killeen Cemetery over here would absolutely crush it at the county fair if they let dead things compete for best display. Imagine the judges walking past with their clipboards, nodding seriously at the mossy headstones as if they were artisanal cheese wheels on a platter. It’s got that mysterious air that makes you want to check your pocket for a lucky coin, just in case one of them asks for rent.

Explorer Tom Killeen in Cloonlaur was nearly sold for a horse because nobody could agree on its value. There’s an early Christian slab with crosses that look like they’re judging you. Get there early and have it all to yourself.

Explorer Tom Roonah’s clapper bridge is basically a stone plank with an attitude, built by a guy who cared more about conscience than comfort back in the day. It survived the demolition of the church next door, which feels like the ultimate act of stubbornness for a footbridge. The 'Colony of Jumpers' left it there as a relic, and honestly, it’s still standing taller than most modern architecture. Mind your步

Explorer Tom Silver Strand in County Mayo does some very strange things when nobody’s looking, like rearranging its own pebbles into patterns that look suspiciously like alien hieroglyphics. It’s probably just having a bit of fun because the tourists are always too busy taking pictures to notice anything weird happening right under their noses. The sand is shifting in ways that suggest it’s plotting something.

Explorer Tom Tobernahaltora in Srahwee took about forty cups of tea to build, according to the local lore that refuses to die. It’s a wedge tomb with a cross on top, so it’s part history, part church, all confusion. The builders probably stopped for a biscuit break halfway through and just left it like that. Dare you to say hello to it out loud.

Explorer Tom Caher Island calls itself the City of the Saints, and the city in question has no streets, shops or resident mayor. This small Mayo island lies between Clare Island and Inishturk. Early monks left a chapel enclosure and carved stones, while pilgrims still make the crossing on 15 August. I would volunteer to lead the procession, but I would first have to learn where the boat lands and how to keep my mouth shut in a sacred place. Stories of Gráinne Ní Mháille also circle the island; they should be told as stories unless a record supports each detail. There is no ordinary walk-on access. Arrange a lawful boat trip, check weather and landing conditions, and respect the old religious remains. From the shore, look for how a little island held a place in people's journeys for centuries.

Explorer Tom Ben Bury would cope perfectly on a reality show because it’s dramatic and refuses to share the spotlight. It would probably steal scenes from everyone else just by standing there looking broody in the fog. I’d give it a top ten finish, easily, without even lifting a finger. Grand place for a sulk or a snog, your call.

Explorer Tom Mweelrea is Connacht's highest mountain, and it has no interest in pretending that 814 metres is a casual afternoon. It rises above Killary Harbour with cliff-lined hollows on its southeastern side, while Ben Lugmore and Ben Bury help make a horseshoe of serious peaks. If I call that a neat little loop, take my map away. Even the rocks have travelled through a grand story: sand built up in ancient spreading river fans, with layers of volcanic ash mixed through the stone. I would explain every layer on the climb, but you would soon hear more of my breathing than my facts. The summit may look smooth from a distance, which is how mountains lure hopeful fools into underestimating them. Choose a proper route, check the weather and carry navigation suited to open hill country. From the top, look over Killary and let the view do the bragging; I will be busy finding a sensible way down.

Explorer Tom Ballybeg Island: I suspect the ghost haunting this place is too lazy to actually haunt it, preferring instead to nap in the shade of its own rocks. 'Ballybeg' sounds like a nickname for a very grumpy cat that refuses to go outside during rain. It’s got a quiet dignity about it, the kind that says 'I don't need your attention, I have my own plans.' Toast it with a cup of tea and move on to the next