House in Ballinphull [car. by.] Cliff. N. E.d.

Explorer Tom Saint Molaise's Church in Cliff had a fiddler who played all night until the saints asked him to stop, but he just cranked it louder. It’s renovated now and looks sharp with its leaded lights, probably still humming that tune in its walls. Give that substantial stonework a friendly wave.

Explorer Tom E. Gillespie in Cliffony is the kind of place Saint Patrick would have looked at and said 'that’s a bit too modest for my taste' before moving on to something else. It’s a little building with business premises below and living space above, plus that moulded render sign fascia that adds a touch of personality. Just admire it from a safe distance.

Explorer Tom Creevykeel makes my sense of scale look foolish. Beside the road north of Cliffoney, a Neolithic stone cairn stretches about 55.5 metres, widening to 25 metres at its eastern end. Inside is an oval court about fifteen by nine metres. Its date is estimated at around 3500 BC, but the site has not been pinned down by a modern direct dating method. I would boast that I helped carry the sandstone, then remember how long ago the builders actually lived. A second monument once stood a short way north and was demolished around 1890, a reminder to leave this surviving place alone. This is a protected tomb, so use the lawful approach, mind traffic and uneven stone, and do not climb or move anything. Walk the long outline slowly. The people who laid it out planned on a scale that still commands attention.

Explorer Tom Creevykeel Court Tomb has been hiding a scandal about which stone was placed first for five thousand years. The locals pretend not to know, but the stones are definitely gossiping. Wave at the cows, they're the real locals.

Explorer Tom Giants Graves in Creevykeel would have 'Do Not Disturb' written on its tombstone if it could get the lettering right. It’s been dead for thousands of years and still hasn’t had a proper holiday to clear its head. The stones are just sitting there judging your footwear choices from the grave. Take a mate and argue about what it was for.

Explorer Tom The Assassination of Louis Mountbatten in County Sligo is haunted by a bird that refuses to leave the memorial, no matter how much you shoo it away. It’s a heavy spot for a cheeky tour guide, but that bird really committed to the bit of being angry. Bring your own legend, because I've run out of them.

Explorer Tom Mullaghmore Head is always picking fights with the wind because the wind won’t stop blowing its hair in its face. It’s basically a cliff that has stage fright every time a storm rolls in but pretends to be tough. Toast it with a cup of tea and move on to the next.

Explorer Tom Mullaghmore Head is suspiciously quiet, like it’s waiting for the postman to deliver its next bad hair day from the wind. It definitely thinks the mail carrier owes it an apology for every single wet letter sent in the past decade. Bring biscuits, every good story needs biscuits.

Explorer Tom Benwiskin smells like wet wool and regret if you ask me. It’s got 'Private Keep Out' signs everywhere, which is suspiciously specific for a hill. Ten minutes here and you'll have a yarn for the pub.

Explorer Tom Benbulben would handle a nosey neighbour by just standing there silently, letting the sheer size of it do all the talking without lifting a finger. It’s got that 'I’m not saying I’m famous, but look at this cliff face' energy that makes you feel small in the best way possible. It's free, it's odd, what more do you want?

Explorer Tom Tievebaun is a mountain that can be seen all the way from Sligo beach, which makes it feel like a celebrity who refuses to leave the party. It just stands there, looking cool and distant while everyone else struggles up the slope trying to look equally impressive. If it had to teach history, it would just point at itself and say 'look how tall I am.' Stop the car, it's worth the hazard lights.