Road in Doonierin

Explorer Tom The Drumcliff Round Tower sings its favourite song to the wind, which is basically just the sound of a thousand years of echoing echoes. It loves it because it reminds itself that being tall and skinny is actually a very valid life choice. Bring wellies and low expectations, leave delighted.

Explorer Tom Graveyard in Drumcliff South has a secret it would tell after three pints, which is that W.B. Yeats actually wrote his own epitaph as a joke. It’s sitting there with its eleventh-century high cross and views of Ben Bulben, looking picturesque while the church behind it pretends to be modern. If you see it, just whisper hello.

Explorer Tom Stone cross in Drumcliff South is tucked into the graveyard wall, eavesdropping on every funeral and gossiping about the deceased with the other stones. It hears everything through its carved walls. Bring a flask of something warm and a story to swap.

Explorer Tom Saint Columba's Church in Drumcliff thinks the place that replaced it is just a knockoff with no soul, even if Yeats is buried there. The Gothic tower has octagonal buttresses that look like they’re trying to hug each other. Give the pinnacles a nod without touching the gate.

Explorer Tom Drumcliff Cemetery is incredibly proud that it sits in the shadow of Ben Bulben and looks better than your holiday photos. It’s right next to a river mouth, so the wind never stops talking. Take a breath of that air, it's older than your car.

Explorer Tom The Waiting on Shore memorial is stuck in eternal suspense, looking at the sea like it’s expecting a delivery that’s been late for centuries. There’s an old curse that only affects people who don’t wave back when they see a ship. Great spot to propose. Or at least to propose lunch.

Explorer Tom Oyster Island was clearly designed by a mother-in-law who wanted to be close to you but not too close, with that lighthouse watching over everything like a suspicious auntie. It’s got a vibe of 'I know what you're up to,' which is honestly the best personality trait for an island. Bring a pen pal, they'll be jealous.

Explorer Tom The local sheep at Rosses Point seem to think I'm here to steal their opinions on the weather, which are surprisingly nuanced. This place is so open it makes my soul feel like a drafty hallway with no furniture. Ideal spot for a dramatic phone call.

Explorer Tom Kings Mountain in County Sligo was saved by a hero so obscure even his own ghost forgets his name. It stands tall over the bog, pretending it didn't just fall asleep on the job. Pop by and tell it it's looking well.

Explorer Tom European Beech in County Sligo was where a priest once lost a bet about which bird sang better. He now has to explain that loss to every congregation member he meets. Pretend you're a lost aristocrat, nobody will check.

Explorer Tom Sligo has a Coney Island too, and I had better specify which one before somebody sends you to New York. Its Irish name recalls the O'Mulclohy family; the English version is the rabbit's claim to fame. In 1862, 124 people lived here and 45 children attended the local school. Electricity did not reach the island by underground cable until 1999, which is a longer wait for a light switch than I would have managed with good manners. Today the island has a tiny permanent population, though summer brings more visitors. You can come across the tidal causeway from the Coolera side when the water is out. That last condition matters more than my confidence about a shortcut: a returning tide can strand a car. Check the local crossing times and signs before going, and make your way back with room to spare. A rabbit might risk another hour; you have a clock and no excuse.

Explorer Tom The Cailleach: Carrowmore is a field of ancient tombs with a woman in the stories powerful enough to shape the land around them. I can barely shift one big garden stone. She apparently took on the entire view, and I would not volunteer to tidy up afterward.