Kitchen Midden

Explorer Tom Glen Lodge in Woodpark has had so many former names it could be an actor. It’s been a stable, a barn, and probably a secret hideout for local gypsies at some point. The louvred ridge ventilator is just there to let out all that old gossip.

Explorer Tom Boathouse in Woodpark would do brilliantly on a reality show because it nestles into the hillside with such natural charm that producers would love its unspoilt setting. It’s got slate and stone materials that make it look like it grew out of the earth naturally, which is very hard to fake. Pretend you're casting for your own series right now.

Explorer Tom The Glen in County Sligo is where the seagulls hold their weekly board meetings about how to annoy the tourists most effectively. They really think they run this place, so you might as well let them. Mind the nettles, they're the real guards here.

Explorer Tom Maeve's Cairn is a huge stone mound on Knocknarea, and I promise not to offer my usual "let's climb the top" advice. It is about fifty-five metres wide and ten metres high, probably built around 3000 BC. Archaeologists think it may cover a passage tomb, though its inside has not been opened for a neat answer. The name links it to Queen Maeve of story, who arrived long after the builders in the telling. I would invent a dramatic burial scene, but the date and the protected stones deserve better. Reach the summit by a lawful path, then stay off the cairn itself and leave every stone in place; damage from visitors is already serious. Look at its breadth against the Sligo skyline. You do not need to stand on a monument to feel its scale.

Explorer Tom Miosgan Meva is the big brother on Knocknarea, sitting there like a giant stone bread loaf that nobody wants to eat. Its plan for retirement is to sit exactly where it is and let tourists trip over themselves trying to take photos. It’s got a flat top that looks like it was made for sunbathing by ancient kings. Bring the dog, it'll have opinions.

Explorer Tom Knocknarea wears a stone crown, and I am not asking to borrow it. Knocknarea rises 327 metres over the Coolera Peninsula and carries a huge stone cairn on its head like a crown it refuses to take off. The summit heap is about 55 metres across and ten metres high, yet archaeologists have not excavated it. It is traditionally called Queen Maeve's Cairn, though the queen belongs to myth and nobody can name a person buried inside. The structure looks like a Neolithic passage tomb, roughly of the era when other ancient monuments spread through this Sligo landscape. I have grand claims about knowing Maeve; the cairn can outlast every one of them. From up here you can look towards Carrowmore and the Atlantic, connecting places that may have mattered to the same communities. The hill is a public walking destination with a climb and exposed weather; follow the marked route and do not climb on or move stones from the protected cairn. Maeve has enough stories already without your boots rearranging her roof.

Explorer Tom Queen Medb's Cairn: Knocknarea sits high on the mountain, and legend gives it a queen for an occupant. It is an enormous cairn. Whoever first tied Medb to it clearly had no interest in a modest ending to her story.

Explorer Tom Knocknarea trail is dreaming of winning the lotto to buy a nice pair of boots for its steep sections. The path is loose and eroded, like it’s been tripping over itself all morning. Bring your own legend, I've run out of excuses for why the ground is so slippery up there.

Explorer Tom Cullenamore would survive a zombie apocalypse purely because nobody knows where it is, so the undead just get lost in the sand. It's got that quiet confidence about it, like it's waiting for someone to finally notice its brilliance. Wave at the cows, they're the real locals.

Explorer Tom Strandhill Beach is currently in a massive feud with the rain, claiming it’s the real king of the coast. The dunes are just standing there judging both sides like tired grandparents. Tell the next person you meet it's haunted. It might be.