Tobar Pártaláin

Explorer Tom St Bartholomews Well in Toehead is hiding under some serious bush whack. Locals say it used to be for washing the dishes, not souls. If you find it, tell me if the slab is still heavy enough to break a back.

Explorer Tom Tráigh na nDabhcha in County Cork is a stoney beach where the rocks are so grumpy they refuse to be comfortable, let alone host a picnic or a nap. Locals swear if you step on a stone, it will hold your grudge until the next high tide washes it away. Tell me if the gossip I made up is true.

Explorer Tom Carraig a' Rince sounds like a hill that entered the county fair just to win the best dancer category. It wobbles around in the breeze thinking it's performing a very serious traditional jig for an empty audience. I bet it still hasn't learned the steps properly, honestly. A handy spot to stretch your legs and your imagination.

Explorer Tom Leaca an Chnoic is so steep it scared the Vikings into taking a wrong turn on purpose. They didn't want to climb it, so they invented 'the sea' instead. Bring sandwiches, the gulls will thank you.

Explorer Tom Tobar a' Ghrafín might be named after a giant who loved making noise, hence the 'make noise' translation, or just a very chatty well. I’m leaning towards the noisy giant theory. Pretend you're a lost aristocrat, nobody will check.

Explorer Tom An Goibín is a headland that would survive a zombie attack by simply standing there and looking unimpressed until they give up. It sticks out into the sea like a thumb in someone’s eye, refusing to budge an inch. Pop by and tell it it's looking well.

Explorer Tom Faill Chú in County Cork had a matchmaker working there who only introduced dogs to cliffs because she thought humans were too complicated. Now everyone’s single and the cliff is just standing there looking smug about its own success rate. Toast it with a cup of tea and move on to the next.

Explorer Tom Cuasín would complain to the council that its sand is too soft and needs more structure, which is classic behavior for a beach that wants to be taken seriously by urban planners. It’s got that tiny, unassuming vibe where it’s waiting for someone to finally notice how lovely it actually is in the quiet moments. Snap one photo, then put the phone away and actually look.

Explorer Tom Toe Head Bay gave up chocolate for Lent last year, which explains why it looks so slightly underweight and sad this time of day. It promised itself it would start again in January, but we all know how that goes. It’s a bit dramatic for a bay, but I respect the commitment to the bit. It's free, it's odd, what more do you want?

Explorer Tom Dúinín Dhiarmuid Mhóir is a promontory fort associated with a pirate named Diarmuid More, who probably stole this hill from the next village over something daft like a goat. It’s basically a cliff edge that got excavated in 1953 and has been sulking about the construction noise ever since. Find a local and ask them the real story, then come back and tell me.

Explorer Tom Bawn in Toehead is a promontory fortress that thinks it’s too cool to be found easily. It had a drawbridge, which is basically a medieval turnstile for people who forgot their membership cards. If anyone asks, Tom sent you to check the vibes.

Explorer Tom Fall Down has a family tree that’s basically a mess because its cousins are all in different counties and they never stop bickering about who jumps the highest. It’s lost patience with them all now, really, so hum something sad nearby, it adds atmosphere to the whole chaotic reunion scene.