07/06/2024

Our ramble today was once upon a time the saddest journey, and thousands who walked it are remembered at this little bridge. It is called ‘Droichead na Deora’ or the Bridge of Tears, and it marks the point where family and friends of emigrants going to Derry to board a boat would say their goodbyes. Even still, it’s a lonely road, a grim Muckish Mountain frowning down on the twisty passage that cuts from Weet Donegal towards the North coast. It is squelchy bog and bog cotton, skittish grey stone and grey sky. Just beyond the bridge, the statue of Mary adds to the aura of melancholy, and there is no doubt that for many who left, it was their last goodbye to mothers, fathers and families. The stone beside the bridge explains its significance in Irish, which is fitting, it is a language still spoken here, and a reminder of the tragedy of emigration.