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Marvellous Murvagh
 Hugh Dougherty revisits the scene of many childhood holidays, Donegal’s Murvagh beach — wild and unspoilt, and still his favourite.
Everyone has his or her favourite beach in Ireland. For some it’s magnificent Inch in Co. Kerry, the miles of Magilligan on the Atlantic coast of Co. Derry, or golden Curracloe in Wexford.
But, for me, it has to be Murvagh, that superb, endless stretch of fine sand that runs out into Donegal Bay, from south of Ballintra.
It has views up to the mountains of Donegal in the north, and a vista down to the south taking the Dartry Mountains as far as Ben Bulben above Sligo.
The Back Strands, as the locals of Laghey and Ballintra called this beach from time immemorial, are to be found off the main Donegal- Ballyshannon Road, and you drive down almost secret narrow lanes before coming to the beach just past Murvagh golf course.
I first spent a day on Murvagh in 1967 as a 16-year-old, and it was there for many years that my late parents, in thrall to Donegal and to Murvagh in particular, spent their six weeks every summer — bathing, chasing the sun, avoiding the Donegal rain, and generally doing very little.
Bathing was always safe and shallow at Murvagh, as the tide flowed in and out of the bay. And if you were feeling energetic, you could take a walk through the woods behind the strand, or climb Moyne Alt, the hillock that sticks out of the endless sandhills. From the top you could look along the beach towards the Green Islands in the River Eske estuary towards Donegal Town.
When I first knew Murvagh, there was no car park, so you abandoned your car in best local style at a beak in the sand hills, climbing down onto the sand.
Today, there’s the luxury of proper parking, and in season the car park can be busy with visitors, but given the four-mile length of the beach you can easily find a place of your own on the sand if solitude is what you seek.
Murvagh has a great deal in common with other class Irish strands: It’s clean, backed by a picturesque backcloth, and gives that hard-to-describe feeling of peace and remoteness from the frenzy of our age that only an Irish beach can provide.
You can sit and look right out across Donegal Bay to Mountcharles and move your eye further west along the coast, all the way to St. John’s Point and out as far as Slieve League. The bay is wide and the water inviting in summer, and a swim is essential.
Or, if you look south, away past Rossnowlagh, you can see Mullaghmore’s promontory and Classiebawn Castle, both with their associations with Lord Loius Mountbatten, sticking out into the sea.
This is a vista to sit and savour, and if you just want to sit on Murvagh and soak up the scenery, that’s up to you; it’s that sort of strand.
These days, during the summer, there’s horse riding lessons to be had, but that’s as far as it goes, for sensibly, the authorities haven’t allowed cars to invade this oasis of natural beauty and tranquillity.
Of course, Murvagh’s not always tranquil, and one of the great experiences of Donegal is to walk along the total length of this beach in the teeth of a Donegal Bay storm, watching the breakers roll in charged with the anger of the Atlantic, and seeing the strand at its wildest.
Or you can stroll along on a summer’s evening, watching the sun set in a trail of red and gold over Slieve League, and reflect on the Celtic twilight of days gone by.
The Back Strands offer some of the finest digging for any family whose kids like to build in sand. Generations, including my own children when they were at that stage, have moved tons of sand on Murvagh. They don’t seem to have really changed it appreciably, but keep digging they do!
It was on Murvagh that I courted the girl who became my wife. It is that sort of place where it’s easy to be romantic as the light, shadow and weather changes to reflect your mood. It really is a beach for all seasons and for all people.
And it’s the sort of strand that I dream of on wet and cold winter days, when an image of a sun-soaked Murvagh comes to mind for a few seconds, reminding me of what’s in store in summer, way to the west, and across the sea in Ireland.
I’ve known and loved Murvagh for nearly 40 years, inheriting that love and sense of familiarity from my own parents, and passing it on. I knew the beach before it was known to tourists at large, and I knew it before locals bothered with it much in the days of pre-industrialised Ireland.
Today, it’s as attractive as ever, and stepping back on to its acres of sand I could be 16 again. It’s that sense of timelessness, the strand’s essential Irishness, and its setting that makes it special as an anchor point in a world of change.
Over the years, I’ve visited all the best Irish beaches, and there are some that are truly superb. But, give me Murvagh every time. It is special to me, and I’m sure that everyone with Irish connections, who holidayed in Ireland as a youngster, or who has especially happy memories of a strand, would argue exactly the same for his or her favourite spot.
Maybe we could all write something similar about a spot rooted deeply in our selves — but no, Murvagh
IS special.
My next visit’s arranged already.
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