July 6th: Oughterard
The only hostel of this region, in Oughterard, was full and there are virtually no campsites in the hinterland. When I stopped at a pub to ask for a few square meters in a garden or field to pitch my tent, Cecilia immediately invited me to stay with her. Not in her garden, but in one of the empty sleeping rooms in her house.
We drank a beer together on the pub’s terrace, and when we got home I could also cook my diner in Cecilia’s kitchen.