We don’t do much circumnavigating. No good reason; we’ve just never thought to try it. Even in our home waters, despite an abundance of targets for such a mission, we’ve never circumnavigated anything. We just aren’t loopers. Not until now, that is…
Over in this neck of the woods, circumnavigating is a big thing. Some sailors set out to circumnavigate the Isle of Wight, or the Isle of Mull, or the Isle of Man. Others decide to loop Ireland. Still, others set out to circumnavigate all of the British Isles. You can accomplish any of the above in a race, or with a club, or on your own. We caught the bug and are happy to announce that we have now circumnavigated Ireland by sailboat. And what a trip it was! Loopy!!
We came from the north, Scotland. After 37 straight days of cold rain in the Hebrides, arriving in Ireland felt like arriving in the tropics.
We made a brief stop in Bangor, Northern Ireland (near Belfast), then continued south to the Isle of Man.
We didn’t know much about Man and were mainly attracted to the place because we thought their flag was cool. Almost immediately upon arrival, it became obvious that the Isle of Man is all about motorcycle racing. There’s a famous race there called the “TT.” It’s known to be the most dangerous racecourse in all of motorcycle racing, and several people die in the event every year.
We took a side trip from Peel to the capital city of Douglas by bus and got to see a part of the course from the bus window. These are the sort of quiet British lanes between hedgerows where you or I would potter along at 30-35 MPH in a car. During the race, the bikes obtain speeds above 250 MPH on these same little, curvy lanes. No surprise then that it often = death. There is no speed limit on Man, and hordes of motorcycle enthusiasts make a pilgrimage to the island all year long. We knew nothing about motorcycle racing when we sailed in, but we made many new biker friends and learned a lot!
Then a fair breeze from the north filled in and it was time to shove off for Dublin.
Fun fact: Ireland is about the same size as Sri Lanka. And Ireland is also about the same size as Maine. Bet you didn’t know that Sri Lanka and Maine were the same size…
We loved the cities: Dublin, Belfast, and Galway. We loved the rugged west coast: Co. Galway and Co. Mayo. But it was the idyllic bays and islands in Cork and Kerry down south that stole our hearts.
We could have happily sailed around Baltimore, Cape Clear Island, Schull, and Crookhaven all summer long.
The famous Fastnet Light was hiding under our boom as we approached Cape Clear Island. Fortunately, the seas were calmer out there on our visit than they were on the night of August 13, 1979.
This is an eerie corner of Éire for sailing. In addition to the tragedy of the 1979 Fastnet race, the hulk of the Lusitania rests on the bottom just 35 miles from here, and the Titanic’s last port of call in Cobh, Ireland, is less than 50 miles away.
A prominent white monolith, known as “Lot’s Wife” because of its resemblance to a pillar of salt, serves as a day marker at the entrance to nearby Baltimore Harbor. There are some benches up there, making it a good place to stop, look out to the horizon, and think about all the unfortunate people, near and far, who died offshore with seawater in their lungs.
Earlier in our loop of Ireland, we stopped at the shipyard in Belfast where the Titanic was built. “She was fine when she left here,” they like to say.
Our Ireland circumnavigation was unexpected. Our plan was to sail from southwest Ireland directly to Gibraltar for some Mediterranean sailing in the season ahead. Then one day in Kinsale we changed our plans. We love sailing in Northern Europe, and we didn’t feel ready to leave this corner of the world quite yet. Instead of the Med, we decided to winter over in Dublin while living aboard the boat. And what better way to get back to Dublin from Kinsale than to circumnavigate Ireland.
Visiting the Aran Islands was like visiting a distant planet. The moon-like geology there was distinct from the rest of Ireland–and the rest of the Earth.
Having just spent six weeks in Scotland, it was impossible not to compare these two world-class cruising grounds. The weather is gentler in Ireland, but in many ways, Ireland is the more challenging place to sail. The island has an abundance of prominent capes, each one delivering blasts of wind, current, and tumult more often than not. Strong currents on the east coast bring both opportunities and challenges to navigating the Irish Sea. The exposed west coast of Ireland is under constant assault from the Atlantic Ocean. No protection is afforded to the sailor making way along this coast.
Far fewer boats sailed with us in Irish waters compared to Scottish waters. We appreciated the uncrowded harbors and solitude, but lack of demand fed lack of supply and we noticed far fewer services for boats in Ireland. Trash was hard to get rid of. Fuel and groceries were hard to find in many areas. Our watermaker saw a lot of use, and without it, the lack of availability of fresh water would have been a problem for us. Ireland felt surprisingly remote in places. Self-sufficiency was expected and required. Fortunately, pubs were everywhere and there was always plenty of Guinness to be found.
Our luck with the weather during our circumnavigation of Ireland was exceptionally good. In 2026, Ireland enjoyed the warmest, sunnies, driest July on record. What a profound change from our cold, wet June in Scotland!
With the right weather, you could sail the 704 nautical miles around Ireland in under five days in a boat like ours. But we were playing tourist and taking it slow. We couldn’t resist tucking into dozens of bays and harbors, which extended our total miles logged from 704 NM to 1,015.5 NM. We made 37 stops along the way, and our leisurely loop took us 54 days to complete. Twelve nights were spent on anchor, 14 hanging on a mooring ball, and 25 tied up in a marina.
Co. Mayo has got the elevation. The cliffs of Croaghaun on Achill Island, seen touching the clouds in the photo above, are the tallest sea cliffs in Ireland and also the tallest sea cliffs in all of Europe—2,257 feet from sea to summit.
Sailing past Sligo county, we were in William Butler Yeats country. It was cool to be sailing thru “that dolphin-torn, that gong-tormented sea” of his. Same as it ever was.
Strong currents whisked us up over the top of Ireland, past Malin Head, and back down to Belfast Lough with great haste.
We closed our loop in Bangor, N. Ireland and then loitered there for a while. A haul-out for an insurance survey was one of several things on the Eagle Seven Sailing calendar that kept us in port.
Our final 97.2 nautical miles of sailing for the year brought us back around to Dublin where we’re now settling in for winter.
Our chosen marina is in the town of Malahide on the outskirts of Dublin. From what we heard, the village was said to be charming and the harbor was said to be well protected. Now that we’re here, we find both to be true and are also pleasantly surprised by the natural beauty of the castle grounds and the coastal path.
The weather in Ireland in January is said to be “manky.” We’re not exactly sure what that means, but we do think there is a negative connotation attached. After dodging winter for the past four years, we’re once again feeling ready for the challenges of the mank.
There is plenty to keep us busy while we’re here. Over the past few weeks we’ve compiled a 29-page boat project “to-do” list. The boat is running fine, and she’s ready to cross an ocean tomorrow. However, keeping her seaworthy requires ongoing routine maintenance and a smattering of preventative maintenance projects as well. That’s the work we will be tackling this winter.
We also look forward to putting down some roots and enjoying all that the city of Dublin has to offer.
The mank is holding off so far, and we have lovely weather for varnishing this week. Our winter is off to a good start.
Up Next:
We hope to sail for the coast of Norway next spring. Dublin should be a good starting point for that next high-latitude adventure.
Onwards.
***