Tired from a long day on the road, we pulled into the KOA in Kerrville, Texas—just looking for a place to crash. What we found was bone-dry ground that laughed in the face of tent pegs and had us wondering how we'd ever sleep. But laughter led to luck, and a kind-hearted upgrade to a simple wooden cabin turned our dusty misadventure into one of the most memorable overnights of our journey. That evening, we dined high above the Guadalupe River, watching the sun dip low over the cliffs—blissfully unaware that the same river would be making headlines for very different reasons 13 years later.

There’s a special kind of magic in setting off on a road trip the day after Christmas—when the world is still wrapped in warmth, quiet, and possibility. Leaving Dublin on St. Stephen’s Day, I traded festive stillness for the promise of Ireland’s northern coast. From the colourful charm of Carlingford’s medieval streets to the wild drama of the Giant’s Causeway and the soft, seaside calm of Portrush, the journey unfolded like a series of living postcards. It was a day stitched together by breathtaking landscapes, quiet reflections, and the simple joy of discovering beauty in every bend of the road. This is the Ireland I keep returning for—timeless, welcoming, and endlessly enchanting.