The prettiness of the trail is overwhelming. Lined by soaring oak trees on both sides, the path goes gently up and down, snaking into the horizon, seemingly endless. It’s impossible not to feel calm, even happy, to be amid such beauty – there is nothing like the solitude of nature. You can either take the green road or a boardwalk, and naturally I chose the green road, which is only 200 mt longer than the other route. My path was covered with spring flowers and ferns, slightly muddy with the recent rain, smelling deliciously of wet earth. I reached the Lower Lake in no time and sat down for some time. There was a house on the other side of the lake, hidden in the foliage, not as fancy as the Guinness Lodge maybe but still a pretty great location to live! I wondered if someone could see me, sitting here, an Indian in the middle of nowhere in Ireland, alone and smiling, happy to be among these trees. It’s true what they say. There’s not much difference in the Lower and Upper Lakes and if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen both, but for me it’s the walk that made the trip worthwhile. Carrying on the green road, I occasionally came across people returning from the Upper Lake, one running dog, wildly delighted to have the whole path it itself, and everyone seemed happy and smiling. As I was walking back, I heard a strange whistling and looked up and there it was – rain coming down on me in slow motion. The wind started howling through the trees, the rain turned into hail and both I and my umbrella struggled against it to make it back without damage. Glendadough had given me an Irish welcome and now it was giving an Irish farewell.