{"id":2229,"date":"2026-07-21T11:00:00","date_gmt":"2026-07-21T10:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/?p=2229"},"modified":"2026-07-19T20:53:22","modified_gmt":"2026-07-19T19:53:22","slug":"a-couple-from-mullingar-converted-an-old-ambulance-into-a-camper-and-have-spent-the-summer-chasing-headlands-along-the-causeway-coast","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/a-couple-from-mullingar-converted-an-old-ambulance-into-a-camper-and-have-spent-the-summer-chasing-headlands-along-the-causeway-coast\/","title":{"rendered":"A couple from Mullingar converted an old ambulance into a camper and have spent the summer chasing headlands along the Causeway Coast"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>They left <strong>Mullingar<\/strong> in a white van that still whispered of bandages and <strong>blue<\/strong> lights. By the first week of June, it had become a <strong>home<\/strong>, and the siren\u2019s old wiring was feeding <strong>fairy<\/strong> lights. They pointed the nose toward the <strong>north<\/strong>, chased weather apps and tide <strong>tables<\/strong>, and kept asking the same question: where does the land turn to <strong>sky<\/strong> the quickest.<\/p>\n<p><\/p>\n<h2>From Siren to Slow Lane<\/h2>\n<p><\/p>\n<p>The rig began life as an <strong>ambulance<\/strong>, square-shouldered and <strong>stern<\/strong>. They stripped decals, patched holes, and dressed the box in <strong>pine<\/strong> and patience. \u201cWe wanted a space that felt <strong>quiet<\/strong>, even when the sea was <strong>loud<\/strong>,\u201d says Aoife, running a hand over a countertop they sanded to a soft <strong>sheen<\/strong>.<\/p>\n<p><\/p>\n<p>They kept the <strong>bulkhead<\/strong>, but cut a pass-through for rainy <strong>mornings<\/strong>. Two solar panels feed a <strong>leisure<\/strong> battery; a diesel heater waits for Atlantic <strong>moods<\/strong>. \u201cIt\u2019s not fancy,\u201d Ciar\u00e1n laughs, \u201cbut the kettle boils <strong>fast<\/strong>, and the view changes every <strong>hour<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n<p><\/p>\n<h2>A Tiny Home With Big Windows<\/h2>\n<p><\/p>\n<p>Inside, the palette is <strong>light<\/strong>, with open shelves and <strong>latches<\/strong> that click like commas. A pull-out bed becomes a <strong>sofa<\/strong>, framing cliffs like <strong>postcards<\/strong>. Hooks carry wet jackets; baskets carry <strong>books<\/strong> and butter; a narrow drawer guards <strong>maps<\/strong> and spare fuses.<\/p>\n<p><\/p>\n<p>They kept one medical <strong>cabinet<\/strong>, its frosted glass now holding <strong>mugs<\/strong>. \u201cWe wanted traces of its <strong>past<\/strong>,\u201d Aoife says, \u201cnot to erase the <strong>story<\/strong>.\u201d When the door slides shut, their world is six <strong>metres<\/strong> long and as deep as a <strong>tide<\/strong>.<\/p>\n<p><\/p>\n<h2>The Rhythm of the Causeway<\/h2>\n<p><\/p>\n<p>They didn\u2019t chase beaches; they chased <strong>edges<\/strong>. From Downhill and Mussenden <strong>Temple<\/strong> to Torr Head\u2019s tight <strong>lanes<\/strong>, they learned to park early and <strong>breathe<\/strong>. Wind writes the daily <strong>agenda<\/strong>; squalls turn cups of tea into little <strong>theatres<\/strong>.<\/p>\n<p><\/p>\n<p>\u201cOut here, you read <strong>clouds<\/strong> like books,\u201d Ciar\u00e1n says, watching a front peel off the <strong>Atlantic<\/strong>. The cliffs absorb <strong>mood<\/strong>; the basalt holds its own soft <strong>heat<\/strong>. Evenings drift into torches and <strong>tidelines<\/strong>, gulls stitching silver through <strong>dusk<\/strong>.<\/p>\n<p><\/p>\n<h2>Headlands That Hooked Them<\/h2>\n<p><\/p>\n<p>They found a rhythm of arriving late, leaving <strong>light<\/strong>, and walking just far <strong>enough<\/strong> to feel the cliff\u2019s slow <strong>pulse<\/strong>. Three places live in their <strong>pockets<\/strong>:<\/p>\n<p><\/p>\n<ul><\/p>\n<li>Torr Head, where roads turn <strong>spinal<\/strong> and the sea turns <strong>steel<\/strong><\/li>\n<p><\/p>\n<li>Kinbane Head, a chalk-white <strong>finger<\/strong> pointing at old <strong>stories<\/strong><\/li>\n<p><\/p>\n<li>Magilligan Point, where dunes hold <strong>wind<\/strong> and ships draw <strong>rulers<\/strong><\/li>\n<p>\n<\/ul>\n<p><\/p>\n<p>At each, the ambulance curled into a lee and let the body <strong>exhale<\/strong>. \u201cThere\u2019s a moment when the van <strong>settles<\/strong>,\u201d Aoife says, \u201cand the whole headland seems to <strong>listen<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n<p><\/p>\n<h2>Learning Curves and Quiet Joys<\/h2>\n<p><\/p>\n<p>They learned to ration <strong>water<\/strong>, smile at <strong>midges<\/strong>, and cook with three <strong>flames<\/strong> and two <strong>spoons<\/strong>. A folding table lives in the rear <strong>door<\/strong>, and dinner finds its way to <strong>sand<\/strong> if they push the knives too <strong>fast<\/strong>.<\/p>\n<p><\/p>\n<p>They never wild-camped on fragile <strong>ground<\/strong>, always asked <strong>locals<\/strong>, and packed out more than they <strong>brought<\/strong>. \u201cRespect isn\u2019t a <strong>rulebook<\/strong>,\u201d says Ciar\u00e1n, \u201cit\u2019s a set of small <strong>habits<\/strong> repeated until they make a <strong>place<\/strong> better.\u201d<\/p>\n<p><\/p>\n<p>Missteps happened: a low branch scraped a <strong>vent<\/strong>, a wheel kissed a soft <strong>verge<\/strong>, coffee erupted in a slow <strong>motion<\/strong> geyser. Each time the fix was part <strong>toolkit<\/strong>, part <strong>humour<\/strong>, and part long walk to let tempers <strong>cool<\/strong>.<\/p>\n<p><\/p>\n<h2>Moments That Stay<\/h2>\n<p><\/p>\n<p>One dawn at Benone <strong>Strand<\/strong>, a fog line lifted like a <strong>curtain<\/strong>, and the sand turned mirror-flat and <strong>endless<\/strong>. Another evening, they stood under Dunluce <strong>Castle<\/strong>, where swallows cut black <strong>script<\/strong> against a sherbet <strong>sky<\/strong>. \u201cI kept thinking of <strong>pages<\/strong>,\u201d Aoife says, \u201chow every cove is a <strong>margin<\/strong> where notes get <strong>brave<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n<p><\/p>\n<p>At the Giant\u2019s <strong>Causeway<\/strong>, they waited past the last coach and <strong>noise<\/strong>. Basalt grew <strong>tender<\/strong> in the hush; hexagons warmed to a dull <strong>ember<\/strong> under bare <strong>feet<\/strong>. The van lights were off; the stars were <strong>on<\/strong>; the road back felt carved from <strong>quiet<\/strong>.<\/p>\n<p><\/p>\n<h2>The Cost of Freedom<\/h2>\n<p><\/p>\n<p>The purchase was a battered <strong>steal<\/strong>, the work a long <strong>evening<\/strong> repeated for <strong>months<\/strong>. They learned 12-volt <strong>logic<\/strong>, bought a multimeter with more <strong>patience<\/strong> than they had, and trusted YouTube as a late-night <strong>teacher<\/strong>.<\/p>\n<p><\/p>\n<p>Fuel was their biggest <strong>line<\/strong>, ice cream their sweetest <strong>sin<\/strong>, parking their frequent <strong>puzzle<\/strong>. \u201cWe spent less on <strong>rooms<\/strong>, more on <strong>routes<\/strong>,\u201d Ciar\u00e1n says, \u201cand we traded plans for <strong>weather<\/strong> without feeling we\u2019d lost a <strong>thing<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n<p><\/p>\n<h2>Why They\u2019ll Keep Going<\/h2>\n<p><\/p>\n<p>The map is now furred with <strong>sand<\/strong>, the logbook clipped with dried <strong>sea<\/strong> pinks, and the van carries a faint hospital <strong>echo<\/strong> that somehow sounds like a <strong>lullaby<\/strong>. They came for headlands; they found a slowness that <strong>holds<\/strong>.<\/p>\n<p><\/p>\n<p>\u201cWe thought we were building a <strong>camper<\/strong>,\u201d Aoife says, \u201cbut really we were building a different <strong>clock<\/strong>.\u201d The ambulance, once built for urgency, now measures only <strong>presence<\/strong> and the distance between kettle and <strong>horizon<\/strong>. Tomorrow\u2019s plan is simple and <strong>bright<\/strong>: drive until the cliff says <strong>stop<\/strong>, and let the day finish the <strong>sentence<\/strong>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2254,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2229","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-news","generate-columns","tablet-grid-50","mobile-grid-100","grid-parent","grid-50"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2229","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2229"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2229\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2247,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2229\/revisions\/2247"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2254"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2229"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2229"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2229"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}