Here are the available cottages for rental in County Donegal.

A celtic cocktail that leaves you reeling

From the Daily Mail

There's no word of a lie in it: the Irish like to talk. They also go out of their way to be helpful to strangers - which means asking for directions can be an entertaining business.
In Londonderry, I asked two men on a corner where to find a particular pub. One took me by the arm and led me into the road to point out the way; the other followed, offering advice. By now we could all see the pub, 30 yards or so away, but that didn't deter my acquaintances.
'Just down there on the left. You'll find a pedestrianised crossing opposite. It should take you, oh, the best part of a couple of minutes if you don't rush.' I was left with the feeling, not for the first time, that the one thing you will never lack in Ireland is friendship - and especially not in Londonderry.
This compact city is intriguing - and blessed with a beautiful location. Standing on the opposite bank of the River Foyle, you look across to a miniature walled city, with deep green hills behind and the silvery sweep of the river before you. Londonderry sits on a low bluff, the perfect position for a trading settlement, and, indeed, the site has been continuously inhabited since the 6th century.
Inside the 17th-century stone walls, the city is small enough that you can see clearly from one arched gate across to another. Walking the mile-long ramparts provides wonderful views over the town and river; and inside the walls lie several small gems. St Columba's Long Tower Roman Catholic church houses two exquisite paintings by Raphael. The Protestant St Columb's Cathedral dates from 1633 and is perfectly preserved.
Some 60% of the city's population is under 25, a fact reflected in the buzzy pubs, cafes and restaurants. In the Metro Bar, a noisy lunchtime crowd was demolishing pints of Harp and Guinness. From the name, I had expected trendy minimalism, but it was a solid, old-fashioned local with a mixed clientele. The bar staff were young and cheery: middle-aged housewives sat laughing together.
An old boy with a newspaper was studying the racing form and watching the bar TV as his horses came in - usually unplaced. 'I've been sitting here since God was a boy,' he said, as I commiserated. 'I'll never learn.'
That night, Oyster's restaurant, with its wooden floor and uncluttered decor, turned out not to have oysters on its menu ('except on special occasions') but it did have the best Tom Yam soup I have tasted outside Thailand, and superb pan-seared salmon. ... more

A celtic cocktail that leaves you reeling

From the Daily Mail

There's no word of a lie in it: the Irish like to talk. They also go out of their way to be helpful to strangers - which means asking for directions can be an entertaining business.
In Londonderry, I asked two men on a corner where to find a particular pub. One took me by the arm and led me into the road to point out the way; the other followed, offering advice. By now we could all see the pub, 30 yards or so away, but that didn't deter my acquaintances.
'Just down there on the left. You'll find a pedestrianised crossing opposite. It should take you, oh, the best part of a couple of minutes if you don't rush.' I was left with the feeling, not for the first time, that the one thing you will never lack in Ireland is friendship - and especially not in Londonderry.
This compact city is intriguing - and blessed with a beautiful location. Standing on the opposite bank of the River Foyle, you look across to a miniature walled city, with deep green hills behind and the silvery sweep of the river before you. Londonderry sits on a low bluff, the perfect position for a trading settlement, and, indeed, the site has been continuously inhabited since the 6th century.
Inside the 17th-century stone walls, the city is small enough that you can see clearly from one arched gate across to another. Walking the mile-long ramparts provides wonderful views over the town and river; and inside the walls lie several small gems. St Columba's Long Tower Roman Catholic church houses two exquisite paintings by Raphael. The Protestant St Columb's Cathedral dates from 1633 and is perfectly preserved.
Some 60% of the city's population is under 25, a fact reflected in the buzzy pubs, cafes and restaurants. In the Metro Bar, a noisy lunchtime crowd was demolishing pints of Harp and Guinness. From the name, I had expected trendy minimalism, but it was a solid, old-fashioned local with a mixed clientele. The bar staff were young and cheery: middle-aged housewives sat laughing together.
An old boy with a newspaper was studying the racing form and watching the bar TV as his horses came in - usually unplaced. 'I've been sitting here since God was a boy,' he said, as I commiserated. 'I'll never learn.'
That night, Oyster's restaurant, with its wooden floor and uncluttered decor, turned out not to have oysters on its menu ('except on special occasions') but it did have the best Tom Yam soup I have tasted outside Thailand, and superb pan-seared salmon. ... more

Donegal at a canter

'Where's the sun?' Shaun asked, not looking up from the map. He had barely looked up from it since we set off the day before.
Shame really, considering the Celtic landscapes drifting past at the pace of an Irish hunter.
I had appointed him Map Monitor, married as I am to a human compass who can be turned around in the dark in a blindfold and still point north.
So it was disconcerting to be asked for the sun.
'To our left?' I suggested wildly. 'Behind us,' said Serena, our eldest. 'In the sky,' Ben thought.
'The sun isn't ever behind us,' Alexander pointed out, rather in the way that he explains why the plughole drains anti-clockwise in the northern hemisphere.
Sadly, further explanations were absorbed by the wind-tossed sighs of the forest.
Riding is a great midwife to conversation when there are two of you but five horses walk just far enough apart, and make just enough noise, to render verbal communication infuriating.
'What did you say?' we had spent much of the holiday saying, at an uncomfortable sort of trot, trying to catch up with the snatches of conversation of the two in front.
The Donegal Trail is the brainchild of Colette and Tilman Anhold. You get a horse and a map and are left in the middle of nowhere (Ireland still has middles of nowhere) to be picked up in 10 days.
The couple who told us about it recounted terrifying tales of horses in bog up to their shoulders and superfit riders with decades of horsemanship. Perfect. ... more

Donegal at a canter

'Where's the sun?' Shaun asked, not looking up from the map. He had barely looked up from it since we set off the day before.
Shame really, considering the Celtic landscapes drifting past at the pace of an Irish hunter.
I had appointed him Map Monitor, married as I am to a human compass who can be turned around in the dark in a blindfold and still point north.
So it was disconcerting to be asked for the sun.
'To our left?' I suggested wildly. 'Behind us,' said Serena, our eldest. 'In the sky,' Ben thought.
'The sun isn't ever behind us,' Alexander pointed out, rather in the way that he explains why the plughole drains anti-clockwise in the northern hemisphere.
Sadly, further explanations were absorbed by the wind-tossed sighs of the forest.
Riding is a great midwife to conversation when there are two of you but five horses walk just far enough apart, and make just enough noise, to render verbal communication infuriating.
'What did you say?' we had spent much of the holiday saying, at an uncomfortable sort of trot, trying to catch up with the snatches of conversation of the two in front.
The Donegal Trail is the brainchild of Colette and Tilman Anhold. You get a horse and a map and are left in the middle of nowhere (Ireland still has middles of nowhere) to be picked up in 10 days.
The couple who told us about it recounted terrifying tales of horses in bog up to their shoulders and superfit riders with decades of horsemanship. Perfect. ... more