The Long Way Home

When we met, my wife had one non-negotiable: the beach. I had one too: Estonia. She followed me there that first time the way you follow a friend into a restaurant with no English menu: trusting yet aware of the exit. Now, she may love Estonia more than I do. Our travel system is simple. Estonia every year, plus a new country every two or three. This year the new country was Ireland, which had sat atop both our lists since our honeymoon. We'd see the west of it by campervan, for the first time, with a one-year-old, in the offseason. Then we'd fly on to Estonia to put our daughter in the arms of the great-aunt she's named for. Call it the long way home, with a detour through sheep country. Half the joy of adventure is anticipation. The other half is finding out what you forgot to anticipate. IrelandFour nights in the westThey say the Wild Atlantic Way takes two weeks. We had four nights, so we did one piece of it well: Mayo and Sligo, where the beaches and surf are, which is to say…