Strand Hotel Dugort Achill Co Mayo

Ah yes, the Strand Hotel Dugort in Westport - another weathered sentinel on Ireland's wild western coast where expectations go to die and nostalgia comes with a side of slightly stale chips. I approached this establishment with the same enthusiasm I reserve for dental appointments, only to find myself grudgingly warming to its peculiar charms like a cat in a patch of unexpected sunlight.

Let's address the elephant in the room: this isn't your gleaming five-star palace of modernity. The Strand Hotel Dugort stands defiantly unchanged, as if the last few decades were merely suggestions it chose to ignore. But here's the thing - and I can't believe I'm saying this - there's something oddly compelling about its steadfast refusal to bend to contemporary whims.

The views, I must admit through gritted teeth, are spectacular. Perched above Dugort's golden strand, the hotel offers the kind of panoramic seascape that makes you temporarily forget about the creaking floorboards and that mysterious stain on the corridor carpet that looks suspiciously like a map of Ireland. The Atlantic stretches out before you like nature's own IMAX screen, and even my cynical heart couldn't help but skip a beat at sunset.

Now, about that Guinness. I've tasted enough mediocre pints in my time to fill Galway Bay, but the pull here is surprisingly decent - rich, creamy, and served with the kind of unhurried expertise that seems encoded in the DNA of proper Irish publicans. The bar itself is a testament to the art of creating atmosphere without trying too hard, unlike those plastic-paddy establishments that look like a leprechaun's Instagram feed exploded.

The food... well, here's where things get interesting. The menu reads like a greatest hits compilation of pub grub classics, and while not everything hits the mark (approach the steak with caution unless you're particularly fond of archaeological expeditions), there are genuine surprises. The Penne Carbonara, of all things, emerges as an unlikely hero - generous enough to feed a small village and prepared with the kind of homestyle touch that makes you wonder if someone's Irish grandmother is secretly running the kitchen.

The rooms - and I say this with the reluctant affection of someone who's stayed in enough Irish hotels to write a memoir - are what estate agents might euphemistically call "full of character." They're clean enough, mind you, but decorated with all the flair of someone who stopped reading interior design magazines somewhere around 1987. Yet there's something almost endearing about their steadfast commitment to functionality over fashion.

Service here operates on what I'll charitably call "island time." The staff, a mix of seasoned veterans and eager young things, navigate the fine line between professional efficiency and casual friendliness with varying degrees of success. But there's an authenticity to their approach that makes the occasional wait for your dinner feel less like neglect and more like part of the rhythm of coastal life.

For families, the Strand Hotel Dugort offers what might be its most redeeming quality - a genuine tolerance for children that doesn't feel forced or commercial. Unlike some establishments where children are treated as sophisticated mini-adults or barely tolerated nuisances, here they're simply accepted as part of the fabric of family life, complete with a menu that won't send parents into financial counseling.

Location-wise, you couldn't ask for better. The hotel serves as an ideal base for exploring Achill's wild beauty, from the heart-stopping cliffs of Keem to the windswept expanses of Keel. It's the kind of place that makes you understand why people write poetry about Ireland, even as you're trying to figure out how to work the temperamental shower.

Look, I didn't expect to find myself defending the Strand Hotel Dugort in Westport, but here we are. It's not perfect - far from it - but it's perfectly Irish in all the ways that actually matter. If you're seeking glossy perfection, book yourself into one of those soulless modern hotels that could be anywhere in the world. But if you want to experience a slice of authentic Ireland, with all its quirks and charms intact, you might just find yourself, like me, becoming an unlikely advocate for this stubborn survivor of a changing world. Just don't say I didn't warn you about the steak.