Even if you’re not religious, it’s impossible to escape Ireland’s spirituality. It’s rooted in the history and heritage — the number of early pagan and Christian sites here rivals that of McDonald’s restaurants stateside — and is augmented by the soft rain, the luminescent light, the frequent rainbows and the enchanted, raw beauty of the landscape. Even when it’s the farthest thing from your mind, it nips at your heels.

On an afternoon walk in Malin, at the tip of Donegal’s Inishowen Peninsula, I stumbled upon the ruins of a holy well and 16th-century church, tangled amid grass and weeds on a narrow strip of rocky beach flanked by cliffs and sea. Legend has it that St. Muirdhealach built the church by this natural spring, revered for its healing properties, and sheltered in the sea-carved grotto behind it. Locals say that no matter how many enter this small cave, known as the Wee House of Malin, there’s always room for one more.

After poking about the ruins, I padded along the shoreline, listening to the tide’s roar as it rolled over the rocks and whooshed through the sea caves. When passing clouds released a driving rain, I sought shelter in the Wee House of Malin. Like others before me, I made a wish, tucked a coin into a crag and watched and waited, safe in the calm, as the storm’s bluster ceded to a soft, refreshing and renewing rain.