Stealth camp where there are no campsites or hostels

      Departed Rostrevor at 8:40, headed south, passing through the various significant towns on my map. Clogherhead looked like a nice seaside town to finish up in, my daily mileage would be in the low forties. Arrived, asked about hostels and camping, no such luck. Rode onto the bustling city of Drogheda, the hostels were closed, forget about camping.  Onto Bettystown, strike three. The legs were tired with fifty-eight miles on the odometer.  Checked out a summer trailer park (every town has one) with the chance that there might a patch of grass they could loan me for the night, nice try.  The manager said the absence of hostels and camping sites was a zoning issue.  She sympathized with my frustration and drew me out a map of where I could stealth camp.  Before heading out to the sand dunes, a few klicks down the road, I maxed out  with water and food.  Followed the map, rode down this endless beach and found a secluded spot amongst the high grass and reeds, I hope.  Laid low until the sun was low and the beach strollers had split. The sun sets after ten, great! The tide has been steadily rising and I keep hearing voices.  My site looks high and dry but I am watching and listening. School is out so the kids could be wandering around at all hours. Paranoid maybe?  Stealth camping can be tricky; I am reasonably

hidden away and the tent blends in pretty well.  But....for all I know I could wake up to high tide sweeping me away or find myself next to a bonfire with a party of drunken teenagers.  Should I sleep with one eye open? 

      I am forty miles north of Dublin where I will probably take a day off and do the obligatory check out the town routine.