We drove past Ballycastle, Ceide Fields, Belderrig Harbour and into the heart of that mountainous, sea-edged bogland that for this plastic paddy is the very soul of Ireland. The sun was doing that 'moving spotlight' thing it does across the vast landscapes down here - lighting up sections of a mountain then sweeping across to light up another one.

The Bangor Erris region has always been so astonishingly unspoilt that it's considered more of a national park than a region. The campsite is a nice friendly set-up. A cosy wooden cabin housing the office and a couple of battered sofas to hang out on, a few substantial-looking tents, a windmill, makeshift toilets - all very eco and quite jolly. We were offered tea and I could have happily settled in there for the night. The protestors were charming and committed - there were some dreadlocked heads, a little ethnic knitwear and, just as I was thinking how interesting it was to be here doing something 'alternative' on a Sunday instead of sitting in some busy pub having a lukewarm roast, I suddenly thought - actually these people and how they live makes a lot of sense.

It's not a 'lifestyle' in the sense that we know it:

replacing working fridges with a Smeg so our friends will think we're cool and then considering ourselves environmentally friendly for not dumping it in our neighbour's skip. These people live their lives, the whole of their lives, with integrity.

I realised that it's me - and the vast majority like me - that are living an 'alternative' life. I believe in all of the things the eco-warriers believe in. That multinationals rarely act out of altruistic motives and that politicians, often unwittingly and misguidedly, act as their puppets. I think we should protect the planet. I say I believe those things but it's just - frankly - too much like hard work to do anything about them. So I live 'alternative' to my belief system - recycling my household waste and throwing a few quid in the direction of relevant causes and pretending to myself that it's enough.

The truth is that I am simply not brave enough to face the truth. Because if I stop long enough and look hard enough at what is happening to the planet, to our landscapes, to our communities, I can't take it in. It's too horrible. So I contain my actions inside the realms of my control; I detox my body so that I don't have to detox the planet.

On our way back we drove past the Shell entrance where all the protests have been going on.

The road was lined with traffic cones and there were two buses full of gardaí. There was an officious, troubled atmosphere - so completely imported, unlike anything I had ever experienced in this area before. I felt angry, but how angry?

Angry enough to go and spend February sleeping in a tent and using an "eco" loo? Or angry enough to break my diet and tuck into a Kit Kat.

Neither as it happens. Tomorrow I'll wake up toxin-free. But what good will it do me in the long run?