Showing posts with label Hiking Camping Ireland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hiking Camping Ireland. Show all posts

Wednesday 17 June 2020

Hiking The Duhallow Way...Over The Tops.

Heading for Claragh.
To say it has been a bizarre spring would be an understatement. Virus..Pandemic..Lockdown. Somewhat alien words that have become used every day to describe  life. When I went for a wintry outing on Carrauntoohil in the middle of March I didn't think it would be my last outing on the mountains for three months. Finally the lockdown restrictions were being eased and last weekend I jumped at the chance to return to the hills. All I had to do was decide on what to do.

Sunday June 7th;

The mountains of Kerry are still denied to me so I looked for an adventure I could have in Cork. For a few years now I have toyed with the idea of starting a big hike into the west by literally starting from my front door. To do this I could walk the 5 kilometres on the road to the trailhead of the Duhallow Way and from there the wonders of the wilds stretch all the way as far as the Atlantic Ocean. Last September I enjoyed a wonderful four day trip when I started in Millstreet and reached Knocklomeana not far from Sneem. This time I decided to finally start a trip from near home and decided on the Duhallow Way. I would hike for three days, carrying my tent and food and immerse myself in the great outdoors for the first time in a few months. I was really looking forward to it.
Heading for Bweeng Mountain.

Pretty typical walking on day 1.

 I didn't walk the kilometres on the road from home but instead Margaret dropped me at Laharn Cross where I was able to immediately leave the road and start my hike. As is my wont I tend to stray from the strict defined trail and this was no different. Instead of starting from the correct place near Bweeng, I opted instead to hike up and over the tops of the mountain and once that was done I would join the way marked trail. Starting so near to home I enjoyed a leisurely morning and didn't start my hike until 1pm. Even though the height is modest (416mtrs), Bweeng Mountain offers wonderful views, especially to the north and east. On a good clear day, everything from the Slieve Mish near Tralee right across to the Knockmealdowns can be seen. Today was one of those steely grey days when a layer of cloud seemed to leech all colour from the land. It was quite chilly as well, with a stiff breeze coming from the north. Even though I am really familiar with all the trails here abouts, I found that that didn't matter. I found that I was still enjoying myself and had that feeling of anticipation that I always get at the start of a multi day hike. There isn't a lot of climbing to do to reach the summit but there is enough to get the heart pumping. When you throw in the heavy rucksack I was soon sweating, despite the chill breeze.Once you pass the summit then it is easy to join the way-marked trail. This is mainly level as it follows forestry roads as it meanders towards the west. Now the more expansive views to the north are lost as you walk through the trees. One thing that is inescapable though is the wind turbines. Love em or hate em they are undoubtedly spectacular and for the next couple of days they provide an almost constant backdrop on the route. In the stiff breeze they were working at full tilt and in places where just the tips of the blades were visible it was something of a revelation to witness just how fast the tips of the blades traveled. It was easy to see how birds could so easily be killed by them. Another thing that was apparent was that they are not really all that silent. There is a constant thrum of noise in the background and the odd time there is what I can only describe as a muffled mechanical roar. All that said, in the main I found them to be a spectacular backdrop but my mixed feelings remain.
Nice to be out on open ground

Wind turbines are never far away.

After several kilometres the trail leaves the forest and crosses open bog where turf cutting is still practiced. Not the old style manual work of many years ago but the mechanical style, where large hoppers of peat are gouged out and this is spread in long sausage like rows. People then allow it to dry a little, before "footing it" (basically building a stack), dry out much more, before loading it up and taking it home to fuel the fires for the winter. At one stage the trail went through a section of bog that I had last been in some 45 years before, when I used to accompany my father as harvested the peat "old school". It was a surreal and nostalgic experience as I walk close to the actual "banks" where we toiled long ago. This area hadn't seen any turf cutting for decades and it was great to see how much the bog had recovered. It was no longer easy to see where the turf had been cut and heather covered the ground. It all added to the experience of the day and I was really enjoying my outing. I had been on the go by now for over four hours and my mind was turning towards where I would camp for the night. I decided to head as far as Mushera mountain, to a place where I knew there was a water source. It was still a fair way ahead so I pressed on. After passing through some more forestry and open bog you reach another windfarm and shortly after this I left the waymarked trail for a while. I guess the way was diverted when they started building the windfarm but it is still possible to follow the original route that passed by Seefin mountain. This I did and it saves a couple of kilometres on the road. Once you reach the road at the top of the pass, the trail continues onto the slopes of Mushera, literally just the other side.

Home on night 1
Earlier it had been pleasantly warm when the sun emerged so I had taken off my jacket and walked with just a thin baselayer on. If truth be told it was chilly more often than not, but I was loath to stop and retrieve the jacket and I reasoned that once I kept moving I would be comfortable enough. This proved to be the case but by now I was up at nearly 500mtrs and the breeze was strong and unrelenting. I wasn't far from where I would camp so I still resisted the urge to get my jacket. I reached the top of the gully where I hoped to get water, but I had to lose 50 metres in height before I reached it as the spring had been very dry. I filled up my bottles and while the bag was off my back I donned my jacket. Oh my but what a relief the surge in heat was. I hadn't quite realized just how chilled I had become. I climbed back up to the saddle and set off to find a spot for the tent. On the saddle itself the wind was strong so I went a few hundred metres to the leeward side and soon found a suitable spot. Finally, nearly 6.5 hours after setting off I was able to take shelter in my tent and set about making dinner. I settled down to relax for what remained of the evening before finally settling down to sleep.

It had been a fine start to the trip and I had covered 26.5 kilometres, climbed 800 metres in 6.5 hours.

Monday June 8th;

Last nights camp hadn't been entirely successful. As the great Gorge W Bush once said "I misunderestinated" how chilly it would get in the night. Once again I brought my 1 season sleeping bag and it didn't quite live up to the task. For the sake of a couple of hundred grams my down bag would have been so much better. The breeze had died during the night and I emerged to a cool, steely grey morning. I wasn't in any great rush and I relaxed and enjoyed a nice warming brew after some muesli before finally shifting myself and getting on the move by 9am. It is still a thrill to start a new day on a hike and after leaving no trace, just head off on an adventure new. It was less than a two hundred metre climb to reach the broad summit of Mushera at 644mtrs. I had no delusions about hiking in a baselayer this morning and I was certainly glad of the protection of my down jacket as I stood and admired the extensive views. This is a summit I often visit when the weather is wild and stormy. It is relatively safe due to the rock free nature of the terrain, but it is high enough and bleak enough to provide an exhilarating experience at those times. It wasn't that bad this morning though and I enjoyed a brief rest before setting off down to the road head some 260 metres lower down. At  the road I once again rejoined the Duhallow Way and I followed the markers all the way to Claragh Mountain.

Caherbarna is a long way away from the summit of Mushera.

Claragh beyond the forestry. 10 Kilometres on the road.

I love visiting these ancient monuments. Stone circle and standing stone en-route.
I must say I wasn't really looking forward to this section as it entailed over 10 kilometres on tarmac. I found however that the majority of this is on pretty, quiet, empty country lanes that provided stress free, easy walking. I was enjoying the mix of agricultural and forest views and all in all it was better than I expected. That is until after maybe 8 kilometres I started to get some pain above both ankles and I guess that this was caused by wearing B1 mountain boots. A softer, more flexible boot would have been easier. Things weren't helped either by the fact that once I reached the busy main road near Millstreet I missed the turn off for the trail and an unnecessary 2 kilometres was endured, just where it was least pleasant. When I did find the right trail I was pleased to find that it rose gently through pastures full of swooping swallows and ewes and their lambs. It was by now pleasantly warm in these more sheltered environs and I basked in warm sun and enjoyed a bite to eat. Once past the derelict Mount Leader house I once again reached familiar ground as I started the climb of Claragh Mountain. I followed the "Way" for a while before once again deviating and heading for the modest but handsome summit. I would recommend that everybody who does the Duhallow Way include this top in their outing as it is a simple thing to rejoin the route from the top.
Mount Leader House

From the top I decided to continue along to the saddle between Claragh and Curracahill and I would head as far as Caherbarna before I would camp for the evening. I have done this hike several times before and I knew that is a long slog over rough ground, so I knew that I still had plenty of work to do. I had been moving for over 5 hours by now and my ankles were quite painful so I pressed on and looked forward to reaching a place where I could put up my tent and let my ankles recover. I decided that I would continue over Caherbarna and descend to the gap between the northwest top and Knocknabro where I knew there was a fine spot to camp. On reaching the top of Curracahill there follows a rough traverse above the rough glen that holds Kippagh Lough. It is tempting to try and shorten the journey by cutting across the upper edges of the glen but this leads to torturous rough ground. It is better to stay high and walk the long way around until you reach the lower slopes of the ridge that eventually leads to Caherbarna. Up here the breeze was getting stronger and the sun had once again retreated behind a veil of cloud so the temperatures dropped. The views were still lovely and as you rise to up over 2000 feet the drop to the north gets steeper and steeper. To the south a large windfarm stretches away all the way to Mullaghanish which is topped by its giant communication mast. I was fairly tired by the time I eventually reached the top of Caherbarna but I was also buoyed by the fact I knew I didn't have too far to go. I crossed to the northwest top and descended the easy ground to the saddle. I found my camping spot and soon had my home up for the night. A very pleasant evening morphed into night and I slept well.
From Claragh there is still a ways to go.

Lough Kippagh. Don't be tempted by the shortcut

More turbines and Mullaghanish with its 225 metre mast.

Tomorrows destination..The Paps

Home for night 2


30 kilometres in 8hours 15 minutes with 1100 metres ascent.

Tuesday June 9th;

Today was the final day of the trip. There wasn't any breeze this morning and the first thing I noticed when I exited the tent was the unwelcome attentions of midges. It wasn't warm but they were still around in numbers so I stayed in my tent while I had breakfast and once I was packed up and on the move they bothered me no more. I was heading as far as The Paps today and I would then walk as far as the village of Rathmore where I would either catch a train to nearer home or Margaret would collect me. I was on the move at 7am and once again the only company I had was the wonderful song of the skylarks. Even though you are not too far from civilization on these hills you are still removed from it. There is a delicious wild feel to the place and the chances are that you will have it all to yourself. The going is pretty easy all the was to the pass under the Paps, where at the rough road that cuts through the pass I reached the end of the Duhallow Way. Next up comes the steep and unrelenting 400 metre climb to the top of the East Pap. There was nothing for it but put the head down and keep putting one foot in front of the other and it eventually passed. The nature of the day seemed to be changing. The stiff chilly breeze also brought the odd drop of rain. I hoped that it would hold off for a while yet. These hills offer a wonderful viewpoint, especially the west top which was next on the agenda. I wasted no time in setting off for it and once there I wasted no time in beginning my descent. There was a train at 12 noon so I decided to try and make that. It always comes as a surprise just how much warmer it gets when you return to the low ground. Not only is the breeze lighter but the temps are better. Today once I reached the road the sun also made an appearance and it was positively balmy. I quickly realized that it would have been a real race to try and get the train so I rang home and Margaret agreed to collect me. It made the 10 kilometres walk on the road more enjoyable. Mind you it is still 10 kilometres on tarmac and once again my feet were tired by the time I reached the village. It had been wonderful to return to the hills.
Nearing The Paps with the Reeks rising beyond

Summit cairn

Shrone Lake

The way way back. Nothing too spectacular but definitely wild.



18 kilometres in 5 hours 20 minutes with 750 metres ascent.

Monday 28 October 2019

4 Days in Glorious Connemara

After a very nice family trip to the Riviera and the Mercantour National Park in the south of France it was back to more familiar landscapes for me again. As I still had a week left before I had to return to work I decided to head to Connemara for a four day break just a day after returning home.
First a few words on the France trip. We flew into Nice and enjoyed the delights of this beautiful vibrant city for a couple of days before hiring a car and enjoying the delights of the wonderful mountain villages and mountain scenery of the Mercantour National Park. Our hotel in Nice was right by the airport but the new tram to the city centre makes getting around really easy. One of the highlights for me was getting up each morning and running along the wonderful Promenade des Anglais at dawn before going for a refreshing swim in the warm waters. It was a wonderful way to start each day. We drove up into the surrounding hills and saw several villages perched atop rock bluffs and exploring their myriad convoluted alleys and little shops was a delight. Personally though I found them a little too touristy and I preferred the slightly down at heel charm of Gilette, St Martin Vesubie and Sospel more. People lived in these dark alleys and it was an authentic and charming experience to explore these places. We got a terrific thunderstorm on our second night and morning in the mountains and this created some difficulty in driving as rockfall and some landslides occurred. At one point we just pulled over off the road during a particularly torrential spell of rain and while waiting some spatters of mud and water started to hit the window of the car as a new rivulet of run off started. Thankfully I was able to move the car out of the way and I feared it was just the precursor of a much bigger slip but it came to nothing and soon the weather cleared and we were back in Mediterranean weather once again. It did mean however that the following day out access to a high mountain road where the full glory of the highest in the park could be enjoyed was still blocked by a landslide. At St Martin Vesubie I went for a run up through the village and along a trail to above the town before returning into the village and back to our accommodation and it was a bit surreal to realize that some of what I had run I had walked a couple of years before as part of the Gr52A route. That time I was completely enchanted by the autumn colour in the forests and I had hoped that Margaret would get to see this for herself on this trip but I guess we were too early. Still it gives us an excuse to return.
The wonderful Promenade des Anglais in Nice

who is going to be top cat



CONNEMARA

Friday October 18th;

I must be getting old. My enthusiasm for another trip was not great as I guess i was still a little fatigued after the French trip and the weather for the weekend was, while okay, not riviera standsrds either. I prevaricated during the morning as to whether I would go or not. Then I oscillated between a hotel, hostel or camping stay until finally deciding to take my trusty Terra Nova Voyager tent and head to the wonderful Clifden Eco Beach campsite. A flurry of last minute packing meant it was nearly 12.30 by the time I finally left for the long (265 kilometre) drive into the wild west. Heavy downpours marked the first hour of the trip but as I got further beyond Limerick then it became much much better and suddenly I was really looking forward to the trip.
The long drive was uneventful and eventually I pulled in to the wild and wonderful campsite that as the name suggests is right beside a beautiful beach. Once I had  checked in and my home was sorted I wasted no time in setting off on a run but it was still almost 17.30 by the time I began. Of course sods law meant that I almost immediately got drenched by a rogue shower which, considering it was just 11 or 12 degrees anyway meant it was while before I warmed up. I ran along the quiet lane right to the end of the headland and around a lake before retracing my route to the tent. It was a little longer than I had thought (over 16 kilometres) and it was getting quite dim by the time I got back but it felt great to be out and active in this wild and wonderful place.

Saturday October 19th;

One of the major attractions of Connemara is its mountains and today I planned is doing one of the finest walks in the country. The Owenglin Horseshoe is a big round in the Twelve Bens that takes in six main summits as well as a few other subsidiary tops so it is not to be taken lightly. The forecast for today was for rain in the morning before a clear in the afternoon. It had rained quite heavily during the night and there were still lots of showers on the go as I drove to the start of the route. I put on the full raingear and was on the move by 10.15. I opted to do the route in a clockwise direction today and as I had parked near the quarry at the end of the lane I was very shortly on the sodden boggy ground. The lower flatter ground was running with water but once I reached the steeper slopes heading towards the crest of the broad ridge it became easier to find better underfoot conditions. Once I reached the ridge new vistas opened up and to the west Tully mountain and Diamond Hill looked stunning . To make things even better, the weather was showing signs of improving as well. Some showers still dotted about but I stayed predominantly dry. The tops were mostly free from cloud as well so I was  able to enjoy these wonderful mountain views throughout.



First up in the way of main tops comes Maumonght. This is up over 600 metres but has a big feel as low ground lies in all directions except east. In that direction three more mountains stood proud before the cloud capped Benbaun provided the turning point. The dropship and consequent climbs are substantial so by the time I reached the summit of Benbaun I had climbed over 1000 metres. One rather sad encounter I had was with a blind sheep on the summit of Benfree. It stood facing me as I approached before fleeing uncertainly in random, sometimes circular bursts. I could see its milky eyes and I didn't fancy its chances given the nature of the terrain and of course the approaching winter.  On a more positive note the weather continued to improve and the odd ray of sunshine added to the glory of the views. After Benbaun I descended to the low gap below Benfree not and enjoyed a bite to eat in this wonderful spot. The true rugged majesty of these mighty little mountains is fully realised here and I believe that metre for metre there is nothing to compare with The Bens in these islands.










After my repast I climbed to the rugged rocky convoluted ridge and here the full extent of that other great round on these hills the Glencoaghan Horseshoe is fully revealed. On top of all that there views south over Benlettery and beyond to Roundstone Bog and the chaotic mix of lake, sea and bog near Carna was stunning. One final big drop and climb saw me on Bengower before I dropped, turned and climbed over Bengliniskey before descending easily down to the road and back to the car. The sun had long since won the battle for supremacy and it was now after crisp beautiful autumn day. I arrived back at the car quite delighted with my day. Such a quality outing had made the long journey well worth the effort.
I returned to the campsite and despite the lateness in the year I decided to chance a dip in the sea. Despite it being a chilly 12 degrees I was hopeful that the sea still had some residual hear from the summer...I was wrong. I managed only a few paces into the chill waters before my legs started to pain so an ignominious and rapid retreat ensued. I guess the sea will still be there next July.


Sunday October 20th;

Today was supposed to be the best weather day of the weekend so I decided to go for a cycle. Mind you it was a little bit of a disappointment to emerge to less than a blue sky morning and some rain was still to be seen and there was a stiff chilly breeze. My plan was to head through Cleggan, onto Letterfrack before pedaling through the wonderful Inagh Valley and returning via Clifden. If I was feeling super good I might extend the trip by including Roundstone and Ballyconeely. I put on plenty of clothes and I set off into the wild countryside along the damp quiet lanes. After Cleggan I turned inland and after passing a lake, beyond which the mountains looked great, I joined the main road and turned towards Letterfrack. It was at times tough going when I was into the wind but I was in no hurry and I was enjoying the ever wilder scenery as I went. Beyond the chocolate box pretty Kylemore Abbey and lake I turned into the incomparable Inagh Valley which runs between the Twelve Bens and the Maumturk Mountains. I was really looking forward to this section and it was made all the sweeter as the wind was now at my back.


If you are going to go for a cycle it might as well be somewhere like this
The mountains were at times getting a good drenching from frequent showers and they looked all the more spectacular for that. I enjoyed the entire passage and eventually I reached the main road again and turned for Clifden. As the last section had been down wind I wasn't feeling too bad so I decided to head for Roundstone and so extend the trip. By the time I reached the pretty seaside village I was perhaps regretting my enthusiasm but a nice coffee and chocolate biscuit eased the hardship. I wasn't feeling too bad when I recommenced and the wild open land and sea views were delightful. At least that was until I got about half way to Ballyconneely when I once again turned into the wind and my fatigue was back in force as I struggled to make headway. I was into the wind most of the way back and it is fair to say that I was well and truly spent by the time I eventually reached the campsite. It had taken me 4 hours 40 minutes (including breaks) to complete the 62 miles and there had been some 800 metres of ascent. I was a quiet  boy for the rest of the evening and after a shower it was straight into my sleeping bag for a long sleep.

The GPS died.
Monday October 21st;

I was heading home today but before the long drive I wanted to get one more hillwalk in. A few hours on the Maumturks would fit the bill nicely. It was a gorgeous morning and the wonderful landscape was looking its splendid best as I drove to the carpark below Mauméan. The route I opted for was to climb the section between Mauméan and Maumahoge which traverses the highest in the range, the rather oddly named Binn idir an dá Log. I left the car shortly after 10 am and headed up the easy track towards the pass. In my rush to leave home I had forgotten to bring a lock for my bike so I felt it was vulnerable to being taken as it was just tied onto the rack on the back of the car. I tried to dismiss my fears but they continued to nag me throughout. Aside from that the outing was great. The long steep pull to Binn Chaonaigh (633 metres) seemed to go on and on. Just when you are sure the top is near you crest a steep bit and more is revealed. That said, when you finally reach the large flat area at the top the effort is so well worth it. The ground is now wonderfully rocky and the views aren't bad either. Across the Inagh Valley the Bens looked great but there is so much more to see. Lough Corrib stretched into the distance in the west and to the north Joyce Country and the Mayo mountains look wonderful. To the south the silvered sea stretched to infinity and Carna and Roundstone still looked great. The way ahead is rather serpentine and after a 100 metre drop the ridge rises gradually until finally you reach the wild summit of Binn idir dá Log.







I didn't delay and I took a direct line northwest to the easier ground far below and then I crossed the boggy ground until I reached the road. This I followed for the few kilometres back to the car. I had myself completely convinced that my bike would be gone so I was delighted to see everything was as I left it when I arrived. I sat in the sunshine and enjoyed my lunch before setting off on the long journey home. It had been a fitting end to the trip.
Just about 11 kilometres 860 metres ascent in 3 hours.