Monday 23 January 2012

January 2012

January 2012,

Brian McSweeney et Moi



On the Galtee Ridge
I haven't posted anything so far in 2012 so this is an account of what has been happening so far. I started off the new year with a hike on the Galtees with Brian McSweeny and Brian o'Donnell. Brian Mac I have known for a long time through his work at Mahers Outdoor Shop. This was my first time meeting the other Brian and I thoroughly enjoyed his company. Even though I have known Brian Mac for years this was my first time out on the hills with him. His enthusiasm is infectious and the time flew as we chatted and planned and compared notes on past exploits in various locations. We were generally lucky with the weather as we climbed up from the southern side of the range on the Attychran Horseshoe. There was a high cloud base but a strong bitingly cold wind ensured that that we were well wrapped up and kept moving.

Startled Hare
A definite improvement
Gentle Galty mountains
One delightful event was when we came upon a sleeping hare that was unaware of our approach until we got within about ten meters. Another curiosity was how much white was to be seen on its coat. Irish hares are not supposed to change their coats in winter but nobody told this fellow. The amount of white on him would ensure that he would be difficult to spot in the occassional snowy conditions that can be found. From GaltyMore we went along the ridge to Lyracappul and after a bite to eat we returned to our cars in Kings Yard via Carrigeen Mountain. On our descent our luck with the weather ran out and we were blasted by horizontal hailstones for about twenty minutes. I was sorry I hadn't put on my waterproof trousers and I was well soaked by the freezing water when I got back to the car. We said our goodbyes and promised to have other days out together in the future. I look forward to our next adventure.

Sunday January 8th;

Yet again I was off to the Galtees today and I was delighted to have the gregarious Kevin Ring for company. Any day out with Kevin is a good day and this one proved no exception. Having had only one outing with him since our all too brief trip to the Alps last summer it was great to get out and have a natter. We opted for the most westerly mountain in the range Temple Hill. This was the location for my first ever hill walk. A fair few years ago now, a very overweight me was cajoled and encouraged up the hill by Pascal Sweeney. The weather that day was cloudy and wet but I was hooked and I owe Pascal a huge debt for that introduction to the great outdoors. Anyway back to the present and our adventure began even before we left the car, as thanks to my extraordinary navigation skills we went up the wrong approach road and so started off from a different location at Scrowmore rather than Pigeonrock Glen.

The south ridge of Temple Hill is a long gentle slope and as the weather was good there was little pause in the conversation. Soon we were at the summit and we headed for Lyracappul. The steep 220mtr pull to the summit ensured that I had a good appetite for lunch. As we ate we were joined by a large group from some club or other. We left the crowded top and descended down into the atmospheric glen under Knockaterrif Mor and followed the Blackrock river out until we joined the Pigeonrock Glen. Here thanks to my great navigating we had a stiff hundred meter pull over the shoulder of Temple Hill and then back to the car. It was a short outing but a very enjoyable one. We firmed up on our commitment to head to Scotland together and headed home.

Kenmare; January 10th to 13th;

Due to one thing and another and since I had some time off from work, my wife Margaret and I booked a house from the Bay Hotel Kenmare for a few days and headed down on Tuesday afternoon. One bonus of this trip was that we were able to take Ruby. Kenmare is a lovely little town nestled on the shores of the Kenmare river that divides the Everagh and the Beara peninsulas. Busy and brimming with tourists in the high season at this time of year it is quieter but still has loads to offer. So after checking in and getting ourselves settled I went for a very nice 9 kilometer run along by the river. Since the start of the new year I had begun a new dieting and exercise regime in an effort to try and shed some of the excess pounds and regain a good level of fitness. I knew I would lapse on this break so I was determined to try and stay a little ahead of the game. Ruby is such an odd little dog and found her new surroundings very strange. She was on constant alert over the few days. After we arrived she followed me up the stairs, but as we live in a bungalow she is not familiar with them and she refused to come back down. However she soon mastered the trick and thereafter the whole house was hers to explore.

Approaching Adrigole
On Wednesday morning I got up at seven and got myself ready for a good cycle. I planned to cycle to Glengarriff and from there to Adrigole, from there to Lauragh and then back to Kenmare. This involved about 90 kilometers and over 3000ft of climbing. As I hadn't been doing much on the bike (almost zero) this was a fairly ambitious outing. Unfortunately the weather wasn't great with an occasional drizzle and cloud down to about 300mtrs. I don't know what I was thinking when I looked out the door at 07.40 and was surprised to see it was still dark. I waited for another 15minutes and left in the predawn drizzle and headed for Glengarriff. The one saving grace was that there was very little wind and so despite the gloom I was soon enjoying myself. The first major hill over the county bounds into Cork passed off ok and I was enjoying the long downhill section into Glengarriff. From here I turned into what breeze there was and headed for Adrigole. I hadn't reckoned for the substantial hill on this road and struggled a fair bit on the steep rise to the highest point in this section 400ft higher than I started. Still from here the ride to Adrigole is fine and I was soon approaching the bay.The one disappointment was the low cloud that mostly masked the stunning views. Hungry Hill rises up behind the village of Adrigole and is in my opinion one of the most savage and beautiful hills in Ireland. It is a mountain I still have much to explore and there are many good top grade scrambles that I must do.
Winding road to the Healy Pass

View from the Healy Pass
Anyway today I was on a different mission and it was with increasingly weary legs I turned towards the Healy Pass. This is the closest thing we have to an Alpine style road in Ireland and it twists and turns its way towards the coll. It offers another 300mtrs of climbing and though the gradient is fairly gentle it goes on and on, so I was greatly relieved to finally reach the pass. Here I stopped for some chocolate and enjoyed the views down across Glanmore Lake. Another long descent takes you into the tiny hamlet of Lauragh and this heralds the final ascent of the route. I knew it was coming and what to expect but my lack of fitness and practice on the bike was now telling and I was bolloxed by the time I reached the top. I still had about 18 kilometers to go back to the house and I have seldom ached as much in any endeavour before. When I arrived back at the house my legs buckled under me when I dismounted from the bike. Still a long hot soak in the bath went some way to restoring me to normal and lets just say I enjoyed every morsel of the gigantic portion of apple tart and cream I had that afternoon in Sneem village. The rest of the break was spent relaxing and doing all the usual touristy things. Kenmare is a lovely spot and I would hope to go back again in the not too distant future. One thing I am resolved to do is return and enjoy that cycle in hopefully better weather.

Sunday January 22nd;
A happy Frank

Approaching the Horses Glen
At long last Frank Kluzniac and myself managed to have a day out on the hills. We opted for Mangerton near Killarney. As this was Franks first time out since July last year we decided to take things nice and steady. We set off up the boggy track and opted to go in the Horses Glen and climb Mangerton North and from there across to Mangerton itself and back down the tourist track. There was a large crowd getting ready to climb this ever popular mountain. A large contingent from the Tralee group and I was delighted to meet Conny Looney who suffered a very nasty fall down a gully when on a Killarney group outing two years ago. He is now fully recovered and back to his usual self on the hills. The weather was also playing ball and although there was a cold breeze there was little promise of rain and the cloud was above the summits. A very convivial outing followed and a highlight of the day was when we were treated to a great view of a pair of soaring eagles from the summit of Mangerton North. Despite Franks lack of hill time he performed very well and I hope he got the encouragement he needed to go out more often. All going well we will venture out again in a couple of weeks.

Friday 16 December 2011

Beenkerach winter walk

Coumeengeragh, I went up the mixed ground on the right.


Carrountoohil east face
I went back to the Reeks yesterday for a hike. The day was clear and cold so I was hopeful that decent snow conditions might be found. As I drove back the temperature rose from a chilly 2degrees at home to 7degrees by the time I arrived in Killarney. It is amazing how often this happens. If these mountains were located just fifty miles further east they would offer good climbing much more often. Anyway there was still a decent coating above 600mtrs so I decided to have a look at Coumeengeragh Gully. This starts at just about 600mtrs and forms a nice line to the Col just to the west of Beenkerach. Unfortunately it was immediately obvious that the gully was full of unconsolidated powder so I broke out to the right and climbed up the mixed ground to the ridge. This gave some reasonable fun with an average angle of 45degrees. After all the chilly weather and rail and sleet I felt sure that there would have been a big dumping on high but alas no, there was only a wind scoured dusting on top and only small accumulations on the leeward slopes. Still the day offered a nice taste of winter and who knows , maybe the cold weather will endure over the Christmas and I may get out again.
The Eastern Reeks

Saturday 10 December 2011

Pyrenees Hike December 2011, A short hop on the GR 10


A short hop on the GR 10.

Pretty much on the spur of the moment, I decided to quit the dreary dull winter we were having, and Ibooked a flight to Barcelona, with the objective of walking from the Mediterranean Sea to Andorra. So, off I set to Dublin on Thursday 1st of December and stayed overnight, before my flight on Friday morning. Everything went well and I landed in Barcelona just after 1pm. I caught the train from the airport to Figueres, and stayed there on Friday night, with the intention of heading to Banyuls Sur Mer, just over the border in France, on Saturday morning. I went for a walk around Figueres and got the maps and gas I needed. It is a nice town, with lots of quaint squares and buildings. Later, I visited a bar and internet cafe. There were about five others there besides myself, and loud dance music filled the air. The barmaid was entertaining the punters by shaking (almost vibrating) her booty as she looked at her laptop. The highlight for me was the ecstatic dance that a guy made when he won some money on a gaming machine. His beaming face and funky dance had me laughing well into the night.

Saturday Dec 3rd,


My train was leaving at 9am, so I had time to have another stroll about town, and get a bite of breakfast. I was delighted to see that a couple of the squares were now full of stalls selling all kinds of food. Lots of people were milling about getting their daily groceries. I wandered through one market, and picked up a smoked chorizo to take up the mountains with me. What can I say, but if I had the chance again, I would have got a few dozen, to hell with the weight. It was delicious. So different to what we are served here. Anyway, after a nice coffee and pastry, I returned to my digs and collected my BIG bag, and caught my train. It is a short trip, but I had to change trains in Cerbere, and there wait for an hour for the connection to Banyuls. This afforded me the opportunity to explore the little town, that tumbled down to a nice little cove on the shore. I had a little wander about, and as I returned towards the train station, a drunk with his dog fell in with me, and started pratteling away. He started in French and then switched to Spanish, when my responses dried up completely, he then asked me where I was from, and when I told him, he switched again to perfect (almost) English. It made me feel a bit ashamed of my linguistic limitations. I thought when I reached the station he would be off, but no, he followed me in and sat alongside me on the platform. When he boarded the train as well, and alighted with me in Banyuls Sur Mer, I was more than a little worried that I would have a companion for my trip, but thankfully, he said a quick farewell and I was left alone to face my adventure.

Looking back at Banyuls Sur Mer
A walk of 500mtrs, saw me reach the trail where it passed under the railway line. Seeing the red and white paint mark on the wall was great, and I knew, that now at last, the real trip had begun.  So I was off. The track twists and winds its way up the hillside, and soon I was after rising well above the village. Lovely views back towards the sea, competed with the exciting landscape that lay ahead. There is a definite arid look to the landscape here. There are large cacti and agave adorning many of the gardens, and the scrubby nature of the flora, and overall brown appearance of the landscape, gives the area an almost desert like feel. There was a stiff breeze blowing, but the temperature was mild, and it was great to be walking in just a base layer with the sleeves rolled up in December. Onwards and upwards, and each time I rounded a new corner, or crested a new ridge or coll, there were new sights to greet me. My bag was heavy, about 22kg at the start, which had food for four days, all my camping needs and clothes etc. I was actually quite pleased that I was able to climb so well with it. Of course the tracks are perfectly engineered, and are designed to allow you to gain height with the optimum of effort. Eventually I arrived at Col de Bailloury, and here I enjoyed a great view over the large plain that stretches north towards Narbonne, and blends into the blue Mediterranean Sea.
Looking north
From here on the landscape becomes wilder, and the rock buttresses of the first peak, Pic Sailfort 981mtrs, are to the fore. The track wends and winds its way up the flanks, and eventually, you emerge onto a wide plateau, and the extensive forests of Don Des Alberes, sweep away to the north. This was a grand spot for lunch, although, sitting at 3000 feet in December meant there was now a definite chill in the wind. It felt great to be here, and the feeling of freedom, and exploration, I had was exhilarating. I didn't tarry too long as I was eager to get on. The trail continued over open alpine pastures, crossing Pic de la Carbassere, and on to Pic des Quatre Termes 1156mtrs. Here, the trail dives into the forest, and I found it quite difficult to follow at times, as the forest floor was covered with leaves. At times, the only indications of the way ahead, were the often too infrequent markings on the trees. Almost inevitably, I took a wrong turn, and had to take a forest road for an extra couple of kilometers, before I regained the track . I eventually reached Col de L'Orry 1010mtrs, and was surprised to see that Banyuls Sur Mer was already 22.5 kilometers behind me. The day was now shoving on, and I still had a fair bit to go before I reached my target for the day, Pic Neulos 1256mtrs.
Still a fair bit to go.
Fatigue was now playing its part, and the weight of the bag, was taking its toll on my shoulders, as well as other places. I opted not to stay in the bothy like Refuge de la Tagnarede, and chose instead, to camp about a kilometer further on, near a water source, just under the Pic. It was great to drop the bag, and soon I was engrossed in finding a good spot for the tent, and once this was done, getting the stove going. Before too long I was settled and ready for the night. It was a wonderful spot, with uninterrupted views south to Spain, and north to France, I was right on the border on the crest of the ridge. The breeze had long since died, and it was very pleasant to sit outside, at about 4000ft, in December, enjoy a brew and wonderful views, in the fading light. This was what I had hoped for, and all in all, I was very satisfied with the day. I was beginning to realize that covering the distances I had envisaged, would be difficult if not impossible, but I was determined not to put myself under any pressure, and since I was carrying all I needed on my back, I could be completely flexible with my plans. Not long after I had retired in to my tent for the night, it started to rain, and this continued well into the night. Still, I was snug and dry in my nest, and I way happy to drift off to sleep, soothed by the patter of the rain on canvas. 
So ended day 1.

Sunday Dec 4th,
I awoke to a dry cloudless day. The rain of the previous night was well gone and the ground was dry and the air was quite mild. I had slightly overslept, and I quickly busied myself with the task of breakfasting and readying for the off. It's amazing where the time goes, and it was gone 9am before I set off once again. I could have skirted around the summit, but that would have felt like cheating, so I made the short hop to the summit, which is topped by a large communications mast. I followed the road down from this for a bit, before the route enters the forest once again. I soon lost the trail and followed another to a gite, which eventually rejoined the correct route, but this added about four kilometers to the descent. I found going down more difficult, as the weight of the bag, and the angle of descent, made me press into the toe of my boots. Soon enough, my feet were getting a bit sore. The route drops right down to the Col du Perthus 271mtrs, which has a little village. Unfortunately, the whole place is dominated by the motorway that links Spain and France. The constant noise of traffic must be a nightmare for the locals to endure. Still, I was very glad to have reached there, and I treated myself to a couple of croissants and a coke, which went down very well.
Dawn above Las Illas

From here, you climb again, past a huge old army fort, and then drop down into a wide open valley. Up again, on gentle forest tracks, to about 700mtrs before eventually dropping again to a little village called Las Illas, where there was a busy gite. The day was once again getting late, and I was now quite tired. I reckoned that I had travelled at least thirty kilometres by now. As I had approached the village, the only possible campsite I could see in the heavily wooded area, was on a treeless col above the village. This I headed for, but it meant another couple of hundred meters of climbing to end the day. Sure enough, there was a fine grassy patch at the col, and I wasted no time in the gathering gloom, in getting camp established. I had to walk down through the woods for a few hundred meters to get to a water supply, but that was OK. I wasn't too off put by the few cowpats dotted around the area, as these were easily avoided. My feet were really glad to get out of the boots, but unfortunately some blistering and blood was in evidence, and the first aid kit was required. I really enjoyed dinner, and watched the sunset in the fine evening. All in all it had been another great day, but it was now clear that I had really underestimated the distance involved, and that there was now no chance of reaching Andorra in the time I had, so a new plan would have to be thought of. I settled down to bed once again, with only the occasional hooting of owls for company, bliss. At about 9pm, I heard the ta-ting ta-ting ta-ting ta-ting of the bells that hang from the necks of cattle in the mountains. This is a sound I usually like, but now I realized why there were cowpats round and about my tent, and sure enough soon the air was full of campanology, as the herd made for, what was obviously one of their favourite spots. What can I say, but that at three in the morning, the musicality of the noise had long since gone, and I was having fantasies of juicy steaks etc. Ah well a lesson learned I think.

Monday Dec 5th,


Further than it looks
Where I'm going
Once again the day dawned mild and dry. The cattle had long since retreated, and despite the noisy night, I felt surprisingly well rested. Thankfully my feet seemed to have recovered, and once I was booted and suited, I felt good as I started the climb towards Roc De Frausa 1450mtrs, which would be the highest point so far. After about an hour, I arrived at the Refuge Salinas, near which there is a superb place for camping. It would have been a real struggle to reach there the previous evening, but one for the future I think. There was a little cloud about, and some unfortunately was covering Roc Du Frausa when I arrived, so there was no need to delay, and I set off on what promised to be another long descent. I soon reached Col Cerda. This was a grand spot, where an elegant rock spur rose up the far side. I was really tempted to climb it, until I looked at the map, and realized that it was over a kilometer to the summit, and nearly 700 ft higher. I reckoned it would take too much time, so I left it be. The plan now was to head for the town of Arles sur Tech. I followed a good track, through fine wild scenery, until I reached a tarred road. Try as I might I could not find the trail to Arles, and after going up and down the road for a couple of kilometers I conceded defeat, and went instead to Amelie Les Bains. This is a good size town at 250meters above sea level, so once again, the descent had been long, and my feet were again feeling sore. I checked with the tourist office, and found to my delight that there was a frequent bus service between there and Perpignon, so I would be easily able to reach Barcelona from there. I camped in the local campsite, and enjoyed a lovely shower and a few beers, and had a bell free night.
Amelie les Bains

Tuesday Dec 6th,

Once again, the day dawned clear and windless. An early start soon had me following the trail up to
The old barracks??
Montbolo, a charming little village some 250mtrs above. It felt great to be leaving behind the trappings and noise of the town, and to be once again entering the wilds. I was feeling quite strong, perhaps it was a combination of an ever lightening bag, or the fact that I was getting a bit stronger thanks to the previous few days. Anyway, I made good progress, and was soon at Col de la Redoute at over 800mtrs. I was quite excited, because today, finally, I was heading for the high mountains. Perhaps, at last, I would justify bringing the axe and crampons, across many kilometers of forest. A couple of hundred meters further up, I came across the ruins of an old barracks, which afforded wonderful views.
Unfortunately, there was no water to be found there, so if I was going to use it as a campsite on my return, I would need to bring an ample supply with me.

A des res with a view.
I had finalized my plan for my final few days the previous evening. It was clear that I would not be able to reach Andorra, or even Puigcerda, so my best option for being able to get back to Barcelona on Thursday evening, was to return to Amelie, and catch a bus from there to Perpignan, and then a train from there to Barcelona. So today, I was heading for Batere, where I would stay.Tomorrow I planned to climb the Serra del roc Negra. This is a spine of tops, between the major peaks of Pic Du Canigou and Puig dels tres vents. I continued up, and reached the ruin of the Tour de Batere at 1439 mtrs. There was now a threat of a change in the weather, and some cloud was rolling over the slopes of the hills ahead. I still had about four or five kilometers to go, so I pushed on. I passed the refuge and Gite, and choose to camp a little higher up in the old mining area. This was a delightful spot, with a flat grassy area, and a handy water supply. I was at just over 1600mtrs, and it was only just 2.30pm, so I had gained about 1400mtrs, and I had plenty of time to relax. Thankfully, the threat of rain seemed to have receded, and I enjoyed a lovely relaxed few hours, in really pleasant temperatures. After dinner I retreated to my tent, and once again, the weather turned. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a strong wind came, and the rain arrived. Once again, I thanked my good fortune, that I was warm and dry. I just hoped that it would have cleared up by the following morning.

Wednesday Dec 7th,

Beautiful dawn.

Serra del Roc Negre

Feeling like -20 at 9000ft.
Looking south to the mountains of Catalonia
Highest point 2714mtrs.
I awoke to what can only be described as the perfect morning. No wind, clear skies, and the start of the most spectacular dawn in the east, greeted me when I emerged from the tent. There was a good coating of frost on the tent, which was a reminder that I was at over 5000ft. Today I was leaving the tent here, as I was returning this way again, so I would have a lovely light bag. I breakfasted and got packed, and was leaving at 07.45am. The route went up to Col de la Cirere 1731mtrs, before turning west southwest to Puig de pel de Ce at 2105mtrs. Here, at last, I had my first steps in snow, and I was delighted to discover that it was rock hard neve. At 2266mtrs, I donned crampons, and for the rest of the climb I was in a snowy wonderland. As I gained height the wind strengthened. By the time I crested Pic Gallinasse 2461mtrs, it was very strong indeed, and at times walking was difficult. The views were wonderful however, and more than made up for any discomfort caused by the wind. I was glad that I brought my cycling goggles, as these kept the biting cold wind from my eyes.

Happy chappie


Vultures glide away
It felt wonderful to have, what was now, an almost empty bag on my back. I won't say that I flew along, but I was able to travel at a more normal pace. I was glad that the terrain was easy, as the wind would have made traversing narrow ground dangerous to say the least. Indeed, when I arrived at point 2698 metres, I  could see that the last couple of hundred meters before Puig del roc Negre (2714 metres) was quite narrow, so I turned around for this very reason. I didn't mind, as this was all about having fun, so I returned the way I had come,  and just enjoyed the day. Before too long I was back below the snowline, and I repacked the spiky stuff, and had a bite to eat. As I descended, I looked to my right, and to my delight, saw nine vultures glide from just a hundred meters away, towards a ridge. This, just about capped a wonderful outing, and I was thrilled as I returned to the tent. I returned to the campsite, and here, out of any wind, it felt positively balmy, and as it was only just gone 2pm, I chilled out and relaxed for an hour. I packed up again and headed down. I had intended to camp at the ruins I had passed the previous day, but I failed to fill up the water bottles in time, and had to continue on down to Col de la Redoute. All through my trip I was delighted to hear the gentle toohooting of owls, as they called and claimed their territory. The sound is surprisingly loud, when one calls from a small tree, that is literally above the tent. I found myself awake and listening to the calls at 2.30am. Still I wouldn't swap the experience for anything.

Thursday Dec 8th,

A lovely leisurely start, to yet another lovely day, saw me finish the last of the food and gas. I packed up and made my leisurely way, back to the valley floor. A nice lunch and a bus ride, saw me arrived in Perpignan. I passed the afternoon by walking miles and miles around this charming town, that bustled with Christmas markets, and quaint narrow shopping streets. I had decided to take an evening train to Barcelona, and so, I found myself in the impressive TGV for a short hop to Figueres.Another comfortable Spanish train took me to Barcelona. I chose to stay in the airport, as I wasn't there until gone 11.30pm, and trying to find somewhere to stay at that time, would have been more hassle than it was worth. By the evening my left heel was quite sore, and when I was finally settled in the terminal, I took off my boots and socks, and was greeted by the biggest blister I had ever seen, on my left foot. It stretched from right under the heel, up around the back, and when I pierced it with a toothpick, it sprayed water over the black tiled floor. Thankfully there was no one else near, and I was able to tidy up the floor, and myself, without undue disgust to others. So, I settled down for my morning flight, well happy with my little adventure, and feeling reinvigourated after a week of exercise and great weather. I will be back.