Rothar Routes

Cycle routes & pilgrim journeys in Ireland and Europe …..

Archive for ‘May, 2025’

Above the Valleys: From Derrybawn to Drumgoff on a Trail of Views, Rebels & Red Kites

There are some routes in Wicklow that feel like you’ve pedalled your way into Ireland’s ancient past from monastic masterpieces to our centuries of rebellion against English invaders and planters. My latest two wheeled adventure started in Laragh, always a busy village nestled in the centre of Wicklow, and it took me high above the world-famous Glendalough, across open mountain, down into the historic depths of Glenmalure, and up again to one of Ireland’s most iconic cycling landmarks. This one had everything: forest climbs, ridge views, a sighting of a red kite, and more than a little sweating!

Route Summary:

  • Distance: 23 km
  • Elevation Gain: 710 m
  • Highest Point: 568 m above sea level
  • Start/Finish: Laragh
  • Terrain: Mixed surface – forest trails, mountain boardwalk, paved climbs, fast descent

The Derrybawn Loop – A Trail Above Time

I set off on the Derrybawn Loop, a well-marked hiking and biking trail that leaves from Laragh and climbs steeply through thick woodland above Glendalough’s monastic village. The climb wastes no time—it’s tough going, but the views are worth every crank of the pedals. I may be on an electric assisted bike but I still get the physical benefit of my efforts, with a little assistance when the going gets tough!

Soon breaks in the tree line appear, and you’re treated to breathtaking vistas of the Upper Lake, shimmering below like something out of a dream. The route sweeps around Derrybawn Mountain, with the Spink Ridge rising to the west—a dramatic walk in its own right and well worth the effort if you do visit Glenadalough on foot.

Eventually, the forest road gives way to a wooden boardwalk—floating above the heather and bog on the open mountain. At this point, I left the Derrybawn Loop behind and struck out toward the Miners Trail, which links Glendalough to Glenmalure. This is where the spin turns into something else entirely. First I had to lift the bike over a stile and then carefully walk the bike along the board walk – I’m not brave enough or foolish enough to try cycle on top of it! It’s a really steep descent after the boardwalk on a slippy gravelly mountain path.

Crossing to Glenmalure – Wicklow’s Rebel Heartland

The Miners Trail winds across open mountain and descends into the glacial expanse of Glenmalure, the longest glacial valley in Ireland. At 20km long, it’s a place that breathes history. Once the stronghold of the O’Byrne clan, Glenmalure was the site of fierce resistance to English rule, most famously the 1580 Battle of Glenmalure, where Fiach MacHugh O’Byrne and his followers delivered one of the heaviest defeats suffered by an English army in Ireland. He is immortalised in the ballad ‘Follow me up to Carlow’ The air to the song is reputed to have been played as a marching tune by the pipers of Fiach MacHugh O’Byrne:

Lift MacCahir Óg your face
Brooding over the old disgrace
That black Fitzwilliam stormed your place,
Drove you to the Fern
Grey said victory was sure
Soon the firebrand he'd secure;
Until he met at Glenmalure
With Fiach MacHugh O'Byrne.

Curse and swear Lord Kildare
Fiach will do what Fiach will dare
Now FitzWilliam, have a care
Fallen is your star, low
Up with halbert out with sword
On we'll go for by the Lord
Fiach MacHugh has given the word,
Follow me up to Carlow.

See the swords of Glen Imaal,
They're flashing over the English Pale
See all the children of the Gael,
Beneath O'Byrne's banners
Rooster of a fighting stock,
Would you let a Saxon cock
Crow out upon an Irish rock?
Fly up and teach him manners!

Curse and swear Lord Kildare
Fiach will do what Fiach will dare
Now FitzWilliam, have a care
Fallen is your star, low
Up with halbert out with sword
On we'll go for by the Lord
Fiach MacHugh has given the word,
Follow me up to Carlow.

From Tassagart to Clonmore,
There flows a stream of Saxon gore
O, great is Rory Óg O'More,
At sending the loons to Hades.
White is sick, Grey is fled,
Now for black FitzWilliam's head
We'll send it over dripping red,
To Queen Liza and her ladies.

As I descended toward Drumgoff Bridge, the landscape widened into that familiar U-shaped valley—a place both remote and full of presence. And as if scripted by nature itself, a red kite soared overhead, circling effortlessly on the thermals. These majestic birds of prey were reintroduced to Wicklow in recent years, and seeing one in flight is always a thrill—its forked tail and russet colouring unmistakable.

Crossing to Glenmalure – Wicklow’s Rebel Heartland

The Shay Elliott Climb – A Hill for the Heroes

From Drumgoff, the road pointed steeply upwards to the Shay Elliott Monument. This is one of Wicklow’s great cycling climbs—never too steep to break you, but long enough to test your grit. I never felt more like a cheat than I did at this point using an emtb! The monument honours Shay Elliott, the first Irish cyclist to wear the yellow jersey in the Tour de France, and the first to win a stage in all three Grand Tours.

The summit offers more than just lactic acid—it offers panoramic views back across Glenmalure, the mountains, and the winding ribbon of road you’ve just conquered.

Descent to Laragh – Back to Where It Began

From the monument, it’s all downhill—literally and joyfully. A winding, fast descent delivered me back toward Laragh after a really incredible route.

Laragh is a perfect base for outdoor adventures. With Glendalough just up the road—a place of saints, scholars, and silent lakes—it’s a hive of activity every weekend, especially when the sun shines!

Shout out to David Flanagan, who included the Derrybawn Loop in his fantastic guide book ‘Cycling in Ireland’, which is where I picked up this route from.

Rebels, Ridges & Back Roads. Two glorious Evening Spins in the Garden of Ireland.

There’s something special about cycling in the evening light—especially in County Wicklow, where every bend in the road reveals a piece of history or a sweep of mountain beauty. Over two recent evenings, I explored two routes not far from each other—each steeped in legend, rebellion, and raw, rugged charm. If you ever doubted that the past is alive in Wicklow, these spins might just convince you otherwise.

Knockananna Credit Union. Prettiest in the country!

Evening 1: Knockananna, The Billies, and the Ghosts of 1798

My first loop began in Knockananna, a village on the border with Carlow —tucked into the hills and humming with local pride. The road led me high up into Askanagap, home of Ballymanus GAA club, also fondly known as The Billies, a tribute to local 1798 rebel Billy Byrne.

Byrne wasn’t just a namesake—he was a key figure in the rebellion, fighting at Arklow, Mount Pleasant, Kilcavan, and finally Vinegar Hill in Enniscorthy.

His tragic end is remembered in memorial plaque in front of the Club. Captured in 1799, he was tried in Wicklow town on the evidence of four paid informers—Dixon, Doyle, Davis, and Bid Doolin. As the story goes, he was playing handball in the prison yard when summoned to his execution on Gallows Hill. His brother had raced from Dublin with a reprieve, only to arrive 15 minutes too late.

As I rode back toward Knockananna, the road brought me to the hauntingly beautiful Rosahane Graveyard, tucked away on a quiet hillside. Two young deer darted across the road below me—one of those small, unforgettable moments that make evening cycling in Wicklow so special.

Evening 2: Aughavannagh, Glenmalure & the Shadow of Fiach MacHugh

The second evening took me deeper into the mountains, starting from Aughavannagh, a peaceful spot nestled in the heart of Wicklow. My route looped around Ballinacor Mountain, dropped down into Greenan, and then swung left into the wide, silent majesty of Glenmalure.

This is no ordinary valley—it’s a 20km-long glacial trench, once the stronghold of the O’Byrne Clan. In 1274, they ambushed a Crown force here. More famously, in 1580, Fiach MacHugh O’Byrne crushed an English army in the Battle of Glenmalure, inflicting between 500 and 1,000 casualties in what remains one of the most decisive rebel victories in Irish history. I can only imagine how remote this place was before out modern network of roads.

At the entrance to the valley stands a huge boulder: one face honours Fiach MacHugh; the other commemorates Michael Dwyer, another 1798 rebel of legend and a native of nearby Glen of Imaal. It’s a stark reminder that these quiet roads once echoed with battle cries and coercion of the native population.

From there, a tough climb over Drumgoff brought me to a stunning final descent—one of those long, freewheeling glides that make every climb worth it—back into Aughavannagh as the evening light melted into the hills.

Both routes were rich in scenery and history. From rebel battlegrounds to glacial valleys, ancient graveyards to whispering forests, these were two great evening rides that inspired the legs and the soul!

The weather was perfect. The roads were quiet. And the hills and the locals—well, they haven’t forgotten.

Scarplands Bike Trail, Co Fermanagh

Start Point: Belcoo, Co. Fermanagh
End Point: Lough Navar Forest
Distance: 30 km (one way, linear route), 65 kms including return by local roads
Elevation Gain: 1,087 meters
Terrain: Coarse gravel, forest roads
Highlights: Megalithic tombs, upland loughs, Magho Cliffs

A couple of days after revisiting Fore, I swapped lakes for limestone and set off on a linear cycle along the Scarplands Trail, starting in Belcoo, County Fermanagh. This route is part of the Cuilcagh Lakelands UNESCO Global Geopark, and it shows.

The trail weaves through forest breaks, skirting high inland cliffs and vast open uplands. The sense of space is incredible — you’re pedalling through an ancient landscape, shaped by ice, time, and human hands over millennia. There are megalithic tombs, upland lakes, and views that stretch across Sligo, Donegal and the Atlantic Ocean in the distance. It’s raw, elemental cycling — part forest, part mountain edge.

The trail itself — remote, gritty, and windswept — was only part of the story. The real magic lay in the soundtrack and the sightings!

Cuckoos called repeatedly from the trees, their voices bouncing across the valleys with such regularity they seemed to be mocking my slow progress uphill! More elusive were the jays — flashes of blue and rust disappearing into the trees before I could fully register them. I spotted a pair of red squirrels bounding across the path ahead of me in Lough Navar, their tails like pennants vanishing into the pines. And above it all, the unmistakable, joyful swoops of returning swallows, back from Africa and clearly delighted to find the place just as they left it.

Nature wasn’t just a backdrop here — it was part of the trail.


Two rides, one common thread: they both offered that magical mix of solitude, scenery, and a deep connection to place. If you’re drawn to routes that are under the radar, rich in heritage, and just a bit wild — both Lough Sheelin and the Scarplands Trail deliver in spades. If you’re craving a route that goes beyond the sanitised greenways and into the wild and wonderful remote corners of Ireland, my last two routes are calling!

Fore by Two!

Over the past few days, I’ve been lucky enough to explore two beautiful routes by bike — both rural, both rugged, and both deeply rewarding in their own ways. Mary joined me for the jaunt out of Fore and around Lough Sheelin.

This first cycle was a return for me to beautiful Fore, Co. Westmeath, home of the famous Seven Wonders of Fore. It’s a place where ancient stones seem to whisper stories — from the water that won’t boil to the tree that won’t burn! A fittingly mystical start to a route that would take us into truly off-the-beaten-track terrain.

From Fore, we headed north, tracing a rural loop around Lough Sheelin, dipping into the quiet borderlands of County Cavan – and even a piece of Meath that juts north into a gap between Westmeath and Cavan. This is classic drumlin country — a patchwork of rolling farmland, hidden lakes, and winding boreens where the hedgerows close in and time seems to slow.

We met more cattle and sheep than cars. The roads were rough in places, but the silence and solitude more than made up for it. The lake itself was shimmering whenever it came into view, fringed with rushes and angling boats. This is the kind of ride that reminds you just how much of Ireland remains untouched by tourism. No cafes, no signs, no distractions — just rural beauty and a rhythm dictated by the road and your legs.

Truth be told the northern side of the lake from Finea was on the fairly busy road to Ballyjamesduff and wasn’t the most pleasant but we were able to get off it just before Mount Nugent. As we paused in Mount Nugent for a quick ice cream break — a rare moment of bustle after miles of quiet roads — a concerned motorist approached. He asked if we’d seen a young boy, described as carrying a rucksack, who hadn’t been seen since morning.

We hadn’t encountered anyone matching that description, but we were able to confirm he hadn’t been on the route we’d cycled, helping to narrow down the area for those searching.

It was a sobering moment. The contrast between our carefree journey and the real concern playing out nearby was striking. It was also a reminder of how these quiet, rural places — so peaceful on the surface — can carry unexpected stories and tensions. We left Mount Nugent hoping the boy would be found safe and soon.

The back roads that returned us to Fore were just perfect for cyclists; one of them a disused road which we had to ourselves.