Rothar Routes

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Archive for ‘June, 2026’

Slieve Foye (589m) – County Louth High Point

County High Point No. 29 of 32!

Another last-minute decision. Met Éireann was forecasting blue skies, warm sunshine and barely a breath of wind. Conditions like that are too good to waste; I had to be in Dublin for 10am on Saturday and to be back there before 5pm, so I pointed the car north towards Carlingford and County Louth’s highest point, Slieve Foye to get the best use of the day.

Saturday morning in Carlingford was like Grafton Street at Christmas! The narrow streets were packed with weekend visitors, stag and hen parties, families on summer holidays and day-trippers enjoying the sunshine. It was hard to imagine that within an hour I would be high above the crowds with nothing around me but mountain, sea and sky.

This was one of the county high points I had approached with a degree of caution. Slieve Foye rises directly from sea level above the village, and from below it appears an intimidating wall of mountain. The route, however, turned out to be full of pleasant surprises.

The first came only minutes after leaving the village. A red squirrel scampered towards me along the roadside before suddenly changing direction as a cat fixed it with an interested stare and gave chase. The squirrel won comfortably!

The route to the summit should not be confused with the signage for the Slieve Foye Loop. For the county top, the markers for the Commons Loop are better ones to follow. The early section climbs steadily on a stony track enclosed by thick ferns, brambles and summer growth. The green tunnel created by the vegetation gives the climb a mysterious secluded feel.

Care is needed at one point where the path appears to continue straight ahead towards a steep gully. The best route veers left and emerges onto open commonage. Here the character of the walk changes completely. The enclosed lane gives way to broad open mountain and a gentle climb towards Barnavave.

Barnavave itself carries one of the area’s oldest legends. Its Irish name, Bearna Mhéabha, means “Maeve’s Gap”. According to tradition, this pass was cut through the mountain by the army of Queen Medb during her invasion of Ulster in the epic Táin Bó Cúailnge. Standing there, with the mountains stretching away on either side, it is easy to understand why generations imagined armies moving through this landscape.

The route then switches back along the ridge towards Slieve Foye. The trail becomes less distinct, although marker poles are visible every few hundred metres and make navigation straightforward in good weather. Ahead, the rocky summit area looked far more difficult than it actually proved to be. The dry conditions underfoot were a huge advantage.

The views throughout the climb are exceptional. Looking back, Carlingford Harbour lay sparkling below, with the medieval castle and town nestled between the Cooley Mountains and sea. As height was gained, the panorama expanded across Carlingford Lough to the Mourne Mountains, with Slieve Donard standing proudly on the horizon.

Today visibility was extraordinary. The Isle of Man appeared clearly out in the Irish Sea. To the south I could make out Lambay Island, the Great Sugar Loaf and even distant Lugnaquilla in Wicklow. Dundalk and Newry spread out below to the west and north, while the plains of Meath and the drumlin country of Monaghanstretched into the distance. Sliabh Gullion stood towering over South Armagh, the county High Point of the Orchard County.

The summit itself is tied to another local legend. Some stories claim that the mountain is the sleeping form of Fionn Mac Cumhaill. Looking across the lough towards the Mournes, Fionn is said to have battled a rival giant, hurling a huge boulder across the water. The stone supposedly landed near Rostrevor, where the famous Cloughmore Stone still sits today. Exhausted by the effort, Fionn lay down and fell asleep, becoming the mountain itself!

The entire Cooley Peninsula is steeped in mythology. This was the land of the Brown Bull of Cooley, whose theft triggered the events of the Táin. The mountains and valleys surrounding Slieve Foye are woven into Ireland’s greatest heroic saga.

There was enough shelter on the summit for a comfortable lunch stop and I sat with a sandwich, reluctant to leave a view that seemed to improve every time I looked around. Eventually it was time to descend.

The rocky summit section requires care on the way down. Although not technically difficult, a slip would have consequences. Earlier I had noticed three hikers leaving the marked route and descending a very steep heather-covered slope. It looked like an unnecessary risk. Ground hidden beneath heather can conceal holes, loose rocks and ankle-turning traps.

The mountain was exceptionally busy. Hiking clubs and walking groups seemed to be appearing from every direction, tiny colourful figures moving across the ridge like luminous ants. On the descent I encountered a small herd of horses standing directly on the path, adding another memorable scene to an already memorable day.

What struck me most was the variety of accents I heard throughout the walk. Years ago this region was often viewed through the lens of division and checkpoints. Today the mountains seem to unite rather than separate. Walkers from both sides of the border move freely between the Cooley Mountains and the Mournes, crossing back and forth without a second thought. The old political landscape has softened considerably and the mountains have become a shared playground for hikers, cyclists and outdoor enthusiasts from north and south alike.

In total the walk took me around four hours, though that included countless pauses to admire the scenery, catch my breath and simply enjoy being there. Slieve Foye had been one of the county high points I approached with some uncertainty. In the end it turned out to be one of the most enjoyable.

A mountain of legends, extraordinary views and surprising character, rising directly from the sea and watching over one of Ireland’s most beautiful border landscapes.

Two weeks ago I didn’t think I would be adding to my list High Points climbed in 2026, but I’m so glad I made the effort to drive to West Cork last week to complete Knockboy and now Slieve Foye in Louth. The distances involved makes it difficult to get round to completing the challenge but now the end in view with just three remaining!

Knockboy: Cork’s Roof on a Perfect Summers Day!

There are days when planning is overrated and spontaneity brings great joy!

With the weather forecast finally turning in our favour, I made a midday decision to point the car south and continue my 32 County High Point Challenge. 

The long drive south eventually brought me through the village of Kilgarvan, where I stopped to gather supplies before tackling Knockboy. Probably best known today as the home of the Healy Rea political dynasty, the village is located beside the River Roughty and surrounded by the mountains of south Kerry,

With a few supplies secured, I continued towards Priest’s Leap, the narrow mountain road climbing steadily into some of the most spectacular scenery in Ireland. Before long the summit of Knockboy was visible ahead, waiting in glorious sunshine.

After three hundred and thirty kilometres of cross-country driving, and at 4.30pm on Saturday evening, I found myself parked at the top of Priest’s Leap, staring up towards Knockboy, the highest point in County Cork at 706 metres.

It was one of those rare Irish mountain days that almost seem unreal.

The sun blazed from a cloudless sky, there wasn’t a breath of wind, and for once the mountain gear remained largely unnecessary. T-shirt weather on an Irish summit is a rarity worth savouring.

From the start, the views were magnificent. A slight haze softened the distant horizons but did nothing to diminish the panorama. Bantry Bay shimmered far below. The industrial outline of Whiddy Island sat quietly in the water, a reminder of the Betelgeuse Disaster of 1979 in which 50 people lost their lives. Closer by lay Glengarriff and the deeply indented coastline of West Cork. To the west, the rugged skyline of the MacGillycuddy’s Reeks dominated the horizon through a blue – grey haze, with Carrauntoohil standing proudly above its neighbours. Real peaks!

Knockboy itself is one of the easier county high points. The mountain is usually notorious for wet ground and boggy conditions, but after a period of dry weather the route was manageable. Following the fence line from Priest’s Leap, I climbed steadily between Lough Reagh and Lough Boy, the dark mountain lakes reflecting the afternoon sunshine.

The ascent wasn’t difficult, but I found myself wishing I was fitter. My breathing felt heavier than it should have, and I took more rest stops than I might once have needed. Still, on a day like this there was no hardship in stopping. Every pause offered another excuse to stand and absorb the scenery.

The summit views were simply stunning.

Knockboy sits directly on the Cork-Kerry border and offers an extraordinary vantage point across two of Ireland’s most beautiful counties. Looking south, Bantry Bay stretched towards the Atlantic. Westward rose the serrated ridges of the Reeks. To the northeast lay the rolling wilderness of the Shehy Mountains, leading the eye towards Gougane Barra, one of the most atmospheric and historically significant locations in Ireland.

Gougane Barra, hidden among mountains and forests, is revered as the place where St Finbarr founded a monastic settlement in the sixth century before establishing Cork City itself. Its tiny lakeside chapel and remote setting have made it a place of pilgrimage and reflection for centuries. A place I have fond memories of from my month in the Gaeltacht way back in sixth class in Carlow CBS.

The Leap of the Priest

The starting point for the walk is almost as interesting as the mountain itself.

Priest’s Leap, or Léim an tSagairt, is one of Ireland’s most dramatic mountain passes. According to local legend, a priest fleeing English soldiers during the Penal Laws spurred his horse towards the edge of a seemingly impassable cliff. Miraculously, horse and rider leapt across the chasm and escaped. The horse’s hoof prints are said to remain impressed in the rock.

Whether fact or folklore, the name has endured.

The pass links County Cork and County Kerry through a narrow twisting road that climbs high into the mountains. It is one of the most spectacular drives in Ireland and certainly one of the most intimidating. The road clings to steep slopes, twists around blind corners and offers breathtaking drops alongside breathtaking views.

As it was a late start, I didn’t linger long on the summit. Instead, I descended directly towards the car park at Priest’s Leap.

The mountain still had one final story to offer.

Partway down the pass I encountered an unexpected road block on this isolated road. A holiday rental car had slipped onto the soft verge, leaving its wheels spinning helplessly. The occupants, Dan and Pamela from Minnesota, looked increasingly worried as attempts to drive free only dug the car deeper into the ground.

Soon a small rescue operation developed. We gathered flat stones from the mountain side and carefully packed them beneath the wheels. After several attempts and plenty of encouragement, the tyres finally found traction and the car lurched back onto solid ground.

For a few minutes, an isolated mountain pass in West Cork became an international co-operative effort involving Irish hillwalkers and stranded Americans. Unlike the blockage in the Straits of Hormuz, traffic flowed freely again! It felt entirely fitting.

County High Point Number 28 completed and surprisingly one of my favourites.

Every county high point has its own personality.

Some demand long arduous approaches. Others involve steep scrambles and difficult navigation. Knockboy offers something different: accessibility combined with scenery of the very highest order, if the weather permits.

On a perfect summer day it delivered everything a mountain walk should. Sunshine, endless views, local folklore, unexpected encounters and the satisfaction of standing on the highest ground in Ireland’s largest county.

Not every summit day needs to be epic.

Sometimes the mountain simply provides exactly what you need.