Rothar Routes

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

Two Walks, One Great Day: Red Kites, Ancient Woods and the Avonmore.

First Blog in a long time!

There are days when a walk is simply a walk, and there are others when it becomes something more.

This was one of the latter.

I met my brother, sisters and a niece in Avoca for what was, on paper at least, a day of walking in County Wicklow. We started with the Red Kite Walk above Avoca and later moved on to Clara Vale, walking beside the Avonmore River and eventually into Rathdrum.

But after the last few months, this was never going to be just about kilometres covered or places visited. They’ve been a tremendous support to me, and there was something quietly therapeutic about being out walking with them — talking, laughing, taking an interest in the things around us and, for a few hours, simply enjoying being together.

And Wicklow provided a wonderful backdrop.

Looking for Red Kites above Avoca.

We began in Avoca with the Red Kite Walk through Kilmagig Woods, a short woodland loop climbing above the village. The walk exists in large part because of one of Ireland’s great wildlife success stories.

Red Kites disappeared from Ireland more than two centuries ago. They were reintroduced to County Wicklow in 2009, and the wooded hills around Avoca have proved particularly suitable for them. Kilmagig Woods is now a nesting area, and red kites are regularly seen soaring above the valley.

We certainly weren’t disappointed.

We saw lots of them, sometimes circling high above us, their unmistakable forked tails making identification easy. Photographing them was another matter entirely. Every time we thought we had one lined up, it seemed to know exactly what we were attempting and promptly changed direction.

So there are occasions when the memory has to be better than the photograph!

The walk itself is only about 2 kilometres, climbing through the woods above Avoca with lovely views back towards the village. And then there is the Giant’s Chair — which provided more craic than perhaps its creators ever intended. Sometimes the daft moments on a walk are the ones you remember longest!

Avoca – a village built on copper

When I arrived in Avoca before the rest of the gang, I had time to browse around the Church of Saints Mary and Patrick. I hadn’t expected this little diversion to lead me into one of the most interesting parts of the day’s local history.

On the church wall is a large representation of the Cronebane Halfpenny, a copper token issued by the Associated Irish Mine Company in 1789. Avoca’s landscape was shaped by mining, and the token is a reminder that this quiet Wicklow valley was once an important industrial The front of the Halfpenny features on a plaque commemorating deceased members of Avoca O.N.E and the reverse of the halfpenny is part of a plaque erected by the parishioners in 1995 in Memory of The Avoca Miners who helped build this church and continued to support it throughout the years.

Mining was a massive industry here. At one stage in the 1700s there were 2,000 people employed in the copper mines leading to the establishment of Avoca – then known as Newbridge!

From Clara Bridge into the woods

Our second walk began at Clara Bridge, and it would be difficult to devise a prettier starting point.

There is the Avonmore flowing beneath you, the tiny old stone bridge squeezed across it – tricky to drive across, the church nearby and wooded slopes rising around the little settlement.

From there we joined a section of the Avonmore Way, following the river downstream towards Rathdrum.

The complete Avonmore Way links the Laragh/Trooperstown area with Rathdrum and runs for roughly 12–13.5 kilometres, depending on the precise endpoints used. Our section took us through what is undoubtedly one of its highlights — Clara Vale Nature Reserve, a flat 6.5kms walk, until the steep hill up in to Rathdrum!

The beauty of this forest walk is that it isn’t the usual commercial forest walk. The nature reserve covers about 220 hectares and contains the largest area of semi-natural woodland in County Wicklow. Parts of the area are believed to have remained wooded since the end of the Ice Age.

That gives the woods such a different atmosphere, one we can rarely experience in this country.

The great oaks are the stars, but beneath them is another world — mosses, lichens and ferns coating trunks and rocks, and I am sure early in the year lots of primroses and carpets of bluebells on the woodland floor. Like the great documentary recently on the Irish Atlantic Rain Forest on the Beara Peninsula, this is an extraordinary ecosystem: a mature tree can support a huge range of other life, while its acorns provide food for birds and mammals. Hard to spot anything with the chatter we were making.

Following the Avonmore

For much of the walk the constant companion is the Avonmore River.

The Avonmore begins its life up near Lough Dan before travelling south through this deeply wooded valley. Below Rathdrum and Avondale it eventually joins the Avonbeg at the famous Meeting of the Waters. From that meeting of the two rivers comes the Avoca, which continues eastwards to Arklow and the Irish Sea.

So there is a lovely continuity to the day’s walking. We began at Avoca and later found ourselves upstream beside one of the rivers that eventually creates the Avoca.

Walking beside a river is magical and soothing. Sometimes the Avonmore was almost beside our feet; at other times we were above it, hearing it through the trees. Water, woodland and autumn light made this section particularly beautiful.

Crossing the Samuel Hayes Bridge

Eventually we reached one of the newer landmarks on the route — the Samuel Hayes suspension bridge.

The bridge was opened in June 2021 to connect the Avonmore Way with the Jubilee Walk and Ballygannon Woods, making it possible to continue much more naturally towards Rathdrum.

The bridge is named in honour of Samuel Hayes, who built Avondale House in the 1700s and planted extensively on the estate.

Hayes himself once designed a wooden bridge across the Avonmore at Avondale. More than 200 years later, another bridge across the same river carries his name.

It is temporarily closed but we managed to sneak across!

An old Mass Path into Rathdrum

Across the bridge we gradually left the river and picked up part of Rathdrum’s Jubilee Walk, climbing towards the town along the old Mass Path.

Paths like this are easily passed without a second thought, but they are part of the hidden history of the Irish countryside. They preserve the routes generations of local people took on foot to attend Mass. Local folklore collected around Rathdrum in the 1930s actually records the name “Mass Path Brow”, explaining that it was so called because people passed that way going to Mass.

Near the end we passed St Michael’s Well, an old spring well. It appears on the 1839 Ordnance Survey map, and local tradition records people visiting it and using its water particularly in connection with skin complaints.

And then, after river, bridge, woods, Mass Path and holy well, we emerged into Rathdrum.

A therapy walk

Looking back, I think that is what I will remember most about the day.

Not how far we walked. Not whether we managed to get the perfect photograph of a red kite — we didn’t. Not even the history, interesting though it was.

I’ll remember being out with my brother and sisters.

The last few months have given me plenty of time to appreciate what family means. They have supported me enormously, and perhaps that is why this particular day felt so good. We walked. We talked. We laughed at the Giant’s Chair. We craned our necks looking for red kites. We stopped at old plaques and wondered about the people whose lives they commemorated. Then we followed a bubbling river through an ancient wood.

There is a lot written nowadays about the therapeutic benefits of walking and spending time in nature. I’m sure much of it is true.

A river beside you, a path ahead of you, and the people who have walked beside you when you needed them most.

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.

Family, Forests, Freiburg…

Sometimes journeys are less about ticking places off a list and more about people and reconnections. A recent trip to southern Germany with my brother Dermot was one of those. It was my first time visiting my uncle and cousins there – a long overdue trip prompted by the wish to see our uncle John, my father’s youngest sibling, and also to visit our two cousins, Sineád, Fiona and Ingrid, their Mam.

It’s a visit Dermot has completed on a good number of occasions and he has kept alive the links between our German-Irish relatives and home. A journey that I am so glad to have made and to see John burst into heart warming laughs and smiles reaffirmed the importance of family and keeping in touch.

From the moment we landed in Zurich, the efficiency of Central Europe became immediately apparent, The rail connection from the airport is seamless. Within minutes of leaving arrivals we were on a train gliding north through immaculate countryside towards Germany. My experience of airport transfers has always been hassle, involving buses, queues and confusion; the integration in Zurich Airport with the rail network felt almost futuristic.

Our destination for the first 4 days was Freiburg im Breisgau, nestled on the edge of the Black Forest region – so vivid in my memory of school geography classes. Luckily we made an enquiry in the train station about our connection – Dermot had mistakenly booked us on the train to Freiburg in Switzerland! Thankfully we arrived in the right Freiburg. Few towns manage to combine beauty, history, environmental awareness and liveability so naturally. Freiburg does it effortlessly.

The city escaped the worst destruction of the Second World War compared to many other German cities and the old city retains a timeless character. Pedestrianised, wandering through the streets feels like walking in layers of history. Medieval buildings, many bearing date stamps from the 1400s sit comfortably beside a multitude of cafés, market places, bike and tram lanes. There are reminders of the past everywhere; embedded in the pavements are small brass plaques – Stolpersteine – quietly commemorating Jewish citizens who were deported and murdered in concentration camps. You encounter them unexpectedly outside ordinary homes and shops, and they stop you in your tracks. They record the victims name at a place they were last known to be associated with; their fate and the extermination camps they were transported to. Chilling. Tiny memorials carrying enormous weight.

Above the city rises the Scholssberg hill, with what I can only describe as ‘Hansel and Gretel’ forest paths in the surrounding woods of mighty oaks, beech, Douglas fir, yew trees, sycamore and many more. Fairytale forests. The trails radiate in every direction into the Black Forest though dense woodland and along ridges with spectacular views of the city and onwards towards the Vosges in France and into Switzerland. Hiking is extremely popular – it was noticeable the amount of elderly hikers who all have their walking poles in their back packs as the enter and leave the old city. As much as it is a hikers paradise, Freiburg is unquestionably a cycling city. Bikes are everywhere – commuters, students, parents carrying children on school runs, older people shopping, all moving with an ease that makes the car seem unnecessary. Even on cobbled streets!

The environmental focus of they city is impossible to miss – grass verges remain uncut and wild, gardens are deliberately overgrown, solar panels, green spaces, biodiversity projects and sustainable transport are woven into everyday life here rather than presented as slogans. Reflecting on home and the moaning about bike lanes; the disregard for biodiversity in the interest of making a quick buck at the expense of nature, enough to make you weep.

The centre piece of Freiburg is the magnificent Freiburg Minster, its soaring gothic spire dominating the skyline. The old square below it hums with a vibrant farmers market of the highest quality. We climbed the 365 winding steps to the viewing platform; worth every ounce of effort it entailed with magnificent panoramic views of the city but not a place for anyone scared of heights or enclosed spaces!

The surviving medieval town gates of Martinstor and Schwabentor are great reminders that this was once a fortified medieval city. The only fault I found in Freiburg was the location of a MacDonalds alongside the Martinstor town gate; it just does not belong there!

We walked almost everywhere and walking in the ‘Altstrad’ (old city) is one of the great pleasures of a visit to this compact and beautiful city. You could sit and people watch all day. Around the Cathedral square the farmers market was superb – overflowing with flowers, cheeses, breads, fruits and meats. It is obvious that there is great pride in local handcrafts with so many small independent shops doing a roaring trade. It’ s a real living vibrant city.

We stumbled upon another fascinating tradition in the old city where we encountered quite a few travelling craftsmen – young apprentices dressed in striking traditional clothing, some in black and white, others in brown and white with broad hats and distinctive jackets that seemed to signify different trades. Many of them carried walking staffs and small bundles – it was like a journey back in time. Something very admirable about the tradition of young people travelling, learning skills, seeking work experience for low pay, accommodation do food as they travel around the countryside!

One of our most memorable moments came on the Holy feast day of Ascension Day when we visited the Cathedral and stayed for mass. This was so deeply moving. The massive organ thundered through the Cathedral while powerful choral music (Mary would have loved it!), filled the vast gothic interior. Even without understanding a word, the music carried enormous emotional force. It was timeless and deeply spiritual.

Our time was limited and after four days visiting with John we headed north by train to Karlsruhe, where Ingrid picked us up at the train station and brought us to ‘Mogogo’ where we met Sinéad and her husband Gaym. One of the highlights of our trip was a wonderful meal in his family’s Eritrean restaurant, ‘Mogogo’. The warmth and friendliness we received was unforgettable. The food was traditional Eritrean, shared communally in the traditional way. It was a fabulous occasion. From there Ingrid drove us on to Heidelberg where we would stay with Fiona.

Heidelberg is a gem; a historic and well preserved city on the river Neckar, surrounded by forested hills on both sides of the river and looked over by its massive sandstone castle ruins. Absolutely stunning. We completed a great walk out of the city through the forest looking across the river towards the castle and then down the steep hillside before emerging onto an ancient bridge and then climbed to the Castle. Again the culture of cycling and walking stood out. Forest trails that are on the doorstep of the old city meant that you simply move between urban and forest trails in an instant. The Castle is extraordinary, part ruins and part palace and used a as a concert venue. The old city is so well preserved, filled with buildings that have stood for hundreds of years. Walking through the narrow streets, you are constantly aware of the age of this city that has survived wars, plagues and religious upheaval.

It gave us another memorable culinary experience in a Persian restaurant in the old town. Just like our Eritrean meal back in Karlshrue, it reminded us how travel is enriched by cultural diversity and hospitality.

Sadly all good things come to an end. Our return journey to Zurich saw us take local trains that curved through forests and hill tops before passing the spectacular Rhine Falls. Even glimpsed from a moving train, the sight of Europe’s largest waterfall crashing through he rocks was unforgettable- a final fitting image for a trip filled with lots of walking (100kms), beauty, and family connections.

Travel often becomes a blur of destinations and photos. This journey was different. It was great to reconnect with John, Sinéad and Gaym, Fiona and Ingrid. We saw many wonderful sights but perhaps most pleasing of all was the broad smile on John’s face as we recalled old friends and places from his childhood.

Around the Nurney Plateau: Quiet Roads, Hidden Relics, and Big Skies

The first time I heard the name ‘The Nurney Plateau’ was on a CBS Primary School outing with the great Brother Healy. It wouldn’t happen in today’s world to allow your primary students cycle out the Wexford Road, but the entire class cycled out from the CBS to Castletown Castle, a mock Tudor/Gothic 19th century incorporating a truncated tower-house! It is situated on the Wexford road less than 1km past Tinryland GAA Club. I think it was owned by the Monahan family – previously owned by the Kavanaghs and at one stage by the infamous Buck Whaley. My memories of it were that there was a display of swords from all over the world decorating the entrance hall. During the talk Mr. Monahan took us outside and explained about the lands extending up onto the Nurney plateau.

There are spins on the bike that feel like mere training sessions and then there are mornings like today where the road keeps offering up small wonders, one after another, across a landscape that is familiar to me but always surprising. Today’s loop was more or less over and around the Nurney Plateau: 55kms of rolling Carlow countryside with 541 metres of climbing, stitched together by quiet lanes, old stone walls and buildings, and the occasional moment of quiet magic.

And yeah yeah I know, before anyone says it, this was done on my e-bike! Not quite ‘cheating’ as some might imagine. The climbs still have to be ridden, the miles still tick by, and the legs tell me afterwards that there was real effort involved. The beauty is it gives me more freedom – the chance to enjoy the scenery, to take a longer route and to finish feeling happy to plan my next long outing.

It also helped that, finally, a spell of good weather has arrived. Temperatures finally nudging upwards, barely a breath of wind, and more hours of day light if needed and that removes any sense of hurry. No chasing the clock, no cutting corners – just time to ride. And because I travel the local roads, hardly a car along this route after I turned left up Staplestown Hill.

I headed out over Kellistown, heading in the general direction of Rathoe before slipping away onto the even quieter roads around Ballynunnery. Narrow roads, high full green hedgerows and that sense you’ve stepped off the map! Not long after, I passed a vast solar farm located on fine arable land. It’s hard not to feel conflicted – progress, of course, but at a cost that feels particularly visible in a landscape like this.

Crossing the Wexford Road at Ballintrane, I turned left and continued south crossing the River Burren for the third time today as I made my way toward Taylors Cross on the Fenagh – Myshall Road. From there I picked up a stretch of the Turas Columbanus, a route being developed to create a pilgrimage route Myshall, the birthplace of Saint Columbanus across France, Switzerland and Italy to his resting place in Bobbio, Italy. The tiny roads and tight bends tend to slow you down, as if encouraging you to notice more.

And notice more I did.

Soon came Toberbride; according to the Ordnance Survey Map there is a Holy Well located in the field off the road and soon came the wonderfully evocative townland name of Coolnacuppogue ,roughly translating as the Back of the hill of the Dock Leaves! It’s the kind of name that anchors you to a place and I spotted a nice stretch of traditional Carlow fencing here, the craftsmanship still holding strong against time and weather.

A few hundred metres on, two hens scratched industriously along the roadside verge, their small flock of chicks darting in and out under their legs – a simple, perfect rural scene.

Turning right, the road rose gradually before falling towards one of the highlights of the day: Ballyloughan Castle. This place never fails to impress. A seldom visited gem, it boasts the striking remains of a 13th century settlement, its double-towered gatehouse still standing with quiet authority. There’s something very atmospheric about it, I climbed over the gate and strolled inside. No crowds, no fuss, just a piece of Carlow history sitting patiently in a Carlow field posing questions I cannot answer about our past! Not far away lies Ballaghmoon Castle, another reminder of how dense the countryside is with heritage, even if many of these sites are poorly signposted and go unnoticed.

Conscious of the 2pm throw in for the eagerly awaited Cork v Limerick in the Munster SHC, I got back on the bike and pushed on through Swinn Cross Roads from where the road kicked up sharply towards Kildreenagh. This climb has a bit of bite but its reward is access to one of the more hidden treasures of this route.

Down a quiet lane, half hidden in a hedgerow lies a cross head and a bullaun stone, an understated but deeply evocative site. Kildreenagh – The Church of the Blackthorns, feels special. Few know of its existence. The bullaun stone was full of water from recent rains. It’s just one of those spots that rewards curiosity and for which we should be thankful that the local farmer, makes sure that it is not damaged when hedges are being trimmed back. It’s almost impossible to find without local knowledge or an Ordnance survey map in your hand.

From there it was a steady spin home via Newtown, though not without one final test – the climb to the top of Nurney Hill. It’s a proper pull, especially with a good few kilometres in the legs but the top delivers what all good climbs should. County Carlow opens in all four directions, a canopy of green fields, ridgelines along the Blackstairs to the south and Killeshin to the west with the Wicklow mountains in the distant east. Carlow Cathedral spire straight ahead as my North Star.

It’s a quick descent into Nurney village and home via Ballyloo Cross and Tinryland.

This is a loop that doesn’t draw any attention. It doesn’t have any headline climbs or famous passes, but it has other attractions – quiet roads, rich history and the kind of small details that stay with you long after the cycle is done. It’s hard to imagine a better way to spend a morning in the heart of Carlow.