Rothar Routes

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

Posts from the ‘Walking’ category

Galtymore – Frozen Lessons Above the Glen of Aherlow

The 32 County High Point challenge resumed in earnest this week and it did so with a bang – or perhaps more accurately, with a shiver! Galtymore, that shared summit between Tipperary and Limerick, reminded me that mountains don’t care about forecasts or optimistic hikers. They simply stand there, in all their magnificence, waiting to teach you a lesson if you arrive slightly undercooked.

What made it stranger still was how familiar this mountain felt before I even put a boot on it. The last time my wife and I passed beneath the Galtees we were on two wheels rather than two feet, swooping gently along the floor of the Glen of Aherlow as part of our Malin to Mizen cycle in 2021. Then, the mountains were something to admire from a distance – the sheer green north face of the Galtee Range is a majestic sight on a summers day. Back then they were scenery. Now they were my problem.

Expectation vs Reality

I had done the sensible bits: checked forecasts, looked at maps, reassured myself that the day looked promising. Cold, yes. Wintry, yes. But manageable. Unfortunately, my sense of competence didn’t extend to the basics: I left home without gloves and without snacks. Thought I’d pick some up in a shop but I didn’t pass one all the way down from Carlow! Clownish behaviour in winter. On a mountain. It’s the sort of lapse I could excuse if I was a novice, not from someone nearing the end of a 32-county challenge. You live, you learn… preferably not the hard way.

At Clydagh Bridge car park, I made the decision which shaped the day. Instead of heading for the Lough Curra stile – the established, friendly, sensible way up – I followed the sign to Galtymore Stile, confident that a sign surely couldn’t lie. But it did that quietly Irish thing: it pointed you in roughly the right direction and then left you to figure out the rest!

The path wandered out of forest and onto open commonage and then disappeared… no markers. No poles. Just vast, cold mountain ahead and a stream tumbling off the northern slopes. I followed the water, then committed to a small gully. Luckily (and there’s nothing like meeting fellow strays on a mountainside!) I encountered a couple who’d made the same mistake. We formed a little alliance of misplaced optimism and agreed to stick together, promising to turn back if it became foolish rather than adventurous. There is no way I could have completed this climb without their help and support. Hopefully they felt likewise!

Onto the Rough Side of the Mountain

This is not the tourist side of Galtymore. No lovely trodden track easing you gently toward the skyline. Instead, you get steep, frozen ground that demands attention and respect. Lough Diheen lurked off to our left beneath cliffs that we wisely avoided. The terrain pitched up savagely as we climbed – from about 450m to the 918m summit in a brutally direct line, a gradient that feels closer to a wall than a hill, a ladder wouldn’t be out of place.

The surface was iron–hard with frost. Grip was sometimes good, sometimes treacherous, but always tiring. I was also using poles which I found really helpful, once adjusted for the terrain. The kind of climbing where your legs burn, your breathing goes ragged, and you realise just how far removed this is from admiring mountains from a bicycle saddle in the sunshine.

Near the top, winter arrived properly. Cloud swallowed the summit, visibility vanished, snow swept across us, and strong gusts battered the ridge. Around the Lough Curra cliffs on the descent the wind became something wild – the sort that makes you lean your whole body against it and still feel unsure.

My hands had, since the upper parts of the frozen slope, decided to make their presence very much felt. Without gloves, they reached that sharp, screaming pain stage where you’re not entirely convinced you’ll ever feel your fingers again. Salvation came thanks to a borrowed pair of work gloves near the summit – agricultural by design, miraculous by effect.

A Race Against Darkness

Reaching the summit wasn’t the triumph I usually feel; it was relief. We didn’t linger. We took the sensible route down – the one we should have gone up in the first place – but the mountain wasn’t done. The ground was frozen, snow covering underfoot, light began to fade, and my phone battery slid perilously toward empty. Every modern comfort we rely on – navigation, weather info, timekeeping – all were quietly evaporating. A trail runner passed and gave us some directional advice for the best way down.

When I eventually reached the trailhead, tired, cold, hungry, and very aware of my own stupidity, I found myself thinking of the Glen of Aherlow again. Of that peaceful cycle in 2021. Of pedalling past farmers tending their livestock, the slow rhythm of rural life, the mountains watching silently above. The Galtees are stitched into local identity – songs, stories and folklore, Sunday drives, family picnics, history layered onto landscape. Indeed my first memory of the Glen was cycling through here with Tom Cullen all of 45 plus years ago! And then there’s us modern wanderers, arriving with apps, gadgets, performance fabrics, and occasionally… no gloves.

From Ireland to the Desert

All of this felt particularly vivid because only a week earlier I’d been scrambling in Wadi Al Dhahir in the UAE. There the landscape is heat-sculpted, bone–dry, dramatic in an entirely different register. Sun on stone, sand underfoot, heat shimmering off rock faces. You carry water like treasure. The danger is dehydration rather than frostbite. Yet the lesson is surprisingly similar in both places: the landscape demands respect, and complacency is never rewarded.

Standing on the Galtymore ridge in driving snow, I couldn’t help smiling at the contrast. One week baking in desert canyons; the next being sandblasted by frozen Irish weather. Two very different worlds, one humbling truth: nature is always in charge.

Lessons (Firmly) Learned

This was one of the hardest climbs I’ve done, less because of difficulty and more because of my own mistakes.

  • Bring gloves. Always. No excuses. Irish mountains are treacherous and changeable in an instant.
  • Bring food. Hunger is no badge of honour.
  • Don’t blindly trust a sign – know your route. I left my guidebook in the car….
  • Batteries die faster in cold. Plan for it.
  • The hardest-looking way up is rarely the wisest.

But Galtymore also gave back: companionship, resilience, perspective, and renewed respect for Irish mountains. Five county high points remain. I’ll face them with humility, better preparation… and a firm promise to myself never again to stand on a winter summit wondering where I left my gloves.

And somewhere along the way, as I often do, I’ll think of that quiet day cycling through the Glen of Aherlow, knowing that sometimes it’s okay to admire mountains from below – because sooner or later they will insist you meet them properly, and they’ll make sure you respect them and remember the encounter.

From Trostan to the Glens: High Points and Hurling Heartlands

Last Saturday I conquered Trostan, the 551 m summit of County Antrim, and hauled myself back home over a 700 km relentless but rewarding round-trip in my 32-County High Point Challenge! From that windswept trig-point, views stretched beyond the haze north to Rathlin Island, west to the Inishowen Peninsula in far off Donegal, east to the Mull of Kintyre and Scotland then just south to Slemish, the first known home of Saint Patrick, where he was enslaved; I climbed it on his feast day two years ago. Beneath my feet lay a mountain carved by basalt lava, long watched over by clans and cairns— this land was fought over by many chieftains and clans, both native Irish and of Scottish descent. Not far from Trostan Sorley Boy MacDonnell had a great victory at the Battle of Aura, following which they withdrew to Trostan, marking the spot with a cairn. Looking out to Rathlin brought fond memories of a trip many years ago with Tommy Wogan with one particular image being of the pair of us sitting on the top of the huge cliff edge watching RAF fighter jets flying low above the North Atlantic Ocean on a training mission. Never saw anything like it before or since! I hope to ride the ferry to Rathlin again sometime soon! Today though was about notching up my 24th County High Point, Trostan’s summit, yearning for the remaining eight high points still calling me onward to complete a few more before the onset of winter.

Looking down from Trostan into the Glens of Antrim, I wasn’t just seeing valleys and sea-cliffs — I was gazing into the cradle of Ulster hurling, where villages like Cushendall keep alive the flame of Ireland’s oldest game. Names like Sambo McNaughton and Neil McManus ring out here as proudly as any chieftain of old. In a county where nationalists often carried the heavy burden of politics and prejudice, the hurley and sliotar became more than sport — they were symbols of resilience, pride, and culture woven deep into the very fabric of the Glens. In villages like Cushendall, Cushendun, Glenariff and Loughgiel, the game is woven into identity and daily life, with the Ruairí Óg club in Cushendall standing as a powerhouse of Ulster hurling.

Hurling here isn’t just sport — it’s a cultural anchor. In an area where Irish music, song, and storytelling have long flourished, the clash of ash sticks on the pitch echoes a community’s resilience, pride, and belonging. Local festivals and the use of the Irish language keep that cultural thread alive in a way that still feels raw and rooted.

For nationalists in Antrim, especially during the difficult years of the Troubles, hurling and the GAA provided more than sport. They were safe havens of identity, places where Irish culture — language, music, games — could flourish against a backdrop of political tension and discrimination. To take the field in the maroon of the Ruairí Óg Club, the green and gold of Dunloy Cúchullains, the red and white of Loughiel Shamrocks or the black and amber of McQuillans Ballycastle was to play for more than points on a scoreboard: it was to declare pride in community and continuity of tradition. Terence ‘Sambo’ McNaughton, Neil McManus, Ally Elliott, the Donnelly’s, Liam Watson and Cloot McFetridge were as good a hurlers as any across the hurling strongholds.

Mention of Loughiel Shamrocks and I have to mention my good friends Bernie and Dermot Connolly of Corkey Road, who I met many years ago and with whom we stayed for a weekend when the lads were very young. True Gaels.

I knew from reading Kieron Gibbons guide book to Ireland’s County High Points that the approach to Trostan tended to be very soft and wet as it crosses a stretch of open bogland. It was no accident I took it on last weekend. The dry spell had made it spongy and nice to walk across. The climb follows markers for the Moyle Way / Ulster Way and involves climbing over a couple of stiles. On a day like last Saturday it was one of the easy High Points so far. The starting point is easily missed as it is on a remote minor road between Newtown-Crommelin and Cushendall / Cushendun and there was no information panel present on the day identifying it as a trailhead; a brick pedestal probably held a sign at some stage. There is only parking for 1 or 2 cars. It can also be claimed from the Glenariff Forest car park on the eastern side.

After finishing the climb I detoured into Cushendall and paid a quick visit into Sambos pub, the walls adorned with photos of hurling legends and signed jerseys. A GAA watering hole off ever there was one. The homeward journey brought me through Glenravel Glen, made famous by Bobby Sands who wrote a ballad about the blind fiddle player and poitín maker, ‘McIllhatton’ and sung by Christy Moore.

Four Peaks, Four Provinces, Three Days and Absolutely No Sense!

4 Peaks – 3 Days!

Easter 1993/1994. A weekend I’ll never forget, not sure of the exact year — and a time when Éire Óg, was at the very peak of its powers. Thanks to Donal Nolan sending me on some photos he snapped of us, capturing the achievement for ever!

Donal Nolan and me taking a break on the scree slopes of Croagh Patrick.

Fresh off an incredible journey to the All-Ireland Club Final on St. Patrick’s Day 1993, three of panel decided to keep the momentum going and raise a few bob— in a slightly mad way. Donal Nolan, John Wynne and yours truly (can’t recall if there was a fourth at this remove) set ourselves a challenge: climb the highest mountain in each of Ireland’s four provinces over the Easter weekend.

L to R: Donal Nolan, Turlough O Brien, John Wynne in the Glen of Imaal, on the edge of the army firing range after we climbed the 4 Peaks in 3 Days!

  • Good Friday: Carrauntoohil, Kerry – the tallest in Ireland at 1,038m.
  • Easter Saturday: Croagh Patrick, Mayo – sacred ground in every sense.
  • Easter Sunday: Slieve Donard, Down – towering over the Irish Sea.
  • Easter Monday (or later the same Sunday, as it turned out!): Lugnaquilla, Wicklow – the Leinster giant, right in our backyard.

The sheer driving alone was an epic road trip of almost 1,200kms! We drove from Carlow to Kerry (270 kms) to Mayo (350 kms) to Down (320kms) and back home v Lugnaquilla (250kms) — a winding, glorious loop of wild terrain and wilder ambition. There was still snow on Carrauntoohil that April, but we didn’t let it slow us. In truth, we more or less ran up and down every mountain. Youth, fitness, and a kind of joyful madness carried us on.

John Wynne and Turlough O Brien on top of Ireland’s highest mountain, Carrauntohill.

In the end, we were so full of drive that we climbed Slieve Donard and Lugnaquilla on the same day. It was a bit mad, looking back. But we didn’t think twice about it at the time. That’s what the club spirit felt like back then — all heart, no hesitation.

L to R: Turlough O Brien, Saint Patrick and Donal Nolan!

It was a great era for Éire Óg and Carlow GAA – 5 Leinster Club titles and 2 All Ireland Finals. In many ways the Club had indeed made it to the summit of the GAA World. Looking back now, it wasn’t just the mountains we climbed. It was everything Éire Óg stood for: loyalty, teamwork, no shortcuts. Three lads in one car. Sleeping where we could. Eating what we could find. Racing up and down hills with lungs full of fire. That kind of spirit doesn’t just appear — it’s built over years by generations of those gone before us; through trust, effort, and a sense of belonging. Memories made.

Donal Nolan facing away, John Wynne.

The Mourne Wall on Slieve Donard

Slieve Beagh, Co. Monaghan, Ireland’s County High Points

Spent the morning collecting the windfall from our sole pear tree (anyone for pears?) and gathering leaves so it was late enough heading up to Monaghan’s County High Point, Slieve Beagh. You see I thought this would be a doddle on a lovely Saturday evening! How wrong was I!

This climb caught me by surprise; at only 373 metres I reckoned I’d be up and down in no time and back home early. I passed through Clontibret and Scotstown on the way, two great football strongholds and both about to contest the County SFC Final. The amount of flags and bunting was fantastic and it was great to see the Club committees get behind their senior teams so wholeheartedly. They know what it takes. It’s a religion in these parts!

An Bhoth – Scotstown

Starting point is at this electronic gate above Knockatallon. It was 4pm by the time I arrived there and there’s a clear definable trail from here …. for about 200 metres …. and then it’s every explorer for themselves! After that it’s blanket bog all the way to the summit. And very very wet underfoot.

As the map shows, this part of Monaghan juts into counties Fermanagh and Tyrone and is called the ‘Three County Hollow”. It’s very isolated and a true wilderness. Sliabh Beagh is an important mountainous area shared between both jurisdictions. The mountain covers over 3000ha and contains a number of protected area designations: Special Area of Conservation (SAC), Area of Special Scientific Interest (ASSI), Ramsar wetland of international importance, National Nature Reserve (NNR) and Natural Heritage Area (NHA), in recognition of its importance for biodiversity.

I didn’t see any grouse but I had plenty of sightings of Snipe, which seem to wait until the very last moment and then suddenly take flight from the dense heather cover. Here’s a lovely drawing, by Eleanor Sutherland, which I saw on the National Parks website about ground nesting birds:

This is spongy bog territory; it’s muddy on the approach trail and then it’s pure heathland which is so difficult to cross. Imagine doing high knee lifts for 5kms with water up to your ankles and the ground trying to suck the boots off your feet!

Because of the absence of a defined trail and a lack of trail markers, it’s essential to have a map, physical or digital and to note the surrounding landmarks. The first landmark was Lough Antraicer on my left shortly after I started out.

As there is no defined route I took a more or less straight line over the crest of a hill, avoiding any bog holes and being especially careful not to twist an ankle or knee in these really difficult underfoot conditions. It’s a barren landscape, almost featureless and devoid of any sign of human habitation. The only sounds are the wind and the song birds. There are no roads and no man made constructions. In its own way it’s beautiful and walking here was a great way to clear the mind and live in the moment.

Knee high in heather, making walking very difficult and progress very slow.

Big sky country. Nothing but bog in all directions.

Finally, the summit. Marked by a solitary wooden post. It was glorious in its simplicity. Just beyond the post is Lough Sallagh, which was hidden from view until I climbed on the small mound at the top. Not far away from here was another lake, Shane Barnagh’s Lough and it has an interesting story. Shane Branagh was an Irish rebel in the 17th century, a bit of Robin Hood man, a highway man who robbed from the rich, the Protestant Ascendancy class and gave to the poor. He hid away in these isolated parts for a long time before finally being captured and brought to Dublin Castle where he was executed. His body was supposedly cast into the Lough of his name…

I was hoping I might pick up a trail when I arrived at the summit that might make the return easier but there was no sign so I turned around and headed back, spotting two hikers in the distance who were coming around the side of the hill that I had struggled over earlier. We exchanged a wave in the distance and they headed for the top. Being much younger and fitter it wasn’t long before they reached it and they quickly followed my path back to the starting point. Turned out the two young ladies, one from Portlaoise and the other from Monaghan, were also doing the County High Point Challenge and this was their 18th Point completed. They had climbed Cuilcagh (Stairway to Heaven), the Cavan High Point, in the morning! It took me about 2 hours to complete this walk and I was glad to finish in daylight as darkness was beginning to close in – I wouldn’t fancy crossing that bog at night!

This was one of the toughest walks I’ve done, even though it wasn’t very high or steep but it was 7kms of pure bog covered in heather. It was hard to pick level ground to plant a foot on and it was full of bog holes and surface water. Lifting a foot was like trying to defy gravity with the bog trying to pull the boots off! Not one I will do again but a great experience and it would be much nicer on a summers day!

Truskmore – Sligo & Leitrim Counties High Point

The Dartry mountains, featuring famed Ben Bulben and its magnificent table top plateau, tower over Sligo and are one of the most stunning mountain ranges in Ireland. Truskmore is the highest point in the range and the walk to the summit, along the access road to the TV transmitter provides stunning views to the north out past Lissadell House, Mullaghmore, across Donegal Bay and Slieve League in the distance.

Looking west, Knocknarea towers over Sligo Town and Glencar Lake. Incredible views all round – if you get a break in the clouds and from the rain! The access road is located on the Gleniff Horseshoe Loop Drive. It involves climbing over the locked gate – well designed to enable an easy climb over!.

The access road provides a relatively easy walking route to the top. I parked close to the gate but out of the way of access and there isn’t much room for more than a couple of cars to park here. The zig zag access road is quite steep for long stretches, gradient averaging 10% – and a few rests help to catch the breath! The weather was quite rough, with very high winds, some rain and sleet and it wasn’t long before the mountain was shrouded in mist. Navigation wasn’t a problem, apart from the short section across the wet boggy area to make it to the Leitrim High Pint of 631 metres. The Sligo high point is located beside the mast and is slightly higher at 647 metres. A map is an essential requirement on hill walks as conditions can change rapidly and its so easy lose all sense of direction.

This was especially through when searching for the Leitrim High Point as it is located right on the edge of a very steep cliff face – if the wind had been from the north, it could easily have blown us off course and over the edge!

I was delighted to make this unplanned trip to take in these two High Points, making it 20 County High Points now completed. This climb would be a terrific one to do on a fine day as the views are outstanding. Counties Sligo and Leitrim are two of my favourites, neither are quite mainstream tourism but they both have an abundance of scenic mountain, lake and sea views plus a high number of heritage sites.Other laces worth visiting aer Carrowkeel, Knocknarea, Caves of Keash, Glencar Waterfall and the Devil’s Chimney!

Tombstone of WB Yeats at Drumcliff.

A word of caution while walking in this area; access may not always be possible across private lands and needs to be checked out in advance. Eagerly looking forward to my next County High point!