Category: Walks

Once we had gathered in Muckross, Clare Shelley ensured that the 36 of us came under “Starter’s Orders”. The bus ride from Muckross House car park to Derrycunnihy Church (courtesy of the RTAI), had an air of expectancy, a reminder of the buzz of the school tour of yore. A welcome sight on board was newcomers adding to the vigour of our group. The dark grey clouds as we sped along took turns with beckoning sunshine, vivid reminders that we tip-toed between a “sweat-fest” and a serious drenching.

Pat Crowley was our Moses, as we began our wanderings in primeval oak forest, bog, dirt road and raised walk-way. Contrary to his detailed recce notes, the first stage, once blended with the chat and zest of us let loose, ran from 60 to 90 minutes! Meanwhile James covered every angle of walking and resting, as evidenced by the accompanying photos.

The early going was a gently rising slope with little sign of spring. Equally shy were the pine marten and white-tailed eagle, who probably kept a covert eye on us. How wise of God to entrust the care of the Kingdom to the good people of Kerry. No doubt He knew they would mind it and share it. We in turn would not begrudge them a good living from such care and service, delivered with good humour.

In the “always a teacher” tag we bear, having examined the graffiti of James Ó Neill 1815, we concluded he was ready to begin joined-up writing soon.

Post lunch, by a waterfall, the pathway climbed upwards and the sleepy, lazy furze of earlier was now “unprofitably gay”. This prompted an outburst of Oliver Goldsmith’s “The Village Master taught his little school” etc. The polite walkers stealing a breather on the steep hill, gave all the appearance of a generous audience. The reciter was happy to parse the audience no further!

Farther along the path, K. in a modern version of “the lady drops her handkerchief”… dropped her water bottle into the raging torrent [Editor’s note: Tiny gentle stream?] Two latter-day gentlemen risked all to retrieve the bottle and a goodly share of the brownie points!!

At the risk of our grub getting cold at the Killarney Oaks Hotel, the pace quickened. In brave defiance of the forecast (thunder showers and gales), the shower at walk’s end seemed a sort of blessing. We descended below Torc Waterfall, with a brief nod of appreciation to a much-loved landmark.

Soon, we were back at the car park in right good spirits; the combined great outdoors and our physical exertions yielded a natural “high”.  P, on removing his shirt drew a small but appreciative audience, but thankfully did not frighten the horses.

Our hotel was deceptively small-looking from the outside, but once we made it inside, the food and service was perfect for our needs. All in all, it was a very special outing in a most beautiful setting.

Bhí lá dár saol againn i gCill Áirne. Maith sibh, ár gCoiste!

Ár mbuíochas le Seán Ó Callanáin as an tuairisc fairsing, saoithiúil seo.

Buíochas freisin le chuile duine a sheoil chugainn na griangrafanna .

 

 

Our latest amble walk took the group of 24 through Corrin Woods ending up at the large stone cross at the summit. This cross was erected in 1933 and nearby is the historical site of the mound ‘Carn Thiernagh’ which dates back to the Bronze age. From there we had a fantasic view of Fermoy town and the surrounding countryside on this lovely day in April. Then it was back to Corrin Event Centre for refreshments and a quick view of the centre. Our thanks to Ber O’Sullivan who led the walk and for the  brief insight to Fermoy’s historical past.

Thanks to Liam MacCraith for this report.

The only motivation we needed was “Anois teacht an Earraigh”, for our 10km walk in Ballinaboola, near Ballyhea, led by Helen Waide. Helen exudes an uaisleacht, such that I suspect we would follow her to the Gates of Hell and a step beyond, if she made to go on.

Coming the week after Cheltenham the early indications were that the going would be soft to yielding. We need not have worried. The pathways proved firm, and wide enough to walk in twos and threes.

As we gradually climbed the 200m to the top, the faraway fleshpots of Charleville/Rath Luirc lay clear to view in a golden vale.

The pace was expertly set by our leader, while Marie Power as sweeper ensured that nobody peeled off the back.

As picnic thoughts began to gnaw our innards – Helen promised a large log that would serve as our table, just around the next bend. The only “picnic log” that greeted us, five bends later, had the circumference of a half-pint beer bottle. Mar a dúirt Pat C. –          “Lag iarracht”.

A strength of our association is that due to a commonality of training and working life, we can absorb new members almost instantly, in shared past experience. I was in Pats with John K. and Kath. Kath taught with Ann whose Dad was a pal of mine, etc.

Admittedly nobody asked, nor perhaps is interested, but the number of men was a modest if magnificent seven of 25.

With the measuring statistic of a 4% chance of rain, nobody was surprised that the minute we stopped for grub, the first drops located us. Post picnic it was all downhill, not re our enjoyment, just the gravity induced race to the bottom. The dry main road back to  Corbett Court mocked the rain sodden locks of the hat-less.

The soup was warm, tasty and comforting, full marks indeed. The huge and colourful dessert plates seemed to me the size of some of our off-shore islands. A quick calculation confirmed that 18.75 plates would tile an average bathroom. Given the loud yellows and reds, and early morning shower might indicate the wearing of sunglasses.

As we finished our grub, the lively chat proved the perfect leaven.

The insistent piped country music at Corbett Court distracted this scribe. Thoughts of line-dancing in Wilton a whole 48 hours away with the incomparable Helen had my weary walking feet twitching to dance.

Travelling out and back with Clare, Mary and Ann, the minute planning and pains taken to offer our members a fun and safe outing struck me forcibly, as the plans for Cape Clear etc were discussed. The vitality of our association is dependant on those who go the extra mile that others may partake in and enjoy our wide range of events.                        Go mba fada iad faoi bhláth.

le Seán Ó Callanáin.