I’d like to think I could live to see my 25th prime birthday. For now, as I prepare for my 18th prime year, I can reflect on how much has changed since my 17th. Key among those changes are that I’ve been successfully treated for prostate cancer and I’ve met two more grandchildren. So I’ve lots to be thankful for.
In a fit of fitness insanity, I set out from Killiney to the start of
The Dublin Mountains Way (DMW) at 8 am. I walked down to Killiney Beach and south along the beach to get to Shankill. That 5km took an hour. It was cold and damp but bright and not actually raining. I bought some bread and bottled coffee in Spar since the coffee shop at the start hadn’t opened yet. Added to two litres of water in my camelbak and the apples, bananas, figs and yoghurt drinks, I thought I had enough to sustain me for the next eight hours but it took over ten.
I headed west past Brady’s pub into Rathmichael Wood and on eventually to Carrickgollan and the Lead Mines. The views of the city were great but the hints of rain and sleet became my main interest. The DMW signs were easy to follow as I ascended through Barnaslingan Wood up to The Scalp, the border between Dublin and Wicklow counties, 12 km walked.
The worst part of the entire walk is the section from The Scalp to Ticknock. Six kilometres along busy roads including the hazards on that long climb to Johnny Foxes pub on narrow roads with blind bends and hurtling cars. I found myself pressed into roadside bushes twice. Over reaction? Maybe, though safety trumps injury from driver inattention or protruding wing mirrors.
I entered Ticknock Forest, 18 km since I left home, to see quite a few deer watching me. It’s Monday and I’m almost the only person on the walk so the deer have the place to themselves. I needed some distraction at the point of no return at the top of Three Rock Mountain. Great views but the chill was getting to me. I plugged in my earbuds and listened to the William Boyd novel Sweet Caress read to me by Jilly Bond. Her style is annoying and her range of accents not quite as broad or consistent as the novel deserves. I wonder if Lee Miller was at least a part of the inspiration for the story.
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| Low noon at Fairy Castle |
I passed the Fairy Castle cairn where two dogless people were taking selfies and panorama photos. This was the highest point of the walk, 537 m amsl. The top of nearby Kippure was still covered in snow, the ground around me patchy with snow and frozen water.
And I went on to the boggy top of Tibradden where another couple were exercising a dog with hurling stick and ball. Odd how easily we can ignore the Neolithic summer solstice aligned ‘grave’ that’s been here for five thousand years.
My 28th kilometre found me entering Cruagh Forest, walking up Cruagh Mountain and down to Glendoo Brook where my phone rang and I needed to stand still to maintain coverage for a 15 minute business discussion. It had started to drizzle as I resumed and reached Killakee and crossed the completely logged Killakee Wood. I hate the sense of post-nuclear desolation such clearances leave. Again, my phone summoned me and I stood on a stump for ten minutes with a line of sight to the distant cellular tower on Kippure. I skipped the optional Hellfire Club loop because there were only two more hours of light and I was tiring.
And then the walk got boring again, a pointless six kilometre trudge along tarmac roads from Piperstown down to Cunard and Castlekelly. I saw several ravens calling and rolling as they flew in the light breeze. I read at St Anne’s graveyard that the O’Tooles ‘wasted’ the area in 1306. I had been angered and ashamed by the amount of rubbish fly-tipped into the drainage ditches beside the road though I didn't blame those O'Tooles. I wasn’t in any mood to visit the church after nine hours walking.
I walked with a cock pheasant for 100 m along the Dodder River entering Glenasmole Reservoir. I carried alongside the river to Kiltipper Park and some abandoned, presumably stolen bicycles. By now, my patience was as exhausted as my legs. I had run out of food and water and hadn’t passed a shop or pub since Johnny Foxes, five hours long past.
I reached the suburban sprawls of Oldbawn and Kilinarden as the sun set spectacularly over a closed cafe. So I pushed on to Sean Walsh Park and the Square in Tallaght. That last six kilometres was flat, very boring and tedious and I amused myself by counting registration plates beginning 161, those new since January 1st. The economy must be booming again because there were a lot.
I crossed the Tallaght bridge and went into Burger King for a large fries and a pint of milk before getting a taxi home, arriving an hour late for the dinner prepared for me. I wasn’t too sore after 48 kilometres, ten and a half hours, though my lumbar spine was reminding me where I broke it in my seventh prime year. As said earlier, I have many reasons to be thankful.
In short, I can't recommend this walk in it’s entirety. Several sections are great with rewarding views (Lead Mines, Three Rock, Tibradden) but they are stitched together by three tedious six kilometre stretches, one of which puts walkers into hazardous contention with fast travelling and frankly, distracted drivers. I don’t imagine the Dublin Mountains Way would be any more rewarding walked in the opposite direction.
I've walked all but the western end of The Ridgeway so I decided to complete it this weekend. I set out from The White Horse to walk to Avebury, 35 km or about seven hours. Other bloggers advised that opportunities for refreshment are limited on this section so I carried a small tin of tonic, a few litres of other liquids and the contents of a large fruit bowl. It was 3 degrees C at the start, rain in the forecast and I was multilayer insulated.
Amidst the flints of Wilts and the welts of the shire, showers darkened the horizon and pipits and larks sang their territorial displays before the hail arrived. A buzzard tree hopped and later a hobby flashed past. Pheasants everywhere fattening themselves for local tables. Manicured horse gallops and rumours of heated horse swimming pools suggest the wealth of the area. Lonely trees abound, my photographers minimalist eye drawn to them and the myriad patterns on the chalky fields churned by rabbits and moles.
I had ice cream and tea from a van on Barbary Castle car park. I took a detour to see the stone aged Liddington Castle ramparts. Passed by many Bassetts and I wandered around the neolithic henges in Avebury. A memorable history lesson in a live pageant.
