There are Many Paths to Tread Through Shadow or How to Climb an Irish Mountain

A lot of things remind me of song lyrics. The first half of the title of this post is from the Lord of the Rings soundtrack (I'm pretty sure it was not one of Tolkien's original poems, but as I don't have the books handy, I can't say for certain) - the song that Pippin sings in The Return of the King. The whole verse is actually fairly appropriate to my situation (if you can look at it objectively, forget Mount Doom, impending war, and the creepy dude devouring chicken):

Home is behind, the world ahead.

And there are many paths to tread

Through shadow, to the edge of night

'Til the stars are all alight 

Mist and shadow, cloud and shade 

All shall fade, all shall fade

The theme for the Riders of Rohan is perfect for when the sun breaks through in the mountains. Some Dead Marshes music might be appropriate when you run across some remnants thereof. If you are familiar with the "Taking the Hobbits to Isengard" remix, that will also be appropriate for some of the Irish mountain scenery.

Well, with that in mind, let's talk about Irish mountains. First off, they are very small. The first one I hiked (Guagan Barra, Oct. 11) was just a kilometer high. But this doesn't mean they are easy! They are actually quite steep, often rocky, and always damp. More than damp. These mountains are literally made of bogs. The grasses are thick, but the turf below is saturated at all times. That is one thing this country never has to worry about, drought. I'd say they never have to worry about running out of water, which is true, but whether the water is accessible/clean enough to use would be debatable. Anyway. So when you go to hike an Irish mountain, hiking shoes are fine until you run into a place that's more water than grass and the water starts seeping in through shoelace holes and even over the top of the shoe if you aren't careful. Gortex boots are a better choice, but we make do with what we have. They actually sent someone away last week because she had sneakers (good ones, but they aren't hiking shoes). "They" being the guys in charge of mountaineering club. Every Sunday they have buses waiting at Gaol Cross and for 7euro they take anyone interested off to the wild countryside to hike a mountain. It is important to go with the club unless you have your own map of the area, a compass, and good orienteering abilities because although paths start off marked (that is, as paths for the people who own the sheep...), they quickly disappear into grassy rocky wastelands that all look the same. Actually, it looks different every time you look up from your footing, and that is probably worse. So to sum it up: you better know what you are getting into before you decide to hike an Irish mountain. And have a buddy who knows, too.

When we started off at Guagan Barra (in counties Cork and Kerry), it was pretty clear, but as we got higher up, the mist closed in on us and it got cold and windy. We trekked along the top, slowly getting soaked from the mist and our own sweat, despite chilled noses and fingers. At last the mist cleared and at our halfway point (where we met the group doing the hike in the opposite direction and stopped for lunch) we could see down to the water (I'm not sure if it was ocean or lough). After lunch, we spent some time going across the tops, fairly flat going, but the water was deep in some places. The sun occasionally came through, but mostly the sky surrounding us was layered in dramatic, stormy-looking clouds. Then we began the serious downhill. Not only was this boggy, but it was very steep. The nature of bogs is to be thickly grassy on top which is very deceptive as to the actual nature of the ground beneath. The sheep had not trouble, but without walking sticks it was tricky for the rest of us. Thankfully, it turned to forest when we got down far enough and was at least solid footing. We passed a wide stream which is actually the start of the River Lee and made it at last back to the car park where we changed pants and shoes.

Hungry Hill (Oct. 18) was much more rocky, but just as boggy and more rainy than misty. The uphill parts were even steeper and though there were rocks to cling to and assure footing, they were slippery from the rain and muddy from the 20 people ahead of me. When we stopped for lunch at the dividing line between Cork and Kerry, it was just lightly misting, but it had been raining off and on since we started the intense uphill part. After lunch was downhill and it did not rain anymore, but remained misty until we were almost back down and then it cleared just enough to see the Atlantic.

Perhaps these descriptions have made you wonder why I bothered to go back for the second hike. I love mountains is the standard reason, but there's more to it than that. Every time the sun comes out or even in the misty (mystic) landscape, I am impressed by the views. There are precious few trees in this land, and though I mentioned forest in the first hike, that is unusual. Mostly it is grassy and rocky, wild-looking landscapes. I guess it is hard to say how inspiring that is without sounding cliché. One of these days there will be a poem, but it has been very difficult for me to write here. Nothing measures up to what I see/feel. The air is so delicious and I really love all the grasses. Each kind makes the land look different. There are a million little streams and they trickle away so cheerfully. The mist makes the land look like it is fading away to Faerie. And apart from loving the land so much, it is also really refreshing to get in some intense exercise. Exercise = endorphins and stronger muscles and all that jazz. I mean, ask me when I'm struggling uphill and I'll say, "I think I'm going to die," but at the end of the day, it's very satisfying to look back and say, "I climbed that mountain" and feel the exhaustion of a successful day. It is also a great opportunity to talk to a bunch of different people (though not when you are out of breath and crawling up a gorge). I'm not sure when my next Sunday hike will be (since this week is Halloween and next week is Berlin...), but I look forward to all the cold, damp rugged beauty.

The start of Hungry Hill.