Oughterard to Mám Éan: E2 Day 3

A sunny morning by the blue waters of Lough Corrib and an evening climb up towards Mám Éan pass in the mountains.

My left knee was "creaking", "clicking" and "cracking" this morning as I struggled through my exercises which are designed to strengthen the muscles supporting the joint. It seems to have suffered from my difficulties on boggy ground yesterday morning. Except when camping I try to complete a variety of exercises each day covering my knees, ankles, back, "core" and upper body. Despite my perseverance my level of fitness seems to go up and down for no particular reason, it seems to be on a "down" this trip and I was struggling to complete my routine. Still the stiff back I suffered from just before leaving (or more accurately a stiff left upper buttock) seems to have resolved itself...although today I developed a runny nose.

My GPS track had the Western Way following the "low road" out of Oughterard, but this was out of date. The Western Way now follows the "high road". An improvement as it gave views down on Lough Corrib, one of Ireland's larger lakes with a multitude of islands. Today it looked especially beautiful beneath blue skies as I sat and admired it from Barbara Edward's seat, a bench dedicated to her memory.

Road followed by the Western Way by the waters of Lough Corrib.

The quiet "high road" dropped down to join the slightly busier "low road" which continued around the lough, coming close to the shore in its latter stages. At almost the end of the road there was a car park above an old stone quay. An ideal spot to enjoy my lunch, sitting on the edge of the pier in the sunshine, leaning against a stone bollard, looking at the clear, lapping water and the mountains beyond. A motor boat passed in the distance beyond a diminutive island and there were distant voices from a nearby house.

Blue skies and the blue waters of Lough Corrib by old stone jetties where I had lunch.

Shortly after I left the tarmac for a long section of path. At times the path was made of loose stone at others it consisted of boardwalk. The two, parallel wooden planks of the boardwalk, also called bog bridges it seems, had either those "u" shaped nails hammered into them or attached chicken wire to stop it becoming too slippery. Most of the route was through forestry, all commercial conifers, usually following fire breaks. Such efforts made the hike quicker and easier, and protected the wet ground, its plants and mosses from being turned into a muddy quagmire from the boots of walkers.

A donkey took an interest in me but was maybe disappointed that I had no apple to give him.

Boardwalk across wet ground in forestry.

After the board walk section there was a busy road for a few kilometres. Fortunately it had a good verge and the views ahead of the mountains, a patchwork of sunlit areas and shade, was attractive to look at. I diverted to Maum for a coffee and a pastry at the food store. While enjoying them a man told me that the Western Way had once continued along the lake instead of joining the road. There was an old cottage used by hikers but it burnt down. The landowner blamed hikers and consequently withdrew permission for the Western Way to cross his land, forcing it to use the section of busy road. In Ireland it seems a land owner's agreement was needed for any path open to the public across their estate. Before leaving the food store I could not resist buying a bag of "shamrock and sour cream" crisps to go with my tea, although they tasted like sour cream and chives to me.

There had been a few wintry showers, the kind where it was on and off with my waterproof over trousers, as the showers started and stopped. However the weather was fine as I climbed up towards a pass. Leaving a dead end road, empty of traffic, I followed a track over the brow of a small ridge and found a flat dry spot, sheltered by a bank of rocks on one side, perfect for tonight's camp site. As it was after 6 pm I doubted there would be anyone passing. A consideration as wild camping without the land owner's permission was probably illegal, although camping "on durable land" as the signs say, seems widely accepted. Which was fortunate as soon after I had pitched my tent, and struggled in out of the wind, a vehicle went by. Then the vehicle came back. However they did not try to attract my attention in the tent. I had thought I heard a succession of people go through a nearby gate, but when I looked I realised it was sheep rubbing their flanks against it. As I went to sleep in the darkness I kept hearing bursts of "whirring" sounds but I was too tired (or lazy) to investigate what kind of bird or insect was responsible.

Wild camp to Oughterard: E2 Day 2

A worrying start to the day dodging heavy construction traffic. Later I followed a quiet track which weaved between trees, lakes and sheep, arriving at a friendly B&B at Oughterard. 

A frost sparkled on my flysheet this morning. Last night had been colder than I expected. Nevertheless, despite my summer sleeping bag I slept well in three layers of clothing, waking twice to answer calls of nature and very briefly admire the stars above. Deliberately starting early to avoid the construction work I had heard last night, I struggled for a while on rough, boggy ground stumbling into unseen holes, my leg suddenly dropping. Such events did my knee no good at all. After one false trail and negotiating branches left by forestry operations I regained the firm surface of a gravel, forestry track.

As I walked along in the misty, darkness, pinpick red lights from wind turbines scattered on the horizon, a pick up passed its headlights briefly illuminating me. As the sky turned grey construction work was already beginning. For several kilometres I shared the gravel road, much if it newly remade, with vans, cars and soon, large trucks, their wheels as high as me, carrying stone or returning empty. In a few places they were quarrying the granite rock, the noise of the hammers mounted on the arms of JCBs spread across the hillside were the pounding sounds I had heard last night. In the half light of dawn powerful lights on these machines enabled them to continue working. While I am sure my presence was undesirable among the heavy construction traffic, nobody stopped me and I disobeyed no signs explicitly prohibiting my passage. A few signs stated that road construction would take place between July and September and walkers and cyclists might be restricted, but this was April.

Finally leaving the construction traffic behind the hike improved immediately. A forest track, little used by any vehicles, took me around the side of a mountain. The thinly planted conifers frequently allowed views down to a lake or the bog lands beyond. Marks on the ground indicated the track had recently been used by a mountain bike and deer. A rabbit bounded out of my way. Two swans were starkly white on the black waters of a lough.

Track through forestry.

Beside Lough Buffy.

Leaving the forest and crossing a sheep farm, climbing over padlocked gates, I reached a minor road by a sign that said there was "No Access" to the track from which I had come. There was also a footpath waymark pointing down the road, indicating that the Connemara Way was routed somewhat to the west of the tracks I had been taking. I had last seen a waymark by my camp site, new road construction had presumably removed later posts so I am not sure precisely where our routes had parted. 

My entry from track on the left onto a minor road, the post indicated that the Connemara Way was to the west of the route I took through the forest.

Watched closely by some sheep I followed the road north to the village of Oughterard. Arriving about 11 am, too early to check in to my lodging I enjoyed a couple of lattes (and an almond tart) in a café. On subsequently checking in to the Camp St B&B, the helpful owner suggested I took a walk down to the pier at Lough Corrib, an impressive, large lake with several islands. I should be able to admire the lough for much of tomorrow. 

Village of Oughterard.

I noticed a sign advertising a consultation on a "Greenway" from Galway to Oughterard. If developed this would be an attractive means of walking to Oughterard from Galway, an alternative to the route I took. Unfortunately the consultation had recently finished otherwise I would have written in to support this excellent way of encouraging people to enjoy the undoubted health benefits of exercise. Sadly not everyone felt the same. A sign attached to a telegraph pole stated "No Greenway through Private Property". Comments on-line suggested without access to private property (use of a disused railway line was being considered), the Greenway would unlikely be viable. The many "No Entry" and "No Trespassing" signs suggested that Ireland was a more conservative society than I imagined.

A GPX track of my route from Galway to Oughterard can be found here or here.

Galway to wild camp: E2 Day 1

A day of walking along roads by houses, fields, moorland and trees.

I woke in the night and wondered where my wife had gone, forgetting we were now separated by the Irish Sea. We were both following our dreams, and while our activities, our visions of future activities took us apart at times, paradoxically I believed their pursuit made us a stronger team together. 

"The Western Way", the long distance path I was planning to follow, began at Oughterard, a little way from Galway. Ruling out the possibility of catching a bus, I considered three routes for walking there. Most direct, but probably least pleasant, was following the main road. Next option was linking up a series of small back roads giving a hike of 36 kilometres. A little long for a first day of walking but a bit short for two days. I selected a third option, deviating into forest and moorland for a longer trip of 42 kilometres that I would cover in two days, wild camping somewhere undefined on the way.

Crossing the river and passing the canal with a hopeful swan and a heron, I walked out from the scenic centre of Galway. As I progressed the houses became gradually more modern until eventually they thinned out and I was among green fields bordered by dry stone walls made of chunks of granite. Well presented houses continued to be scattered lightly along the roadside for most of the day. As my distance from Galway grew, the fields became scattered with granite blocks and outcrops, until in time the field boundaries disappeared and the rocks stood in boggy land with black lakes (or loughs) edged by reeds. An exception was a well groomed golf course I crossed, with patches of trees between bright green manicured fairways. In the morning the sun was giving the world the full benefit of its warmth and light, turning the flowers of gorse that grew on the roadside a dazzling yellow. Near the city the roads I was following were busy with traffic, as I headed out first the pavement disappeared, then the roads narrowed from two to a single lane, and thankfully the cars become progressively fewer.

Quiet road north of Galway with drystone walls.

Lakes (or loughs), blanket bog, conifer plantations and wind farms (to be typical of my route across Ireland).

I planned to miss out a section of tarmac road by diverting through a wind farm, but the first gate had a "No Entry to Unauthorised Personnel" sign. So I entered at the next gate which was unlocked and had no such sign. Today the several wind farms in the area were not earning their keep, the blades were still, lacking any wind. A major limitation of wind energy is that some other form of power is needed when the wind does not blow. Near my exit from the wind farm was a building claiming to run an "Activity Park". On the gate where I rejoined the road, a sign stated "Authorised Personnel Only" and in addition warned that it was "A Live Fire Area". As the shooting activities being offered by the Activity Centre were paintball and laser tag, I did not feel my life had been unduly threatened. A later wind farm also had signs prohibiting entry on its more substantial gates. It seems wind farms owners here do not like walkers or others seeking outdoor recreation. I am unsure why as there seems little risk in letting people in and a positive benefit in terms of public relations for an industry that frequently faces opposition to new schemes.

I was encountering waymarks and a footpath sign for the "Slí Chonamara" or Connemara Way pointing in the direction I was walking. Generally these consisted of a black post with an arrow and walking person stamped on it and the indentation made filled with yellow paint, or else a metal plate was nailed to the post. The yellow paint on these plates had faded white with age but looking carefully I could see they once had the same image of a walking person and arrow. Perusal of the internet revealed that the Connemara Way opened in 2007 but was effectively abandoned in 2012. Nevertheless many waymarks and signs remain although I could not find any detailed map of where it went. By chance I followed its path for most of today. At the time it was criticised for following too many roads but as Ireland does not have "rights of way" legislation similar to England, Scotland or other European countries, creating long distance paths off public roads is not easy.

In time the tarmac ended and I was on a forest track among either conifers, or their sad remains after being felled and harvested. A sign warned of forestry activities and I could hear something in the distance. As I reached the mileage I had planned for the day, I turned off the gravel track onto a fire break. Coincidentally the yellow waymarks of the Connemara Way took the same route, passing close to a lake. The narrow "path" was initially muddy, marshy, wet and uneven. Slipping over I was glad to reach more stable ground. Finding a good camping spot was not easy on the tussocky ground, with depressions filled with water saturated sphagnum moss. What sounded like pile driving was taking place not so far away, so I picked a spot among young trees unlikely to need felling and read awhile, delaying erection of my tent to avoid attracting attention. As dusk approached the noise eventually ceased and I heard a vehicle drive down a nearby track. My tent was by now erected with my sleeping bag lying in a groove left by some vehicle many years ago. I was hoping this restricted but linear feature would allow me to gain a good night's sleep.

Galway: E2 start point

A day of travelling and memories to reach the start of my walk in Galway.

Despite its large size, Cardiff airport was a quiet place. There were only two flights on the departure screen for this afternoon, and mine to Dublin was the only one being checked in when I arrived. A queue of people in an otherwise empty departure hall. Ryanair does not have the best reputation so I was concerned as I stood in line to drop off my rucksack, wondering if I would be asked for more money for something hidden in the small print. However, all went well. The check in clerk even advised the lady in front, who had three hand luggage bags as well as a large suitcase for the hold, on how to minimise the extra charge.

My arrival at Dublin was ten minutes late, and I had a train I wanted to catch. The distance from the gate to immigration and the baggage reclaim was great. Although I overtook quite a few people with my fast walking I still had to wait for my rucksack to come through (fortunately intact). I reached the bus for Dublin with three minutes to spare. However as we moved, with excruciating slowness through the traffic filled streets of central Dublin, every traffic light red, my anxiety was rising with the fear I would miss my train to Galway, especially as I had to find the machine from which to extract my pre booked ticket. I glared at the passengers leaving and joining the bus at each stop, stowing and retrieving their bags, in leisurely slow motion. In such a state of stress I did not appreciate the view of the River Liffey in the afternoon sunlight, with its modern bridges, new and classical buildings, although I did spot the Guinness brewery I had visited on my first visit. Despite the bus's crawl along the riverside road I arrived at the railway station in plenty of time!

I had visited Galway and Western Ireland two times before. On the first occasion I came with a group of university friends for a week in a cottage near Miltown Malbay. We travelled on the same train across the flat Midlands of Ireland (although without the long Gaelic messages that now preceded every announcement on the train's public address system). There were three bedrooms in the holiday house and six of us, three girls and three boys. We picked lots to decide where to sleep and I was lucky, fortune (or destiny) delivered me a room with my future wife, rather than than one of the single sex bedrooms. Well matched we hitch-hiked to the Cliffs of Moher (hugely high), Kilfenora (limestone pavement at the Burren) and Kilrush (estuary of Shannon), generally alone as the others were not quite so adventurous. However, one of them joined us for the long, evening walk, in complete darkness, to Miltown Malbay, where I enjoyed a pint of Guinness in a small, one room pub. The Guinness was served slowly, with great reverence, the excess froth being carefully scraped off with some special implement. After a few ups and downs we married and have shared our love and lives together in the decades since. For one of our many wedding anniversaries we revisited Western Ireland. In our absence Ireland had become wealthy, joining the EU probably helped. Now instead of small, one room pubs, Miltown Malbay had seafood restaurants and the number of holiday homes seemed to have proliferated. Gone were the donkeys who pulled carts of hay and whose noses we had stroked. We struggled to find the fiddle music that had entertained us before. So on this trip I was keen to find out how Ireland had developed. Were there still echoes of the country we had enjoyed so much on our first trip? Or maybe my memories of that first trip had been coloured by our new found love...

View from train.

I arrived in Galway as the setting sun was colouring the lines of fluffy clouds. After checking into my hotel I ate in a restaurant by Eyre square. An area of grass, paths, sculpture and concrete, people walked across it and sat on steps. A lively area with a ruined section of house in a central position, lit by garish, but effective, pink floodlights.

Eyre Square at night.

I wandered down to the pedestrianised streets of the "Latin Quarter". Buskers were singing Leonard Cohen and the like, a few homeless people were making their beds in doorways. Despite it being Monday the streets were busy, and I was conscious of wearing rather more clothes than the younger women and men around me. I crossed the river, admired the white, lit waterfall over a weir on the canal, and braved a bar, from which I could hear traditional Irish music. I was allowed in after the guy on the door checked I was not wearing track suit bottoms(!). The bar's walls and ceiling appeared yellowed by years of cigarette smoke, from which it was now mercifully free. I struggled to obtain a drink at the busy bar, but fortunately the younger crowds were collecting at the far end of the pub, well away from the musicians, leaving a few of us older men able to sit in comfort and listen to the music making. The group's instruments included a fiddle (crucial for the sound of traditional Irish music), two guitars, two flutes, an accordion and something like bagpipes. It seemed a fitting start to my walk around Ireland. 

Bar with traditional music.

E2 European Long Distance Path, my next challenge

A network of 12 walking routes, called E-paths, spread out across Europe linking its extremities, crossing countries, cultures, languages and landscapes. They were devised by the European Ramblers Association and its member hiking organisations, beginning 50 years ago. Prior to the great Coronavirus pandemic I walked the length of the E4, 10,660 kilometres, 6,662 miles across 11 countries. It took me five years, walking it in four or five week stages. Having finished, basked in the glory of my success, written a book, I began wondering what to do next. For two years the Covid pandemic restricted me to shorter walks, mainly in the UK, but now the clouds of health restrictions are lifting it was time to start the next big project.

Although the Pacific Crest Trail in the USA looked attractive, last year I began suffering from a painful knee, a combination of arthritis and an old operation for an injury, not something that would get much better despite the exercises recommended by a physiotherapist. If it deteriorated, swelling up or accumulating excessive fluid, I would have to stop. Flying back from the states would be expensive so I looked to other European Routes. The E2 attracted my attention. Running from Galway to Nice, it passes through Ireland, Britain, the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg, France and Switzerland. Should problems occur, returning to my home in the UK would not be too expensive, and the route covers varied scenery (and different types of food and drink). One possible downside was that the Irish section had not been defined, however there was an obvious route from the intended starting point in Galway, following established National Trails to Belfast, with just a few gaps. From Belfast a ferry could carry me to the British section of E2 which starts in Stranraer. Indeed I saw the lack of an official route for the E2 in Ireland as an opportunity as if the trails I selected were subsequently adopted, I would be among the first to walk it! As with the E4 I plan to walk the E2 in sections of four to six weeks. Although the British section was added in on 15 September 1999, opened by the president of the Long Distance Walkers Association, I suspect few people had walked its entire length. In Europe the E2 largely follows the GR5, an established and popular "Grande Randonnée". The last part of the GR5 between Switzerland and Nice is highly mountainous. With YouTube videos with titles such as "GR5....the trail broke me" I wondered if this section with its large ascents and descents would be too much for my knee. However, that would be a challenge for a few years time, the Irish section did not look too difficult apart from the mud and midges. 

To avoid midges the advice was to walk across Ireland in April, before they were too numerous, so that is exactly my plan. Although Western Ireland is known for its rain, April also has relatively low rainfall compared with other months, and a good amount of sunshine ....on average. My route through Ireland would involve walking along the "Western Way", "Sligo Way", "Miner's Way", "Cavan Way" and the "Ulster Way", with just a few kilometres separating each trail. I will be using my GPS for navigation and managed to find gpx files for each of these trails on the internet, which defined my route. Having also installed an updated map of Great Britain and Ireland on my GPS, I was ready to go.