Collooney to Lough Gill: E2 Day 14

Today was definitely had the best stretch of the Sligo Way; off road, through mountains and by the waters of Lough Gill on good paths.

As I  was unable to find accommodation at Dromahair I was planning to wild camp a little before. It was farmland around the village unsuitable for camping but there was woodland nearer the waters of Lough Gill. To avoid arriving at my planned camping location too early, I left Sligo on the 11:05 train for the short journey to Collooney. From there the Sligo Way took me into Union Wood. So very different from the regimented conifer plantations I had been walking through, this was a mature, mixed, amenity woodland, being enjoyed by a variety of people (including children so I assume the Easter School Holidays have begun in Ireland). Efforts were being made to encourage native species of tree and eliminate aliens such as rhododendron and laurel. As a noticeboard extolled the fine views from Union Rock, I diverted to this summit climbing up on its boardwalk. At the top, from the rounded outcrops of a type of rock called gneiss, there was indeed a panorama to the north and west. To the north I now knew that the "table top" mountain I had seen previously was Benbulbin, its flat top formed by a hard limestone layer. To the west were the Ox Mountains I had recently walked over.

After woodland for a few kilometres the trail entered open moorland, wrapping itself around mountains and exploring valleys. In sheltered places rhododendron had replaced the grass, heather and rushes of the heath. As the path was on the hillside, generous and changing vistas could be seen, now across farmland and villages, later over mountains. Considerable efforts had been made to create a good trail, with a lot of gravel having been laid to avoid the path turning to mud (as it was in patches where gravel was missing, encouraged by the passage of mountain bikes). There was also a bench, placed by a small lake, an excellent spot for lunch. Although overcast, only a few splatters of rain fell, enough to break out the waterproof over trousers but not enough to dampen the day's mood.

Lough Lumman, a lake with a handy bench for eating lunch.

At length, the trail dropped down into woodland, descending into a valley with a busy road running along it. To avoid the traffic for a while the trail shot up a very steep slope to join a minor road which made an equally violent descent to reach the main road, which was then followed for only a short distance. 

Lough Gill.

The highlight of today was the subsequent walk through Slish Wood  and subsequently around the southern shores of Lough Gill. My route was along the side of a steep hillside with the waters of the large lake, lapping on my left, and trees, mainly conifers rising up the mountainside on my right. Nearer the lake there were birch and other species. Signs today said they were ultimately aiming to recreate the oak woodland that once existed here before man's intervention. Towards the latter part of my lakeside ramble, a boardwalk took the Sligo Way over open moorland between the lake and the trees, which had the benefit that waterside trees did not obscure the view over the Lough. Of the several islands one was particularly famous. Where the Sligo Way eventually parted from the lake there was a special spot, a little jetty and an information board referring to the island of Innisfree, visible from this position. Famous as Yeats wrote a poem about it. The poem ends:

I hear the lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;

While I stand on the roadway, or an pavement grey,

I hear it in the deep heart's core.

I am not sure Yeats would have approved of St Angela's college on the opposite side of the lake. While I am sure it does fine work, its architecture does intrude on the bucolic landscape.

Isle of Innisfree viewed from the jetty viewing point.

I was approaching the point where I needed to find a campsite. A sign described some nearby patches of the "People's Millennium Forest", part of a project in which native trees have been planted in woodlands across the country to celebrate entry into the third millennium, one tree for each member of Ireland's population. I diverted into one of these, walking up a little used track (at least by humans, there were plenty of deer hoof prints). Finding a flat, dry area where the track began to fade I pitched my tent. On each side of me, growing among jumbled, green, moss covered boulders, birch trees and a few pines watched over my sleeping place in a kindly, gentle way.