Crockbrack Mountain to Dungiven: E2 Day 25

A morning climb to the top of Eagle Rocks (Craig-na-shoke) followed by a bog walk, forest tracks, fields and roads.

When I left the tent in the night for a call of nature, beneath me the many tiny lights of towns and villages on the plain twinkled in the dark, it felt as if I was looking down on my kingdom, although not for long as it was too cold to stand around looking, and I quickly cocooned myself back in my tent and sleeping bag. Then as I left my tent this morning, high on the side of Crockbrack Mountain, I looked down on the misty lowlands of Northern Ireland bathed in a pinky glow by the morning sun hidden behind clouds. It looked beautiful to me, but the cold made me hurry on with cleaning my teeth and packing up. 

Morning view from my campsite on the side of Crockbrack mountain.

I slowly warmed up walking down into the village of Moneyneany. Too early for the shop to be open I kept going along the roads until I reached Moydamlaght Forest. There the Ulster Way took me up the mountainside on curling, climbing forest tracks. Above the forest there was a cliff, Eagle Rocks or Craig-na-shoke. The Ulster Way worked its way around it, crossing a stile of an unusual design. It only had one upright each side with blocks nailed to it for steps. Although it looked easy to cross, due to the lack of lateral support, I found myself swinging onto the top of the barbed wire I was crossing. My trousers caught on the barbs and it took me some effort to extricate myself, fortunately with only grazes to my leg, no blood as far as I could see. 

Unusual, single leg stile, more difficult to climb over than it looks.

Something less than a stile, another fence crossing with some protection from the barbed wire.

After scaling the ridge and admiring the scene behind me, trying to spot where I camped last night on the far side of the broad valley, I needed to find my way across the bog. Apparently Ireland has 8% of the world's blanket bog and finding my way across this bit proved difficult. Fortunately I could follow the track on my GPS as there was little evidence of one on the ground. On reaching a fence, with stuff wrapped around the barbed wire to allow a safe crossing, I found that some kind soul had marked out the next section of route over the bog with yellow painted sticks, sometimes with "UW" crudely marked on them. They were a great help, although they led over channels of sodden peat and moss, they did lead me to the remains of a stile into Glenshane Forest. A faint path then lead to a place where religious ceremonies had taken place. There was a small shrine to the Virgin Mother, and a cross marked "The Priest's chair" with coins balanced on the cross bar. Wooden logs had been set out as "pews". I thought it might have been a "Mass rock" where Roman Catholic services were held many years ago when Catholicism was banned, but it all looked too new.

The Ulster Way then took me down a succession of forest roads among the conifers, those still standing and those that had been harvested. Once they have cut the trees down and taken the good timber a lot of wood still seems to remain in jumbled piles. Could it not be used for firewood or pulped for paper? Debating such questions in my mind I somehow transitioned to the reform of the House of Lords before leaving the forest and changing my focus to finding the route over farmland and in particular where to cross a fence. The answer was at a wooden bar that provided slight protection from the barbed wire below. This was at least the third somewhat inadequate fence crossing of the day.

The path among the sheep joined a track, which transitioned into a quiet road that led me to the busy A6. I had been hearing traffic on the A6 for some time as I walked along the other side of the valley and worried that I might be exposed to the risk of a traffic accident on joining it. However, the authorities, no doubt thinking of me, had built a pavement so that I could safely walk into the village of Dungiven.

A cry of "help" interrupted my thoughts of coffee and cake as I headed down the main street. An elderly man was struggling to stay up and his wife needed some extra support. We got him seated on a window sill and I made sure he did not slip off while the lady called for her son. Apparently he had an irregular heart and this was not the first occasion he had lost his strength to stay up. I waited with them until their son arrived telling them about my walk and enquiring about coffee shops. Soon I was in one enjoying two raspberry and white chocolate scones with my latte.

Tonight I am in a glamping hut. Very nice in a blonde, wooden lined, Scandinavian, railway carriage sort of way, but expensive for a single person. In my research it was the only place I could find (apart from a campsite a little way out), but I have now discovered there was one B&B establishment my research missed for some reason. 

More memorials today and a mural celebrating the dead Republican fighters. High walls surrounded the Presbyterian church, actually part of a former police station. I found it depressing.