The Western Way Ireland, a few comments

The Western Way curves around County Galway and Mayo exploring some remote areas of Western Ireland. 

Splitting the Way into three quite different parts:

From Oughterard to Westport the Western Way is as good as the best long distance walks. It reminded me of the West Highland Way but with less people (and facilities). By lakes, mountains and a fjord this was an adventure in the outdoors. Oughterard, Leenane and Westport have good shops, cafes and accommodation. Divert to Keane's food shop at Maum for a coffee and sandwich.

After the cycle path from Westport to Newport the second part of the walk went up to Ballycastle. Possibly because of the rain, construction works and the busy N59 road section I liked this part least. However as it runs through forests remote from villages or facilities, it is an "experience". 

The final third from Ballycastle is mainly on quiet roads. In compensation it does give access to facilities at Killala, Ballina and Ballycastle for food and accommodation. An easy walk visiting a few sights: a beach, a tower, a stately home on the immediate route.

In general the Western Way is well waymarked with black posts with an image of a yellow person with a backpack and walking stick bent forward (like me). However in places these are missing for quite long sections so a map, paper or digital, is needed, ideally with a GPS and/or a smartphone to tell you where you are. The trail appears to be well maintained with for example sections of rotted boardwalk being replaced.

I found it difficult to avoid wild camping as accommodation is absent on some long sections. Although of questionable legality it seems generally accepted. I walked the route in April, when it could be cold at night, however I did not have the issues with midges that others report later in the year.

Update 21 March 20223: A new guide has been written on the Western Way in German, "Wanderführer Irland: Western Way – Fernwanderweg" by Sebastian Steude. Available from this link. 

Ballina to start of Sligo Way: E2 Day 11

Today I finished the Western Way and began my trek through the Ox Mountains on the Sligo Way.

Knowing I would be wild camping for the next few nights with no shops or cafés on my way I had stoked up on food, eating a large diner last night and a substantial breakfast this morning. This made me feel stodgy this morning and unable to contemplate eating for a long time. Breakfast did however have a bit of drama when the man in charge of the coach party, who had been staying there a week, presented the staff with a box of something. He pretended it was very heavy. Made me wonder what was in it.

As I closed the door of the hotel behind me the skies released a sudden, heavy shower of hailstones. But by the time I had clumsily struggled into my waterproof trousers the hail had all but ceased! There were a few short hailstorms during the day, and one snow flurry, but by complete contrast, also warm, sunny periods and largely blue skies, so I was not dissatisfied. 

My walk began at around 10:30 am. I wanted to start late as otherwise I would walk for too long, distressing my knees and feet, as I do not like to pitch my tent too early, before about 5:00 pm, as it may attract undesirable attention. However at 10:15 am the chambermaid walked in to try and make the room ready for the next guest, so I thought I better leave. 

Much of the day was spent weaving about on quiet, narrow lanes through agricultural areas. I was relying on my GPS to guide me as initially there were no waymarks. The little, yellow, walking person motif did appear on posts later, when the route began to become more interesting, climbing into the foothills of the Ox Mountains, revealing a view back to the snow capped Nephin Mountain and the associated range. Not a very direct route but it avoided the main road and brought me to a track that ran along the side of the mountains. 

Road to the Ox Mountains.

Snow flurry in the foothills of the Ox Mountains.

The last part of the Western Way was on a straight track, up and down low hills, probably the old road as the current road ran close by, picking easier gradients and weaving in and out as a result. After the entrance to a wind farm, emblazoned with the usual "go away" signs, the track deteriorated. Beyond this point it was more a path, waterlogged in places, the moss holding the water ready to soak my feet if I placed them in an ill judged location. I had put a dressing on my right heel where a blister was starting to form and I was hoping it would not get wet and turn into a soggy mess. My boots are meant to be waterproof and do hold out water for a while...and then give up and let it seep in! To avoid such an event I was trying to step on the roots of dead heather bushes and rushes, avoiding the bright green moss hiding beneath the bleached, needle leaved grass, as well as more obvious pools of water. Fortunately as the very end of the Western Way approached the path improved, long ago it had been built up above the surrounding bog. The scenery had been improving for some time. In the morning the roads were in farmland, but now I was walking up a broad valley, leading to a pass through the Ox Mountains, surrounded by moorland with areas of conifer plantations.

Pass through the Ox Mountains.

The end (or the start if you were facing the other direction) of the Western Way was marked by a notice set in a square of cemented stones. Very little could read on the sign as it had faded, or the words had peeled off, leaving fragments of text still visible at the edges.

I now had a kilometre or so of road walking, dodging cars, to reach Lough Talt and the start of the Sligo Way, my next Long Distance Path. The Sligo Way was announced by a legible sign, only slightly faded. After admiring the view of the lake (annoyed that telegraph wires prevented a clear photo) I walked up the road following the Sligo Way, marked by the same yellow person as the Western Way, until the tarmac road changed to a gravel track. Surrounded by plantations of closely spaced conifers and boggy areas, both behind barbed wire for much of the time, I pitched my tent on a small patch of grass between where the track curved right and the fences met a right angles. I cannot imagine anyone will be bothered with me camping here, and I was not expecting anyone to come by on such a quiet, out-of-the-way track but once settled in my tent two cars went by (or possibly the same farmer going each way to check on sheep) but nobody stopped. 

Killala to Ballina: E2 Day 10

A day on quiet roads and through Belleek woods and castle.

I left my B&B this morning at a disgracefully late 11:00 am, but I only had 9.5 kilometres to walk (I made a mistake somewhere as it was actually 14.5 kilometres, and my GPS showed that with various detours I walked 20 kilometres, and there was I thinking this would be almost a rest day). Before departing Killala I visited the unusual round, needle shaped tower, standing alone unconnected to anything else. Dating from maybe the 12th century a number exist across Ireland although their purpose is not known for sure. Looked like a watch tower to me.

Round tower at Killala.

Leaving the village I turned left on the road indicated by my GPS (and on my OutdoorActive App), however the expected sign or waymark was missing. There were signs for a Greenway. I reasoned that if I was deciding on the route of the Western Way I would follow a new Greenway rather than a road. Retracing my steps I left the main road at a Greenway sign. The new gravel track, neatly fenced, briefly joined the path of an old railway line, then meandered a bit between reeds and fields. A heron took to the air from a small lake as I walked by. There were a few black posts of the type used to mark the Western Way (made of recycled plastic at a guess), they were lacking any icons or direction arrows which were presumably to be attached later.

Bridge on Greenway, which was here following an old, abandoned railway line

Eventually the Greenway re-joined the small road indicated as the Western Way on my GPS, and confirmed by a later waymark. With a series of long straight sections, the road was also the route of Eurovelo 1, a long distance cycle path that runs from the top of Norway to the bottom of Portugal broadly following the Atlantic coast.

Eurovelo 1 left the road to run through Belleek Woods and I followed it for an enjoyable stroll among the trees. Several interesting sites caught my attention including a section of the Famine Wall, built to provide employment and food during the potato famine. Graves to dogs included "Phizzie" buried close to his master Charles Knox-Gore, they both died in 1890, Valhalla (inscription "Born in my hands, Died in my arms") and a memorial to all the Dorans family dogs ("Until one has loved an animal part of ones soul remains unawakened"). Belleek Castle had a café, so I stopped for a coffee and a scone (with jam and cream of course). On the side of the River Moy there an abandoned ship, the "Creteboom". Unusual as it was built of concrete in the First World War because of the shortage of steel. Nearby, only the ribs remained of a wooden ship.

Belleek Castle.

Arriving at Bellina I enquired about accommodation on the Sligo Way, the next stretch of my walk, at the Tourist Information Office. The ladies tried to be helpful but there seems little available on the route of this long distance path. In addition many places may not have reopened after Covid.

I stocked up with food as I was expecting a few days wild camping after tonight, then checked into a hotel. Checking my route today I noticed the Western Way website reports that the trail from Letterkeen and the Nephin Wilderness to the end of the trail near Bunnyconnellan was "closed until further notice", an entry I had not seen in my research before the trip. One assumes due to the road construction I had passed in the Sheskin forest or else planned tree felling. A rather lazy notice I thought as it gave no indication of when the trail might reopen, no alternative route, and as the section from Ballycastle onwards is on roads or similar there seemed little reason to close this part. Appears like an easy decision by some bureaucrat, I am glad I was not aware of it.

The forecast for tomorrow does not look to good, hail and cold temperatures, and the mountain of Nephin to the south looks like its summit is already covered in snow...or maybe it is a play of light..

My evening finished at the hotel with an after dinner singer getting the audience (a tour bus party) to sing along with "Sweet Caroline" and other favourites.

River Moy at Bellina.

Sheskin Forest to Killala: E2 Day 9

After leaving the Sheskin Forest it was minor roads all the way from Ballycastle to Killala.

After a night of intermittent rain and gusts of wind battering my tent I woke to find I was generally warm and dry except for a disturbing pool of water on one side of the groundsheet. I thought it was either the tent or the plastic "Platypus" bag for my spare water that was leaking. My tent had a silly pole cover that was designed to prevent leakage through the main seam and the wind had broken the stitching holding it on one side, however I was not sure if this was enough to cause the leak. Investigations continue. (My later testing showed that the Platypus bag did not leak).

Several kilometres remained to be walked to reach the village of Ballycastle where I knew there was a coffee shop. So dreaming of coffee and cake I followed the forest track between the pines. A "No Trespassing" sign suggested I should not have been in the forest. Not sure who cares, a car passed last night but did not stop by my tent. 

After a final crest, the open countryside was spread out before me. White wave crests marked the edge of an inlet of the sea and as I progressed the houses of Ballycastle appeared, shades of grey in the drizzly morning light. Sunlight briefly lit a hillside beyond illuminating the pattern of green fields.

First sight of the sea north of Ballycastle, with some nice cloud effects, reminding me of some artist or other.

Disappointment! The coffee shop would not open for more than an hour. I walked up the slope of the main street. At the top a shop was open. Tentatively stepping inside I inquired if they had a coffee machine. They did! So I bought a coffee and a sausage and black pudding roll. While the roll was prepared the shop keeper warned me that a storm was forecast for today. I sat on a bench outside, glad my waterproof trousers protected me from its wetness. As I bit into my roll the rain began again. A rather rushed breakfast followed so I did not really savour my first coffee for two days.

For the remainder of the day rain periodically assaulted me, driven against my waterproofs by erratic gusts of wind, some strong enough to push me off my stride. I felt fortunate that the wind was from the west so it was either behind or on one side of me. But there were also sunny periods with areas of blue sky, once I even put my sun glasses on (briefly).

From Ballycastle I followed roads, many narrow quiet ones, often with grass growing down the centre, guided by Western Way posts where the yellow had faded. Around me the farmland was sheep and cow pasture. In the south the mountain of Nephin was prominent.

Quiet, and rather straight, roads after Ballycastle.

I had been reading a book on Irish history. A story so full of brutal wars, battles, massacres, famine and emigration it made me surprised that there were any Irish left! The occasional ruined houses I passed today seemed to show that people had left the area, although this was balanced by houses that looked new (two next to ivy clad ruins of earlier cottages). Two of the ruined buildings were in graveyards, I was sure there must be some story behind that. After the Vikings most of the wars seemed to be caused by England seeking to dominate Ireland however the French were not above taking part. On the roadside a memorial was dedicated to the first French soldier who died in 1799. (Later on my walk I read a book on more recent Irish history. In the decades following home rule in 1922 I was amazed that so many Irish people decided to emigrate, by 1961, an incredible 45 percent of those born between 1931 and 1936 had emigrated and 40% of those born between 1936 and 1941. Throwing off the British yoke of oppression does not appear to have brought fun and prosperity, at least not until Mary Robinson and joining the EU).

Abandoned house, one of many.

Red and green flags and bunting were adorning many houses and buildings. They were the colours of County Mayo. Apparently there was some big football match. Mayo lost.

My feet were hurting with approaching blisters as I arrived at Killala where I at last found a coffee shop where I indulged in a late lunch before checking into my B&B. This involved a little difficulty. The owner was not in and his voicemail advised ringing another number. So I had to dig out a pen and paper from deep in my rucksack to write it down while being battered by a freezing squall of rain. Safely in I could dry things out. This evening was a meal in a nearby bar, black pudding salad for starters. A lot of local people were there who all seemed to know each other, one was celebrating a birthday, she was either 41 or 51, it was not determined.

A really wicked squall of rain caught me walking back to my B&B. I was glad I was not in my tent.

Nephin Wilderness to Sheskin Forest North: E2 Day 8

A wet day on some busy roads in the morning then deep into the Sheskin forest, far from any home comforts.

Looking out from the shelter from the warmth of my sleeping bag, munching on a breakfast of cheese and pitta bread, I could see an overcast sky above the pine trees opposite, rather than the pink of dawn I had enjoyed on earlier mornings. Rain was forecast but I made a few kilometres along forest tracks before it began to drizzle. Leaving the forest by a sign still saying the fire risk of the wet trees was orange and no camping was allowed, I joined the "Bog road" across the heath which stretched for miles towards far away wind turbines. At first sight the bog looked all the same, a flat, wet area of light brown vegetation. However I soon realised it was not completely flat, the road gently rose and fell. The vegetation varied from heather to rushes to bleached grass. Occasionally a few sheep collected together, a little disconsolate in the drizzle. Straight, low banks were evidence of past peat cutting. Peat was still being used as a fuel, earlier in my walk I had seen stacks of peat "bricks" drying beneath plastic sheets. I also saw long parallel "sausages" of peat, presumably dug out by a machine. At Bellacorick, a collection of a few empty houses and a long closed bar, there was once a peat burning power station. Now wind turbines, slowly turning nearby, generate the power, preserving the peat bog, which apparently stores large amounts of carbon. So by saving the bog, less carbon dioxide is released to the atmosphere and so less global warming. Bellacorick's other claim to fame is the "Musical Bridge". With the roar of the traffic (I was now on the busy N59 road) it did not sound musical to me, however a later sign told me I should have run along, dragging a stone along the parapet to make the bridge play a few musical notes. YouTube has some demonstrations of the phenomena. 

Bog road north of Nephin Wilderness on a damp day.

Walking along the N59 road for a few kilometres was an unpleasant experience. I jumped onto the uneven verge as lorries went by but the blast of air from their slipstream was a bit unnerving, as were the fast cars racing by.

Leaving the N59 I followed a track into forestry. Two lorries were driving up and down taking road stone for construction works further up the track. The ground shuddered as they went by with their heavy loads. Reaching the point where they were renewing or strengthening the gravel road my progress was prevented by a pair of JCB diggers, sweeping their hydraulic arms back and fore, distributing the road stone delivered by the lorries. Fortunately, on spotting me they briefly stopped work so I could safely pass by. Good men. There were road signs saying "Hard Hats must be worn" and "No Unauthorised entry" immediately before the work site but in order to follow the Western Way, and avoid retracing a lot of steps, I had no choice but to walk through the construction zone. I did not stop at the site office after the JCBs (with "Visitors must report to the site office" signs) in case they told me that I should not be there, which would place me in an awkward position. So I hurried on and soon I was up the road out of sight. For the rest of the day, maybe for 20 kilometres of forest, I saw only one car, and it did not stop, the driver just waved. Instead I spotted a group of four deer, who on seeing me headed off, leaping over the detritus of tree felling operations. Areas where trees had been harvested looked devastated. Branches, roots and trunks too small to be commercial were piled up in untidy jumbled heaps that spread over many acres.

Devastation that is left after harvesting the trees.

In the middle of the forest the Western Way followed a boardwalk for a few kilometres rather than a gravel road. The rain had made the wooden planks slippery and I took care to make sure my boots engaged with the  "u" shaped nails hammered into the wood. Towards the end of the day rain and drizzle had been falling for many hours, the gusting wind pelting me with rain drops. Water was slowly seeping through gaps in my waterproofs and exploiting the times when I reached for my camera or dug into my rucksack for an "Oatie" biscuit. Having covered almost 40 kilometres by 4:30 pm it was time to stop. Camping spots were almost non-existent, the trees were too close, or the ground too uneven as well as being behind barbed wire. In the end I chose an old "pull in" just off the track. No longer used the grass had grown over it. The rain had briefly stopped but furious gusts of wind made pitching difficult, hopefully my tent will stay up overnight.

Forestry track in the rain.

Newport to Nephin Wilderness: E2 Day 7

A day of rain and drizzle as I walked up roads and tracks to the start of the Nephin Wilderness, the route then became more difficult. 

Breakfast was not until 9:30 am at my B&B, so my departure was a rather late 10:15 am. It appears one resident could not wait this long and set off the burglar alarm trying to leave.

For the first 12 kilometres or so, the route was on a single lane road with little traffic, with excursions on tracks across sheep pasture. It drizzled or rained most of the time, but I was enjoying the scenery. Large lakes provided a view to my left until the route took me through a valley between substantial mountains. By the roadside last year's bracken was a chestnut brown, while the grass was a bleached yellow. The heather was brown with tints of green and in patches, still in flower! Clumps of reeds were shaded from green to reddish brown up their needle like stems. The wet weather had warmed up the colours. There was even a patch a white bluebells. 

Road to the Nephin "Wilderness".

On the boundary of the Nephin Wilderness a sign warned me that there was an Orange Fire risk and no camping was allowed, which could make finding a place to camp tonight difficult. A little further on was a car park, bothy, some picnic tables and a few people, one of them by a Park Rangers van. As it was raining I ate my lunch in the bothy. Although very clean there were no chairs or benches to sit on, so I made do with the edge of the fireplace. 

A notice said a one way system was in effect on the area's paths due to Covid, which would mean a longer walk around the "Red Loop" to join up with the Western Way further north. At the time I just accepted that I would follow these instructions, and started following the arrows that marked the start of the one-way system. I assumed without investigating that these loops were like others I had come across, easy walks for people with cars, not used to much hiking. I was wrong. I should have read all the details on the notices. The loops were long and over uneven ground. Large and small stones, boggy peat and overflowing streams made for difficult walking. It reminded me of the conditions that caused me to interrupt my walk to John o'Groats last year due to the damage they did to my knee. Proceeding cautiously by a river (which I would have admired if I was not trying to avoid slipping on stones) then across open hillside, making full use of my trekking poles for balance on wet rocks, and probing the peat ahead of me to see how soft it was, I made slow progress. Thankfully there were two bridges over the larger water courses, swollen by the day's rain. My first milestone was when the "Blue Loop" left the "Red Loop", a sign of progress. I was particularly happy when the "Red Loop" left the "Purple Loop", as the trail immediately improved. On entering the trees, first there was a boardwalk and then a forest track, and better still, they were now heading in the right direction. After a final climb down over outcrops of rock I joined the Western Way on a forest track heading north. Possibly I should have ignored the one way system and just followed the route of the Western Way from the car park.

Maumarratta in full spate, the stony path visible on is left.

Although called a "Wilderness" the area looked a lot like a commercial conifer plantation but with a lot more rules. One of the rules was that you should register to walk in it, but I could not get an internet signal so I ignored that one. Maybe they will make it more of a wilderness in time. This was not as easy as it might appear, pine saplings from the commercial trees were springing up in vacant land. Near my entrance to the "wilderness" there were extensive areas of rhododendron, not a native Irish plant but an invasive shrub that can easily spread if left to go "wild". 

Around 5:00 pm I reached the Altnabrochy shelter. An open fronted shelter, maybe similar to ones I had read about on the Appalachian Trail. Camping is permitted at the shelter if the fire risk is "Green", i.e. low. After all the rain today I was finding it hard to believe that it was anything other than low. Fortunately I now had a signal on my mobile. The Nephin Wilderness website fire risk had been changed from Orange to Green so I immediately registered for camping in the shelter obeying all the rules. I believe the emphasis on prohibiting camping when there is an elevated fire risk is wrong. Camping by itself does not cause fires. Fires, BBQs, cigarettes and to a lesser extent stoves cause fires, and these can be associated with people out for a walk, not camping, preventing such things should be the focus. When I camp I never light fires, do not smoke and do not carry a stove. I am not a fire risk. I was surprised that there was a fire pit at the shelter, as this can only encourage undesirable behaviour.

Altnabrochy shelter, you sleep on the wooden platform, note the fire pit in front.

I decided to just lay out my sleeping bag in the shelter as it was surrounded by hard core unsuitable for pitching my tent on. Evidently it was used by people with vehicles. A log book showed it had regular visitors, which generally seemed more impressed by the wilderness than myself, spotting interesting birds and deer. Maybe I just picked a bad day!

Camping spot to Westport and Newport: E2 Day 6

A day of three parts: a walk on remote tracks and roads; the environs of Westport, and the Greenway to Newport.

When I answered a call of nature at 2:30 am, frost was already sparkling in my torch light on the flysheet. My expectation, based on my research, was that the temperature would not drop below 5 deg C. I was somewhat out, maybe due to the clear night skies, dotted with stars. In the far distance a few orange lights wavered by some cottages I had spotted earlier.

There was plenty of frost as I set off a little before 7 am, the dawn hiding the stars but the sun not yet above the horizon. A mist had gathered over the three lakes at the base of the hill, below my camp site, making it look like they were steaming cauldrons. My path into the forestry, when I found it, led me down towards Lough Nacorra just as the orange sun was peeping over the distant hills, colouring the top of the blanket of mist, spread over the lake, a shade of pink. An indescribably beautiful sight, one of those that a long distance walk gives you, but which you cannot predict or plan for.

Dawn over Lough Nacorra.

The trail continued on forest tracks through trees in more mundane scenery, although accompanied by a powerful dawn chorus from the birds, eventually joining a little used road. Above me stood the mountain of Croagh Patrick with its stony mantle and church on top. A place of pilgrimage, for a while I shared my route with a religiously inspired trail to the top. Crossing over a ridge an extensive area of low, uneven land spread beneath me, the sea making an irregular incursion around islands and peninsula, and beyond that, the next range of mountains rose to challenge me.

Looking down towards Westport Bay.

Walking down quiet lanes I saw a flock of sheep enter a garden and start cropping the lawn. An eager sheep dog followed, and with cries of "cum by" and the like from the trailing shepherd, the collie soon had the flock heading up the lane. Soon after I passed an older gentleman with his dog, cutting back brambles straying onto the lane. I complimented him on his efforts to avoid people being snagged by these viscous shrubs, and he complimented me on my fitness in walking the Western Way. 

With contented thoughts and buoyed up by a coffee and banana from a petrol station, I followed the coast road by bays of still water, faithfully reflecting nearby trees and houses. I was now being joined by Sunday morning joggers and a few cyclists. My last stretch before the town of Westport was on a "Greenway". An old railway line, long abandoned, now tarmaced for the use of pedestrians and cyclists, and if the signs were to believed, many types of wild flowers later in the season and birds. Indeed a wren gave me a brief song before flying off.

A bay before Westport.

The main streets of Westport were full of small shops. Several shops had signs encouraging "Charlie" in his climb. Charlie Bird was a well known broadcaster with Irish television. He has been diagnosed with motor neurone disease for which there is no cure. Yesterday he led a climb up Croagh Patrick with many others raising an amazing two million Euros for a motor neurone disease and mental health charity. 

I was hoping for a café but thought they would be closed as it was a Sunday. I was wrong, a number were open and overflowing with people. Having selected one that looked slightly less busy, and, becoming frustrated by the three girls in front of the queue, who were having great deliberations as to what to eat, inquiring as to what the vegetarian rashers were made of etc., I avoided a long wait for my food by offering to have a breakfast roll that had been made incorrectly for someone else and had just been returned. Picking it up straight after paying, the lad serving my pot of tea said in a lovely Irish lilt that I had achieved the fastest service anyone would ever get in the café.

Leaving Westport I knew I had to follow the Greenway north, but I was confused. Initially the signs went west and then to the east, and they were Greenway signs not ones for the Western Way. After peering at the internet on my phone for a while I realised that in just a few more yards it would turn west again before settling down in a northward direction. Much of the Greenway to Newport ran beside the busy road and so not especially green, but it made for fast walking through farmland with no risk of a lorry running me over. Some cows gathered to stare at me (on the other side of the Greenway to the road), so I told them to get back to work making Kerrygold (Irish butter). Then I realised they were bulls. Fortunately no-one heard me addressing them.

"Greenway" to Newport.

Arriving at Newport, the blue and yellow flags of Ukraine was on display as well as those of Ireland, evidence of the widespread support for the country bravely fighting the much larger invading Russian Army. My landlord that evening told me that 20 refugee families were staying at B&Bs in the area, while looking for more permanent accommodation. I expressed the hope that the war would soon be over and they could return home, but he said they would have no homes to return to.

As I was settling into my room at an inn, a drizzle began to fall.

Leenane to camping spot: E2 Day 5

A cheerful walk in the mountains on a day of showers with sunny spells.

Thankfully my runny nose was not running quite so fast today, so I had a relaxed breakfast with a view over Killary harbour from my B&B window without sniffing every few moments. Due to reading about the latest from Ukraine on my phone I lingered over coffee and so had a late start (for me) at 9:45 am. My largely self inflicted hardships on this walk seemed so trivial compared with those being suffered by the people of Ukraine, and I cannot imagine the Russian Army conscripts are too happy either in this war, not of their choosing. 

Killary Harbour, a long length of water, was like most features today, the product of the ice ages, carved out by a large glacier. I had also seen mounds of glacial moraine on this walk, debris dropped by the ice as it eventually melted, and I suspect the rather randomly distributed lakes (or loughs) were also ice age related. I mused on this as I followed the busy road around the waters edge. The landscape reminded me of Scotland, even the single storied white houses with gable ends at the base of the hillside reminded me of where I once lived in Aberdeenshire.

According to the GPS track I had downloaded, the Western Way continued up the road at the top of the waters of the fjord. Thankfully it was out of date and the trail now followed the east bank of the Erriff River. The path clung to the river's meanders at the edge of fields of sheep. Each side of me, mountains rose up, at times their summits hidden in rain clouds. There were to be a showers throughout the day of varying length, suddenly starting (interrupting my lunch on one occasion) and suddenly stopping. 

Leaving the river, a forestry track wound around trees of lodgepole pine (according to a sign) leading to a narrow road. This climbed over moorland to a high pass before descending the other side, clinging to the hillside as it gradually lost height. Ahead of me, a line of mountains placed a barrier before me. Two alternatives existed, both marked as the Western Way: climb over the ridge before me on pathless terrain, or continue on the road. As I was surrounded by mountains, periodically displaying their allure as blankets of sunlight spread across them, I was eager to try the climb, especially as today already had a few stretches of road. Further damage to my knee was the risk, a misstep earlier on the road gave a brief shooting pain, reminding me that continued walking could not be assumed. However the hillside was surprisingly dry and the ground predictable, with no hidden holes or channels. The risk could be managed, with my trekking poles for support, so I began my climb. I followed the regular waymarking posts, walking from one to the next, always looking ahead for the next one, consulting the track on my GPS when I could not spot it. These led through a "hanging valley", another feature of glaciation where a small glacier creates a valley high up on the side of a deeper valley created by a much larger glacier. Although the climb was not so hard, my trekking poles helping, it was the descents my knees really disliked, and the descent down the other side of the ridge line was steep. Below me a lake nestled at the base of a semi-circular "cwm" (a bowl shaped feature created by a small glacier). To climb down I lent on my trekking poles, placing them in front of me so that they took most of my weight as I stepped down the back wall of the cwm, saving my knees. The views were superb. Ahead of me was the holy mountain of Croagh Patrick, its upper half was exposed grey stone. When I was closer I could see the white church on its summit, another place visited by St Patrick. 

Looking down on Lugacolliwee Lough from the mountain pass with extensive views beyond.

Ahead the mountain of Croagh Patrick, the white chapel just visible at the summit.

Returning to the road, I followed it for a few kilometres before the Western Way turned off east onto pathless moorland. Having achieved my desired distance and with the time past 5:00 pm I spotted a reasonably flat, dry patch on which I pitched my tent. Some distance below me three lakes are scenically arranged, reflecting the evening sun. Unseen birds twitter and call in the nearby forest. Another day's hike is complete. 

Three lakes visible from my camping spot, starting from the closest: Lough Beg, Lough Ougther and Lough Gull.

Mám Éan to Leenane: E2 Day 4

Majestic views of mountains and a fjord today.

Path up to Mám Éan pass.

Dawn put on a stunning performance, pink beneath a layer of clouds, heralding another sunny day. My journey began with a climb up between high mountains to the pass of Mám Éan (Pass of the Bird). The guidebook reported that Mám comes from a Latin word meaning breast. A pass being like a lady's cleavage. Nestled on one side of the pass was a small chapel, the stations of the cross and what may be an outdoor alter. They are here as St Patrick once camped out here, like me but in 441 AD, and blessed all the lands below him. As I could see for a long way to the west, down to the distant blue sea, the blessed lands must have been quite extensive. 

St Patrick's Chapel and statue.

I continued down to a road, empty of traffic except for a minibus on the school run. The road followed a wide valley, mountains rising each side, the rock outcrops on the mountain sides smoothed by glaciers in the last ice age. It reminded me of Scotland and parts of the West Highland Way, but with fewer people. The only person I saw walking the road was a shepherd and his collie, rounding up a stray sheep. We agreed it was a fine day, cold but sunny and dry. I was frequently adjusting my clothing as in the sun I was hot so took off my jacket, then a cloud cast a shadow or a wind blew up and the bitter cold forced me to put it back on. But as I agreed with the shepherd, far better than rain.

Easy walking on a quiet road walk with Maumturk mountains to the right and Twelve Bens to the left.

In time the Western Way left the road and followed a track. A notice warned me that no dogs were allowed and if one was spotted it would not be just shot, but "Shot Dead, No Exceptions" (a pity about the sheep dogs I thought). Fortunately I had no dog with me and continued across the rough moorland on a good track, by the ruins of an abandoned settlement, and on into commercial forestry.

Beyond the forest plantation the track continued around the hillside such that I could look down on the waters of Killary Harbour, a long fjord with mountains rising up each side, clothed with close cropped grass and low rock outcrops. Lines of something were in the harbour's waters, possibly a mussel farm. Finally I sighted the white buildings of Leenane ahead of me (or was it Leenaun)? Soon I was sitting down to coffee and an excellent frangipane cake at the Purple Café. I ate outside as my nose had been running constantly all morning (or so it felt), I thought the people inside would not appreciate my sniffs and use of my now damp handkerchief. Then I pondered whether to visit the wool museum (which I decided against, it looked more like a place for tour buses) and went instead in search of a shower at my B&B.

Killary Harbour, an inlet of the sea.

For an evening meal I patronised the nearest bar cum shop. Although it did not look upmarket the goats cheese phyllo package, with a beetroot sauce, candied walnuts and leaves was good, and I of course had to sample the mussels grown in the local waters.

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.