Everybody needs a break,
Climb a mountain or jump in a lake.
Some head off to exotic places,
Others go to the Galway Races…
‘Lisdoonvarna’
Christy Moore
The Garmin Challenges have ended. I suspect the three of us are secretly pleased. Though credit where it’s due: it had the desired effect of getting us out the door and resulted in all of us having a solid month of training in September. (The challenges started back at the end of July, with quite modest totals). We all passed the 200k total for the month, and for the most part, reached our weekly totals too. And of course, there was a little added spice given that there would be a winner each Monday morning. Now we are in the final countdown to the Abingdon Marathon, which takes place on Sunday 18th October, in Oxford. Gary and I plan to have one final hurrah on Saturday, with a parkrun and a long run combined. It’s the sort of madness that only Gary can pitch, to be fair, and of course, I haven’t the wit to refuse.
I had some holiday time left, so I took this week off. S found a good hotel deal in Westport and we booked there for Monday and Tuesday, and then planned a night with Saoirse’s sister Louise in Barna, in Co. Galway, on Wednesday. We were in The Westport Coast Hotel, and it’s a little bit out of town, but on the plus side, it’s on the quay front near the harbour, with spectacular views of Clew Bay and Croagh Patrick. We had a wander around town in the afternoon, and then a stroll on Monday evening along the quay, as the sun set and the moon rose, and it was quite something. A nice dinner and a few drinks, and then bed.
The following morning we set off for Achill, and the wind had really picked up, with the threat of rain in every gust. Despite this, S braved the elements and had a quick ‘splash and dash’ in the heavy surf on Keem. It is the most beautiful beach in the world. I admit some bias, though Lonely Planet, amongst several others, lists it in its top 25. While I was taking a quick video of this brave foray into the waves, I noticed Gannets diving into the sea. Spectacular.
Once back into the warmth of the car, the arrival of heavy rain put paid to any notions of further outdoor activities, so we found the rather splendid Beehive Coffee Shop on Achill, and had a huge slice of artery-clogging chocolate cake. Then it was back to Westport, and we dined out that night in JJ O’Malley’s. Fab food, and equally splendid hospitality from all the staff. At one point, they put on the All-Ireland final between Mayo and Kerry. I suspect it’s on a loop in many establishments in the county, and why not. A young American customer asked at the bar if the baseball was on, and after a little searching online, we worked out it was probably available on TNT, and within a minute or so, he was delightedly watching his beloved Phillies. Now that’s service!
The following morning, we had an early start. I had a hankering to climb a mountain, so while S enjoyed the delights of the pool, sauna and steam room, I made the brief journey out the coast road towards Murrisk. Here is the traditional starting point for pilgrims who wish to climb Croagh Patrick. And this morning, I was just another pilgrim, paying homage to this marvelous conical lump of quartzite, towering 2,500 feet over Clew Bay and beyond. I had on my trail-running gear; Hoka Speedgoats for the feet, running shorts and top and rain jacket, with a spare rainproof in the hydration pack, and a nice warm hat.
After a brief moment of mystery trying to work out how to pay the car park fee of 3 euro for the day, I set off into a freshening morning. The southerly wind was not anything like as savage as yesterday, but it was still blowing, and for now, the first part of the climb would be in the shadow of the mountain, away from the prevailing wind. Once on the shoulder of the mountain, with the final approach out of sight on the rear flank, I knew it would be a windy affair.
The climb can be roughly broken down into three stages. The first is over rough ground with a rock-strewn path that leads steadily upwards and to the left of the peak. The second stage takes you right along the shoulder and here there are one or two sections where the trail levels out and even dips down slightly. Then the third and final stage, which goes straight to the top. This is marked by a cairn around which true pilgrims are encouraged to walk seven times, saying the rosary, and it’s where most of the recent restorative work has been done. It is truly marvelous how they have transformed this final section. The work was carried out between 2022 and 2024, and was all done by hand with local stone from the mountain itself. It has replaced what were scree slopes that made the final ascent really tricky. I don’t seem to have any decent photos of this ‘stairway of rocks’, but the article does, so check it out.
As I neared the top, I caught up with another climber. His name was Warren, and he was from Manchester. We reached the top together and had a chat. Needless to say, he is a serious trailrunner with many great events under his belt. He set off for the descent while I took a few moments to enjoy the incredible views.
I caught up with Warren about halfway down, and we finished up together. My watch said I managed the up and down in just under one hour and fifty minutes. It may seem slow enough for 7.35km of distance, but that needs to be viewed against 727 metres of ascent. He treated me to an ice cream, and it seemed perfectly normal to be standing at the foot of the mountain in the car park with the wind blowing drizzly rain against our faces whilst chocolate sauce dribbled down our wrists.
We checked out of the hotel around midday and drove down to Barna along the coast road, taking in Louisburgh and the ever-stunning Doo Lough, stopping to marvel how the funnelled wind whipped up sheets of water off the lake and blew them across the surface like whirling dervishes. Then Leenane, with great views of Mweelrea – another mountain I must climb again – and on through Letterfrack and into Clifden. From here we headed south towards Ballyconneely, and I was reliving some of the last stretches of the Connemara 100 race in my head.
Since bottling it at Keem Bay, I decided I had to take the plunge, and there is no better alternative than Dog’s Bay. Despite the gusting wind, it was still warm enough to walk across the strand to the far end of the beach where I stripped off and had a quick dip in the ocean. S took video evidence of this but fortunately my blog account doesn’t allow video posting, so you’re spared this display of public nudity 😉
(In the pics below from Dog’s Bay, there is one of a decaying seal. Not far was another carcass of what was either a dolphin or a porpoise. No idea how they died, but it is not unheard of for fishermen to shoot seals, though of course, this is illegal, not to mention savage behaviour. The seal carcass had several small holes in its side).
We stopped in Roundstone and had a wander on the pier before finding O’Dowds – one of the few places open for business, it seemed. It was, after all, the last day of September, and much of the west will start to slowly shut down over the next few weeks. Not entirely, of course; I just mean the tourist offerings. And it’s also a timely reminder for the local councils to bring in the roads for Winter. 🙂
With a few hours to go before dinner, a toasted sandwich was in order. (Credit where it’s due; the rainbow into the pint was Saoirse’s idea). We continued to hug the coastline, passing through Carna on the way to Louise’s. This is hardcore Connemara. The high peaks of the Twelve Bens and the Maumturks have given way to a flatter, harsher landscape of boulders and shallow lakes amongst sparse bog which seems to merge with the sea. It’s hard to imagine anyone eking out a living here. (Incidentally, Risa, we were a stone’s throw from Snauvbo at one point, and there was no shortage of stones!)
We arrive in Barna and feast on a delicious homemade Guinness stew and end the night in the local pub with a few pints. It’s very much a bilingual area, and it was great to hear three older gents at the bar laughing and conversing as Gaeilge.
We headed home the next morning, after the obligatory fry, and were back by lunchtime. I squeaked out a 5k in the park before dinner to see how the quads and calves were after their strenuous workout yesterday morning. They were still rather tender, so Saturday should be fun! I’ll rest up tomorrow. Rest will include sawing, chopping and stacking a big pile of logs…
(Obviously Christy Moore’s holidaying traveller climbs a mountain and jumps in a lake, whereas I jumped into the sea. As a part-time songwriter, I would just point out that ‘everybody needs a holiday, climb a mountain or jump into the sea at Dog’s Bay’ scans really poorly…)
