The Gap of Dunloe, and Beyond
by Brenda Warner
It was our aim when rough stuff camping, to head off into the mountains in evening, so that we could find a good campsite, and be ready to start in the thick of things, as it were, in the morning.
So with the shadows lengthening we made our way up the Gap of Dunloe as the holidaymakers in pony traps were coming back down. It's a very easy gradient with good scenery. Tomies and Purple Mountain on the left, and the MacGillycuddy's Reeks on the right. It's four miles through the Gap and after the holidaymakers had gone we had it all to ourselves.
Once through we rode on into the now gloomy evening, and started to look for a campsite, only to find that we were in an area of tumbled boulders as far as the eye could see. The track was still rideable but getting more stony. Suddenly in front of us was a little lady going our way; goodness knows where she had come from. She didn't hear us coming, and when I asked her if she knew of a grassy area where we could camp she jumped at least six inches off the ground. She waved her hand around the horizon and said we could camp anywhere. We could still only see rocks and boulders.
After another half a mile or so, I noticed a grass mound the other side of a waterlogged ditch, beside the road. Jack thought that we could just get the tent on it. So I leaped across the ditch and when I landed on the grass the whole area shook like a jelly, it was very nearly afloat.
In the gloom we put the tent up, and while Jack unpacked the essentials I took our water bucket and a mug to search for running water. Leaping the ditch once more I crossed the road to the boulder field. I could hear water under the rocks but couldn't see it. Dipping the mug here and there I found water in the end. Returning to the tent my foot slipped off a boulder, up went the bucket, I sat down, and the water came down on top of me. The repeat performance took another ten minutes. Never had our tent looked so welcoming as when I returned.
We slept well on our water bed and in the morning as a bonus the sun was shining, we rode round the skirts of MacGillycuddy's Reeks, the highest mountain in Ireland. Jack mentioned that St. Patrick had drowned the last snake in Ireland in a lake hereabouts. I said that was a load off my mind, as I didn't want to have to look out for them as well as the spotted slugs, which the guide book said I had to see.
We traveled on down Cummeenduff Glen, an empty tract of land with mixed stone and grass. We then went through a farmyard and saw our first human for some time. The way then took us over their pasture land and we made for the saddle in the hillside in front of us. With not much effort we were on top and stopped to take in the view.
At our feet was a bowl in the mountain, the surface was covered with grass and had large boulders sticking out of it, and the path we had been following until now had completely disappeared. It was like a giant rockery.
While plotting our course Jack's feet slipped from under him and he started down the hillside with his bike faithfully following him. I grabbed his jacket and he got to his feet muttering something about wet grass. We opted for the left hand side of the bowl, and picked our way down. The boulders were even worse near the bottom, but then a lady came to the door of a cottage, which we hadn't noticed before. She shouted and waved us round further to our left, and so we made our exit from the boulders and rode down the grass track to join the tarmac at Maghanlawn.
It was a very interesting jaunt, most of it rideable.
The Gap of Dunloe runs north to south, and is south-west of Killarney.