‘I’m told you write.”
“I dabble.”
“What about?”
“Walking mostly”
“Not exactly demanding of talent, then?”
“I guess not.”
“I’m a writer myself.”
“Oh.”
“I write an astrology blog.”
“Then you can tell me if it’s safe to venture onto the Reeks tomorrow.”
“How should I know?”
That’s the problem with astrologers. They never seem to tell us anything really useful.
Our encounter is in Killarney where I've alighted before heading out to complete what is arguably Ireland's finest upland circuit. Sunshine next morning reinforces a reasonably optimistic weather forecast. However, by the time, I set out from Hydro Track car park to complete the famous Coomloughra Circuit, ominous clouds are already tickling the high peaks.
Initially, the going is steep on an unpoetic concrete path, but the Hydro Track eventually swings right, and relents on approach to a lonesome curl of water that is eternally overlooked by Ireland’s most elevated uplands.
Beyond Lough Eighter, I traverse right and upwards to gain the western spur of Caher. Here, it is left for a thigh-burning ascent. Soon, I am shrouded by a sombre world of sweeping mists which allow just occasional glimpses of huge declivities tumbling menacingly to my left.
Approaching Caher West, I am suddenly battered by an egregious mixture of snow and hail driven by what seems gale force winds. Within minutes the mountainside around me has been transformed to a white and treacherous slipway. Sheltering behind a boulder, I consider my options. I don’t fancy a crossing of the saw-tooth Beenkeragh Ridge lying beyond Carrauntoohil, but I don’t want to retrace my steps either.
Reaching into my rucksack I pull out Jim Ryan's guidebook titled, Carrauntoohil and MacGillycuddy's Reeks. He suggests a possible escape from Caher summit via Curraghmore so I press on through the maelstrom. Gaining Caher West, I slither down to a saddle before re-ascending to Caher's main summit. Here, in a strong icy wind it's a struggle to hold the map as I try to fix a compass bearing on Curraghmore.
The ridge to Curraghmore actually proves benign as the weather relents. From Curraghmore (denoted Graighin on some maps) I reverse the directions for walk 17 in Ryan's book and continue down a broad shoulder that becomes a little steeper with some easy scrambling near the base. A sting in the tail is a typical west of Ireland bog that Ryan suggests is best circumvented. Not caring for the extra distance, I squelch through the morass while reflecting ruefully that writing an astrology blog must surely be easier than this.
Gaining the way-markers for the Kerry Way, I go right along the Lack Road – an old trade route that once linked Glencar with Killarney. Reaching a paved surface, it's an easy saunter by the shoreline of Lough Acoose to intersect a public road. A 20-minute ramble then returns me to the Hydro Track carpark.
