I claimed some time ago that I was no summit bagger but having done many of the County Tops whilst completing various circuits, the MountainViews list began to create something of an itch that needed to be scratched. Simon Stewart and his infectious lists!! It became an irresistible challenge for my partner, Martin, and I to complete his County Tops list. On 16th November 2012, on a bitterly cold day with occasional hail showers, we assailed Slieve Beagh, our final summit in County Monaghan. Later that day, on the long journey back to Wicklow, I reflected on scaling the heights (of nonsense some might say) of all 27 summits, completed over 3 years and in all winds and weathers.
After an ice climb of a gully at the back of Glencullin Corrie to the Lugmore Ridge in 2010, the sight of Mweelrea from Ben Bury (pictured) glowering in shafts of broken sunlight, its icy slopes shining like liquid mercury and the purple shapes of myriad islands floating amid rafts of sunshine reflected off the calm Atlantic, brought a sudden and unexpected lump to my throat and tears to my eyes. This vision is forever seared into my memory. With darkness chasing away the last rays of sunlight, there was no time to bag this behemoth on this occasion, so surmounting it on a hot autumn day with exquisite coastal views was unforgettable. A case of carpe diem, we did Lugnaquilla from Glenmalure on snowshoes, summiting in Arctic conditions to a riotous sunset, descending in the light of head torches under a purple sky showered with brilliant stars. Frigid Slieve Donard, clad in diamond dazzling treachery, gave crystal clear views of the icy Isle of Man. On Errigal and Kippure, I strangely felt my mortality as I watched the vermillion orb of the winter sun slip below the western horizon and the full moon rise like a paper lantern. We were tested climbing Sawel in deep snow sans snowshoes (how did we manage to forget them?) and were nearly flattened by gale force winds on a very autumnal Mt Brandon.
Vivaldi’s Gloria captures the sheer euphoria of gaining Benbaun on one of the finest spring days imaginable. I was bemused to see joss sticks burning at the summit of mighty Carrauntoohil. But size isn’t everything. I loved exploring little Slieve na Calliagh’s megalithic tomb and meandering amid the whispering beech trees fringing Mullaghmeen on a warm spring day. Slieve Foye was a steep pull up from sea level, but I shall carry the memory of the views of Carlingford Lough and the Mournes to the ghats! Corn Hill and Cupidstown Hill posed no challenge: tracks led straight to them. Slieve Gullion was quickly scaled from a nearby car park where happily, thieves seem to be a thing of the past!
The prize for a bog trot goes to burst teabag Moylussa, but Trostan and ‘old chalky’ Cuilcagh were worthy runners-up. Seltannasaggart SE Slope was a dull affair unless you’re ‘into’ wind farms; aqueous Arderin (why on earth would someone cart a car battery to the summit?) and Slieve Beagh SE Top, wringing wet affairs. The sight of paragliders atop Mt Leinster was delightful, quad bikers on Knockmealdown was not.
For an edgy experience the Truskmores win hands down, bagged at the fag end of a wet and windy summer’s day. The gate to the RTÉ mast access road declared the site off limits and due to the legendary hostility of the local farmers, we almost ran up the steep and dreary tarmac way, convinced that any moment a shot would signal the prelude to our behinds being peppered with buckshot, put there by an irate local farmer! Truskmore was a deflating experience, trig point marooned within a muddy building site. Truskmore SE Top nearby offered some consolation when the cloud rose revealing fine views of Yeats Country and not a farmer in sight! Most vile climb? Definitely Knockboy. In heavy rain I fell into deep bog, couldn’t get out, lost part of my walking pole and was bitten alive by horseflies! We returned to the car soaked to the gussets and filthy dirty. Then to cap it all, the gauche B&B we stayed at in Bantry had no hot water for a shower!
Finally, high drama on Galtymore. After scrambling up a gully, we arrived at the top to find 2 women, one holding a Tesco’s carrier bag, both ill clad, disoriented and mildly hypothermic, wandering about aimlessly in the dense mist that had suddenly descended. Three of their group were missing and none had coats on. We got them into our emergency bivy and were brewing up hot tea to warm them up as 2 more walkers appeared, panicking about a missing friend. We had no choice but to call in Mountain Rescue. Galtymore was bagged in something of a hurry whilst traversing the top of the mountain trying to locate the missing walkers. Mountain Rescue was stood down 3 hrs later, all casualties safe. Yes, the County Tops have given me many great memories. Some I’d happily climb again, others no way!