Mizen Mountains 6 – Derrylahard East

The peak of Derrylahard East is perplexing. It’s on a continuation of the Eastern Mizen Ridge that runs from just west of Mount Corrin (which we visited exactly a year ago), takes in Letterlickey Cairn (ditto) and peters out close to the wind farm at Ballybane West (which we explored last October). At its highest point it overlooks Glanlough (from the Irish Gleann Locha – ‘Glen’ or ‘Meadow’ of the lake). We must not be confused or misled by another Glanlough nearby – on the Sheep’s Head peninsula, nor yet another in Co Kerry.

On the map above I have indicated Glanlough, which is central to our most recent peregrination. It is a mountain lake which has been virtually hidden over the last decades by thick commercial pine forests. Very recently, much of the forest has been felled, and views from the top of the ridge are now revealed: they are magnificent and far-reaching. In fact, from the high point we found we could see the 12 arched bridge at Ballydehob – which means. of course, that we can also see Derrylahard East from our own village.

The upper picture was taken from the Derrylahard East Peak with a lens stretched well beyond its limit, but you can see the 12 arched bridge and the sandboat quay house just below the centre of the view: Cape Clear is on the horizon. The lower picture was taken a while ago from the 12 arched bridge in Ballydehob, looking north towards the Derrylahard East Peak, which is swathed in cloud to the left of the rainbow.

We started the walk at the western end of the loop: we accessed it from a road that runs through the forestry from Barnageehy down to Durrus. As we gained the higher ground we could see the ridge path that would lead west through to Mount Corrin – currently closed due to storm damage. We turned uphill and kept close to the townland boundary. Below – Finola is correctly negotiating the stile by going backwards down the steps!

We followed the Sheep’s Head Barnageehy Loop Walk in an anti clockwise direction, circling the lake of Glanlough and looking out for the summit, which is known as Derrylahard East Peak, even though it appears to be within the townland of Glanlough. According to the 6″ OS map, which dates from the 1840s, there was once a trig point at this summit: a height of 990ft – 302 metres.

At the peak: Finola looking back towards Gabriel – always dominating the landscapes in West Cork – with the islands and ocean in the distance; Dunmanus Bay and the Sheep’s Head to the west, with the Beara Peninsula visible beyond; the view east encompassing the Ballybane West turbines and Mount Kidd.

Upper map: the 1904 OS showing Glanlough lake in context with the wider topography of West Cork. Above – the Down Survey, made between 1656 and 1658: this section covers the area shown in the OS above it, and is at a comparable scale. The red asterisk shows the position of the lake at Glanlough: I had hoped there might be some notation on the Down Survey that would give some insight into the name of Glanlough, but the old map is fascinating for the fact that very few of the names are familiar to us and barely a scattering of them can be easily equated with place names today.

I said at the outset that the peak of Derrylahard East is perplexing. For one thing, it is clearly in the townland of Glanlough, yet bears the name of the neighbouring townland. Then there is the altitude of the summit: mountainviews.ie shows two figures for the height above sea level: 301m (which I would – almost – agree with), but also the figure of 353.9m, which must be a mistake. Unless, of course, there is something preternatural in this small patch of West Cork territory: I’m thinking of the legend of the ‘floating’ islands in the lake on Mount Gabriel. According to John Abraham Jagoe, Vicar of Cape Clear – from the Church of Ireland Magazine 1826 – they float about up and down, east and north and south; but every Lady-day they come floating to the western point, and there they lie fixed under the crag that holds the track of the Angel’s foot…’ Perhaps our peak fluctuates at will to confuse us? The shape of the summit is also intriguing: we sensed there are traces of a circular platform and a number of loosely scattered stones – could there have been a megalithic structure here?

The views from this peak would justify it being marked out as a special site, and we could expect to find some stories recorded in the folklore archives, but no: the Duchas Schools Collections reveals nothing of the peak, the lake, nor the townland.

As we descended the track we were grateful that the recent forestry removal has opened up the extensive views to the south, over Roaringwater Bay, but we are also reminded of the devastation that this type of monoculture creates. The scarring of the landscape will last for years, until eventually covered by further spruce planting: then the views will vanish again.

As we left behind the havoc of the ravaged hillsides it was good to find some pastoral prospects, reminding us that West Cork always has unfolding delights and juxtapositions, wherever we wander.

Previous posts in this series:

Knockaphuca, Corrin, Letterlicky Cairn, Lisheennacreagh, Knockatassonig

Aiming High!

There seems to be a thread going through our recent posts: my Mizen Mountains and Signal Tower projects take us to high places, and today Finola reports on her exploration of hilltop crosses dating from the 1950 Holy Year. Our travels have brought us to many peaks and pinnacles in and beyond West Cork. I must say there’s nowhere I would rather be than far away from the crowds up on an Irish eminence which – without fail – provides us with the most spectacular views across the topography of this greenest of all lands.

After lockdown restrictions were eased, we made a little trip up to County Wicklow to see family and friends, and took full advantage of the many trails that cross the granite outcrops between Bray and Greystones. The header picture looks south-west from Bray Head towards the Great Sugar Loaf, part of the Wicklow mountain range which, at 501 metres, is significantly higher than our own Mount Gabriel in West Cork at 404m, but which nevertheless provides this view (above) towards the coast of Roaringwater Bay, and looks out over Carbery’s 100 Isles.

Travellers through Wicklow have, since ancient times, oriented themselves using the high peaks. Pilgrims going to the holy city of Glendalough and keeping to the coastline south out of Dublin might have followed the routes which, today, pass over Bray Head. A modern way of doing it, at least in part, is on the railway line that hugs the cliffs between Greystones and Bray – a feat of engineering laid out by Isambard Kingdom Brunel in the 1850s and surviving to this day, although it has had to be realigned six times because of erosion and rockfalls. It has even been described as one of the world’s most picturesque train journeys – something of an exaggeration, perhaps, but it’s well worth taking the trip if you are in the area. The photos above show (from upper) the public trail leading from Windgate up to the Bray Head Cross; the railway line seen from the cliff path that runs close to the route – note the abandoned tunnel on the far right; the view from Bray Head looking south to Greystones with Dunbur Head, south of Wicklow town, far beyond.

Back in West Cork we have no end of high places to choose from. Our latest escapade was a climb to the 1950 cross at Dromore, between Bantry and Drimoleague, which provides the two views above and this one, below, from which you can see the high peak of Gabriel in the distant west.

We have shared with you some of our favourite high journeys in our own part of the country, including the remarkable Borlin Valley road, which crosses the County border between Cork and Kerry:

Climbing to the summit of Knockaphuca gave us this striking view over the Mizen village of Goleen and out to the ‘Wild’ Atlantic beyond it:

Heights still to be scaled: in the picture above I’m walking on a very old roadway which leads out to a ruined Napoleonic signal station perched right above Mizen Head. To my left is the distinctive Mizen Peak. Both sites will feature in future posts, and both reveal dramatic views over this western edge of the land.

We couldn’t complete any account of high places in the west of Ireland without mention of one of our favourite destinations: the Beara Peninsula. Above is the view north from the top of the Healey Pass, looking into Kerry. Below is a dizzying view into the heart of the Beara: look at the farmsteads and cottages below the ancient field system, dwarfed by the power of the mountains.

We will continue to share with you our experiencing of the landscapes here, and not just the high places, of course. We have many years of exploring Ireland under our belts, and look forward to lots still to come.

Mizen Mountains 5 – Knockaphuca

Perhaps one of the most satisfying mountains on the Mizen, the 237m high Knockaphuca provides a well maintained waymarked trail best tackled as it is laid out – in a counter clockwise direction. You will go up the east side and down the steep west face. If you are lucky with the weather, as we were just before the longest day, you will have an experience which is hard to rival in this corner of Ireland. The loop walk is one of the latest sections of the Fastnet Trails which have been established to the west of Schull during 2019. All credit is due to the team which has so successfully organised and laid out these trails: this has involved much behind-the-scenes hard work.

In fact the full Knockaphucka Loop trail starts in Goleen, and is 10km long. We joined it as it leaves the R591 road north of the village (upper picture – the route goes off to the left). The map above has the mountain section (which we followed) superimposed on the Google Earth contour information. The section we walked is 6.6km long, and climbs about 200 metres.

One of the first landmarks on the way is right at the point where the marked track to the mountain leaves the main road: Ballydevlin Old School House (above). There is another ‘Ballydevlin Old School’ nearer to Goleen; presumably one was the National School (established c1831) and the other may have been a denominational Church of Ireland school. This peculiar Irish duality still exists today in many places.

Once on the marked track you are in a paradise! An ancient green road takes you part-way up the mountain, passing through small gorges which must have been cut out long ago: even if you are not a geologist you can’t help being impressed by the rock formations – they could be works of art.

After a while the path turns to the east and follows narrow, grassy glens bordered by majestic, serpent-like outcrops. It’s here that the views begin to open out, particularly to the south. Always you think that there couldn’t be a finer prospect over the Mizen and across the islands of Roaringwater Bay, and always – as you climb higher – you are surprised by the next, which is even better.

Twists and turns take you more steeply across the contours and swing round towards the summit. Only then is the full picture revealed: the whole landscape set out below you – every rift, valley and glacial glen with the higher land beyond culminating in the crests of Gabriel, 407m high, to the east, and the ‘little’ Mizen Peak, 232m high, to the west.

You won’t get lost as you head for the summit: this mountain had a distinctive cross placed at its highest point in the Holy Year of 1950, which reportedly fell in 1968, leaving the inscribed concrete plinth intact. The photo below shows the plinth in 2006 – courtesy Richard Webb. A new cross was installed in 2011 by a community effort led by the local GAA: this is now visible from much of the trail. The plaque mentions ‘…these challenging times…’, referring to the financial crash that hit Ireland so badly around that time. Illumination of the cross today is provided by photo-voltaic cells.

When you get to the top – pause… Now is the opportunity to appreciate the spectacular views in every direction. On our outing the south wind had been building up all day and was at its strongest in the late afternoon, when we gained the summit. It was pretty hard to remain upright! In fact, I wondered if we were being given a message by the resident Púca whose domain this is, after all?

The path down descends quite steeply: make sure you are well shod and vigilant. But you are in for further treats: the marked way passes by some peaty mountain tarns which are exquisite in their pristine beauty. Finola was in her element finding undisturbed native species such as water-lilies and sundews.

The mountain trail section ends on the small boreen running to the west of Knockaphuca, but the waymarkers will lead you back to the starting point, and there are still views up to the summit to enjoy, along with some landscape features on the way to continue to stimulate the senses.

What more could anyone want from a day’s outing in West Cork? Well – a bit of local history, perhaps. I searched for stories about the hill, particularly about the Púca – but only turned up this one told by Jerry McCarthy and included in Northside of the Mizen, the invaluable collection of Tales, Customs and History produced by Patrick McCarthy and Richard Hawkes in 1999:

The Púca of Knocnaphuca

 

The old people would feed the Púca of Knocnaphuca on ‘Snap-apple Night’, or indeed, whenever one had call to travel up the hill. It was the wise person that fed the Púca the night before going up. Milk and cake would be put on a plate and left outside the house and by the next morning the food had always gone!

 

The Púca of Knocnaphuca was half horse and half human. One late Snap-apple Night there was a young lad out walking the road when he heard a strange, sweet music coming from the hill. He went up and saw the Púca playing on a whistle. As soon as the lad had put eyes on it, it stopped playing and caught him. Away the Púca went to the top of the hill, where a crack opened up in the rock. In they went. They were twisting and turning down through tunnels until they entered a chamber full of gold. “Now,” said the Púca, “you are mine!”…

 

The next morning the boy was found on the road by the Long Bog. His hair had turned white and he could not speak a word ever after.

Thank you to our artist friend Hammond Journeaux of Ballydehob for this wonderful drawing of ‘Pooka’, included in The Little People of Ireland by Aine Connor, illustrated by Hammond, The Somerville Press, 2008. Púca in Ireland has counterparts in Cornwall (Bucca), Wales (Pwca), The Channel Islands (Pouque) and Brittany (Pouquelée). A shape-shifter (Flan O’Brien’s character from At Swim-Two-Birds, the Pooka MacPhellimey, changes his appearance by smoking from a magic pipe), the Púca most often appears in Ireland as a fine black stallion with red eyes. If you meet him, you have to mount him and he will take you on a journey far across the sea. It will seem to you as though you had been away for only a few hours, but the world will have moved on several weeks, perhaps months, during your absence. We saw no trace of the creature in June but, perhaps, if we climbed this mountain in the November Dark, we would have more chance of an encounter.

Mizen Mountains 4 – Corrin

The world is in trouble – but in our tiny corner of it we find ourselves taking the time to get out into the open air, lapping up any chance of sunlight, and bracing ourselves against the bitter east winds that seem to prevail at the moment. Following last week’s escapades, when we discovered new territory just beyond the boundaries of the Mizen, we decided to take up the challenge of one of the most significant Mizen peaks – Mount Corrin.

Upper – the elevated boulder burial at Rathruane – probably Bronze Age – seems to echo the profile of Mount Corrin – a perfect peak – away to the west, while – lower – the same monument also stands in context with Mizen’s highest mountain – Gabriel – to the south

We have passed the spring equinox, and days are now longer than nights. It’s a good time to consider seriously exploring the high ridges again. Corrin – 284 metres – is not the highest summit on the Mizen, but its profile is one of the most distinctive as it rises from lower ground on all sides – a ‘proper’ mountain! in this respect it is  surpassed only by the Mizen giant – Mount Gabriel. We’ll tackle that one later on. We notice that Gabriel is always visible to us, from whatever elevated ground we traverse.

Last time we tackled Letterlicky, which is at the furthest edge of the eastern Mizen Ridge: today’s summit is on the west side of the same ridge  We have, of course, been to the top of Corrin before: Finola’s post of October 2015 describes previous expeditions. Then, the light was magnificent and the skies were clear blue – such a contrast to the beginning of this week, when the landscape has been pallid – all washed-out browns and yellows: spring  still hiding its face in West Cork.

Upper – approaching Corrin on a challenging day. Lower – on the ascent, good distant views can be got to Ballydehob Bay, in spite of poor weather

We were the only souls on the mountain: it’s a good way of being self-isolated. But any walk in a natural environment in these strange times is exhilarating. In fact, we made two journeys to Corrin in the week: the first had to be abandoned in haste when halfway up due to waterlogged footwear and a biting cold easterly.

Upper – on our first attempt on Corrin we got as far as this wilderness before turning back. Centre – park here for the Corrin trail! It’s well marked and accessible from the east side. Lower – a convenient seat for donning the right footwear! This is on our second attempt, in much improved conditions

Suddenly – on Friday – everything changed. Out of nowhere came a bright, clear and windless day. We hurried out to complete our journey to the summit, revelling in the light. It was as though, for the first time in the year, there was a sense of expectant renewal. When we arrived home, it was to discover that Ireland had been plunged into lockdown: we (the ‘elderly and vulnerable’) have to stay in our homes unless needs are urgent (food and medicine) although we are permitted to exercise close to home, always keeping a safe distance from others.

Upper – Finola looks back along the ridge towards our previous goals (Lisheennacreagh and Letterlicky). Centre – spectacular views of Gabriel and the Barnaclleeve Gap are had from Corrin. Lower – the track is well marked: we are approaching the summit cairn

There is history on this mountain. The summit is crowned by a significant cairn. If the peak is named from the cairn – which seems likely (West Cork folk would pronounce ‘cairn’ corrin), it must have had ancient roots going back through many generations. The National Monuments Record makes brief mention of it: Class: Cairn – unclassified – Townland: Coolcoulaghta, Derreennalomane – On top of  Mount Corrin, commanding view. Sub-circular cairn (H 0.7m; 13.6m E-W; 15m N-S); modern cairn built in centre (H 2.7m; circ. 10.9m). On the way up from the east side, the path passes directly over some large prostrate slabs which look very much like a broken wedge tomb. The NMR says only this: Megalithic structure. There are also, near the summit, three substantial stones in an alignment. The NMR is silent on these.

Upper and centre – a possible broken wedge tomb on the slopes of the mountain. Lower – a convincing three-stone alignment which doesn’t get a mention in the Scheduled Monuments Record

Duchas has a far more exciting mention of Mount Corrin, with this ‘True Old Story’ recorded in 1936 from Dreenlomane School:

A True Old Story

. . . About eighty years ago where there was no talk of anyone being able to fly there lived in Screathan Uí Laoghaire [Scrathanleary] a very clever man named Julian Camier. He had a house built, and quarried slate on the other side of Cnoc an Chairn at a place called Leaca Dhubh, and then he made a pair of wings. He told all the people that he would fly if each one of them brought a couple of slates home for him. When the day came crowds of people ascended on Mount Corrin to see him fly. He went on top of a high cliff and put on his wings but they failed to work when he spread them out and he jumped into the air and he fell off the cliff and hurt his leg. All the people took pity on him and each one brought a couple of slates down to his house so he got the slate brought home easy, and after that he was known as “Fly away Julian” . . . 

 

Patrick Donovan, Dreenlomane, Ballydehob, Skibbereen

Obtained from my father, Patrick Donovan 52 yrs

The Duchas Schools Folklore Collection also mentions folktales told about the mountain:

It is said that there is a chieftain buried under a heap of stones in Mount Corrin and there are other chieftains buried in Coolcoulachta . . .  There is a cairn on the top of ‘Corrin’ hill and it is said that a giant Mc Gun and his horse were buried there . . .

Upper – view from Corrin’s summit across the Sheeps Head Peninsula. Lower – descending from the peak

It would be wonderful to think that folk tales about ancient burials on the mountain top is a memory carried down through countless generations. Clearly this Mizen summit holds histories and mysteries. but, regardless of any lore that we might find in our researches, it’s one of the finest walks that you can take in this part of West Cork, with rewarding views over the whole peninsula.

From start to finish the round walk from the eastern access point to Mount Corrin summit and back involves an ascent of 120 metres and a distance of around 6km

Mizen Mountains 3 – Letterlicky Cairn, or ‘The Old Bog Road’

I confess I’m stretching things a bit here: the 297m peak in the townland of Letterlicky, West Cork, fits well enough into my definition of mountains – anything above the 200 metre contour line. But is this one on the Mizen? We think of our own village of Ballydehob as being ‘The Gateway to The Mizen’ in the south-east, and it would be logical to have another ‘Gateway’ at Durrus, where the northern coastline of the Mizen meets the Sheeps Head. If you draw a straight line between these two points, then today’s subject misses out. But – there are no straight lines in nature, and this peak is a continuation of a natural ridge line that rises down on the Mizen near Mount Corrin and runs east.

But if you are uncomfortable with my concept of what is or isn’t the Mizen, just go with the subtitle of this post: The Old Bog Road. We found Letterlicky Cairn quite by accident as our exploration set out to follow a trackway that we had often passed, on the high road to the north of Ballybane West. We had no idea where the track would take us, but it’s very well defined, roughly paved and probably quite old. As we journeyed up into the hills, we could see that the track was there to serve peat workings which must have been used for generations. The extent of the peat workings – and the line of the old road serving them – show up well on the aerial map view below.

It was a sunless mid-March day when we set out: the wind was in the east and there was little colour in the landscape. There were, as yet, few signs of spring. We could see the ridge in the distance and, happily, the track appeared to climb towards it. In Ireland, the days of cutting peat for fuel are numbered: commercial operations will cease by 2025. Generations of families in rural areas have historically cut peat by hand and lay claims on the rights to do this. Increased regulation will eventually see this tradition declining along with all other fossil fuel production as carbon neutral ways to produce energy are developed. It seemed significant that the large array of 20 giant wind turbines on the high land to the east was a constant backdrop on our journey along the Old Bog Road.

Tomás Ó Muircheartaigh (1907 – 1967) was an amateur photographer who recorded life in rural Ireland during the first half of the twentieth century. We have used examples of his work in previous posts. These two prints (above) demonstrate the hand-working of peat faces and the transporting of sods from the workings. Our Old Bog Road would have seen similar sights in its heyday.

As we threaded our way through the peat workings, we could see the track carrying on towards the ridge. We had done no prior research into the area we were traversing, but as the way grew higher and higher – and we realised we must be coming to a high point in the landscape – we wondered whether there would be any signs of ancient activity on the mountain top. We could see other high points around us – Mount Kidd to the south and Mount Gabriel to the west – and, beyond, a spectacular distant view over Roaringwater Bay: a place like this would have been considered special, surely, to those who knew it thousands of years ago.

Views from the Old Bog Road: upper – Mount Kidd; middle – Mount Gabriel, and lower – the islands of Roaringwater Bay

As we rounded the last bend in the trackway we could see the summit ahead of us. Initially, we were delighted to see a substantial cairn. But we were surprised by the number of larger, roughly shaped boulders and slabs which were lying around it. Also, there seemed to be a substantial earthen raised platform.

To add to the interest – and the enigma – there were some 21st century monuments on the same hilltop. An inscribed bench and a carved wooden marker which resembled a gravestone, with wording on both sides:

Our subsequent enquiries have given us a little information about Mick Townshend (1951 – 2012). He was well know locally, related to the Townshends of Castletownshend, and lived near Ballybane West. The bench was made by his friend Charlie, and was intended to be installed in Ballydehob: we don’t know why it is now here at the mercy of the elements, but it’s easy to imagine someone finding such a place inspirational, and perhaps asking to be remembered at this spot.

Although it wasn’t the best of days, the view to the north was exceptional, taking in Bantry Bay and the Beara mountains beyond. It’s a place that demands to be returned to. As we prepared for the descent we heard the sound of a small engine, and suddenly there was farmer Florence McCarthy arriving on a quad bike with two collies running behind: they were searching for lost sheep. Good chat was had – although, in deference to the Coronavirus crisis, we all kept the currently regulation distance apart. It felt very unnatural to not shake hands, and we forgot to ask for a photograph, until Florence was just disappearing over the brow of the hill!

Florence

The cairn is a scheduled monument, described prosaically on the Archaeological Survey Database as: Circular area (19.5m N-S; 19m E-W) defined by scatter of large rectangular stones. The Duchas folklore collection proved far more interesting, although I can’t be sure that this entry from Gort Uí Chluana School, Bantry, in 1936 is referring to the same cairn:

Long ago when some of the people from the north of Ballydehob used be carrying their “firkins” of butter to Cork they used go through an old road in the town land of Letter Lickey . . .


On the side of this old road it is supposed that one man killed another with a stone. After that it was the custom with the old people; who ever happened to pass that stone should throw a stone near the spot the stone was dropped at the man or if not something would happen to the person afterwards. Up to the present day there is a cairn of stones to be seen on the side of this old road . . .

Mizen Mountains 2 – Lisheennacreagh

In this series I’m visiting and recording all the ‘mountains’ on the Mizen Peninsula in West Cork. I’m defining a mountain as any summit over 200m above sea level. If I hear you crying out ‘shame!’ – as a mere 200m peak can’t possibly be a mountain – then I can say our country is defined by its undulations, and here in the far west of Ireland all our outcrops, however modest, are dramatic and offer striking views over the landscape, such as the one above which looks north-west across Dunmanus Bay towards the Sheep’s Head, seen from this week’s climb.

Upper – approaching the ridges from the Schull direction, the three peaks of Corrin (left), Lisheennacreagh (centre) and Derrylahard (right) are set out before us. Lower – a closer view: Lisheennacreagh is on the left: its summit is hidden behind the forestry plantation

Last week we explored at the western end of the peninsula, where Knockatassonig – at a height of 204m – only just crept into our ‘mountain’ category. This week – much further to the east – we are more secure, as my chosen destination comes in at 274.6m. It’s actually higher than it looks as neighbouring Mount Corrin (no doubt about that one!) peaks at 288m, and appears much more of a climb from below. Today’s summit is not named on any map, so I’m probably courting controversy by calling it Lisheennacreagh, after the townland in which, by my calculations, the highest point is located. Have a look at the aerial view below:

The pink shading shows the outline of part of the large townland of Coolcoulaghta, the southern boundary of which takes a sinuous course to include the summit of Mount Corrin. Over in the east, however, our high point is exactly on the boundary between the townlands of Coolcoulaghta and Lisheennacreagh – a boundary which is physically defined at that point by a substantial fence, whose course – part of the Sheep’s Head Way Mt Corrin Loop route – we followed all the way up to this summit from the designated car parking area on the Rathuane to Durrus road. After much on-site pondering, I decided to give the summit to Lisheennacreagh, as Coolcoulaghta townland already claims Corrin!

Upper – Finola is heading out for the high ground: the summit is in the far distance, beside the forestry plantation. Lower – looking back from the ascent, high Mizen summits are set out: Corrin is in front of us and Mount Gabriel is in the distance to the left

According to the place name records surveyed in 1841, Lisheennacreagh (Irish Lisín ne Cré) means Little fort of the preys or plunders – I was hoping I might find some traces of ancient earthworks on this summit, but there is nothing visible: buried deep in the inaccessible forest is a scheduled monument, described as a hachured univallate enclosure with a diameter of 22m. In fact it’s not possible to complete this loop walk at all, as the way to the next high point – Derrylahard, 301.7m – passes through heavy forestry, but access has been blocked by storm damage earlier in the year.

Above – autumnal shades of rough grazing continues all the way over the summit: you can go only as far as the next section of forest. Our companions on the walk were just a few ponies

It may seem a fairly featureless walk, but it was well worth the efforts for the superb views in all directions. We were lucky with the day: the mild weather this year has continued right through September and well into October. The mixture of blue skies and scudding clouds emphasises the contours, shadows and natural features, wherever you look.

Rewarding views from the Lisheennacreagh climb: upper – looking across Roaringwater Bay to Baltimore; lower – Cape Clear in the far distance, with another view of Gabriel, the most dominant feature of our Mizen landscape

I found some entries from the Duchas Schools Folklore Collection, for Durrus School. I could not find anything specific to Lisheennacreagh, but I liked this introduction to ‘My Native Townland’ from Brenda MacCarthy dated May 9th 1938:

I live in the townland of Coolcolaughter away out in the country, far from any stuffy unpleasant town or city, and almost two miles from the village of Durrus. My home is at the foot of the mountain in a quiet peaceful valley where my father tills, and sows, and reaps, from dawn to dark year in year out, happy and prosperous, and thankful to God for health and existence . . .

One aspect of Lisheennacreagh is that it is one of the more accessible peaks. There’s a place to park your car (with a fine view looking out to Durrus!), good signage and waymarks. Once the path is repaired beyond this summit, you can go on to Derrylahard (which will be the subject of a future post) and complete the loop by going round Glanlough to Durrus, then back over Corrin – a marathon 17km in all. Choose a good day and you couldn’t hope for a more inspiring hike.

Good accounts of this route and the whole Sheep’s Head system of trails can be found in Amanda and Peter’s book Walking the Sheep’s Head Way – Wildways Press, 2015. Also, have a look at this Living the Sheep’s Head Way post.