Walking West Cork – Top of the Rock

When we could still walk within the boundary of our own county – and in company – we went with our friends Peter and Amanda in the footsteps of a saint! The walk from Drimoleague to the Top of The Rock – and beyond – is one which has been on our ‘to do’ list for a long time, not least because the first person to do it was our own Saint Finnbarr, founder (in 606AD) and patron saint of Cork city. The motto of University College, Cork is Ionad Bairre Sgoil na Mumhan which means ‘Where Finbarr taught let Munster learn’.

Finbarr is also famous for establishing a monastic site at Gougane Barra in the sixth century, and today you can follow St Finnbarr’s Way all the way from the Top of The Rock to that magical lake in the mountains where you can find an oratory and chapel dedicated to the saint: the full walk is 37km. Our own walk was a mere 3.5km but rewarding nevertheless.

Our walk started at the former Drimoleague railway station. The line opened in 1877, connecting Dunmanway with Skibbereen, and subsequently extension lines went in all directions: to Cork, Bantry, Bandon, Courtmacsherry and – via our own narrow gauge line – from Skibbereen through Ballydehob to Schull. Sadly, all lines coming south west out of Cork have closed, some of the routes surviving until the 1960s. The picture below, dating from 1898, shows the track at Schull Harbour, the most south westerly point on any railway line in Ireland.

Leaving the old station at Drimoleague the path follows the road going north past the architecturally intriguing All Saint’s church, built in 1956. Finola has written about the building and its unusual stained glass (above) – it’s well worth a look inside. Beyond the modern church is the ruins of an ancient one, surrounded by a burial ground which is full of history (below):

After a steep climb we reached our highest point: Barr na Carraige – which translates literally as Top of the Rock. Evidently the first settlement of Drimoleague was established up here and only moved downhill to be more convenient when the railway arrived. At the ‘Top’ we were fortunate to meet David Ross (below) who owns the farm and ‘Pod Park’ here, and has also masterminded the establishment of these walking routes. Great chat was had, and David suggested our best routes for the day as storms had affected some pathways: work is in hand to restore these. We couldn’t leave the ‘Top’ until we had fully appreciated the long views across to Castle Donovan: our own way then headed downwards and along the Ilen River.

Descending from Top of the Rock we were mainly ‘off-road’ on dedicated footpaths. We first met the Ilen River at Ahanfunsion Bridge, a place which has seen a lot of action historically. The name means ‘Bridge of the Ash Trees’. There was a battle here in ancient times and it is said that the victors planted trees at the ford to commemorate the event. The bridge was built originally in 1830 but was blown up in the War of Independence and subsequently reconstructed. It’s a great spot for a picnic and everyone has a good time crossing the stepping stones, hopefully while keeping their feet dry.

David and his team have worked hard to create and maintain these paths. They have also embellished them with discrete but apposite plaques which include local information and poetry. The work has also involved bridging the river in places to maintain a continuous footpath. We have to commend and appreciate the work they have done and the legacy they are leaving to future generations.

The river walk is truly beautiful, and the wooded valley is quite unusual terrain for West Cork, which is more often high, craggy and dramatic. Wildlife and wildflowers abound, in season. All too soon we came to the boreen which would take us back to our starting point. We are determined to return and follow the network of pathways further when our current restrictions are lifted. We promise we will report back!

Autumn at Lough Hyne

Wild West Cork: a rugged landscape of mountains, a myriad patchwork of pastures; inlets, coves, spruce plantations and an archipelago of mostly unwooded offshore islands. Where are the deciduous trees? This is what we ask ourselves when autumn comes and we want to see the changing colours; the wistful season of autumn at its best. The answer, for us, is Lough Hyne!

It’s just a skip and a jump to this tucked-away corner of our world. Once there, we are in a unique environment. It is Ireland’s first Marine Nature Reserve – international recognition for the ecology of this special place where not only the (salt) water is important both above and underneath the lake’s surface, but the immediate surroundings are hopefully sacrosanct for all time. These environs include woodlands which are just at this moment on the threshold of turning gold: we know gales are on the way which will tear and disperse them as winter sets in. Here’s a little tour of the paths on the edge of the water, featuring – above all – colour and texture: a feast for our eyes!

While the leaves are our main focus, everything else is worth a pause. The colour of the lake itself, certainly the wildlife it supports, but also the juxtaposition of boats, stone walls, shadows and sky are all brought to life by the early November sun.

I can’t resist quoting William Makepeace Thackeray’s description of his travels through ‘The City of Skibbereen’ to Lough Hyne, which we find in his Irish Sketch Book, published in 1843. Thackeray, the English writer best known for Vanity Fair and Barry Lyndon, spent four months travelling around much of the country and – although he appeared to enjoy himself – he didn’t have many good words to say about Ireland or the Irish . . .

THAT light four-inside, four-horse coach, the “Skibbereen Perseverance,” brought me fifty-two miles to-day, for the sum of three-and-sixpence, through a district which is, as usual, somewhat difficult to describe. A bright road winding up a hill; on it a country cart, with its load, stretching a huge shadow; emerald pastures and silver rivers in the foreground ; a noble sweep of hills rising up from them, and contrasting their magnificent purple with the green; in the extreme distance the clear cold outline of some far-off mountains, and the white clouds tumbled about in the blue sky overhead.

* * *

Of all the wonderful things to be seen in Skibbereen, Dan’s pantry is the most sublime: every article within is a makeshift, and has been ingeniously perverted from its original destination. Here lie bread, blacking, fresh butter, tallow-candles, dirty knives — all in the same cigar-box with snuff, milk, cold bacon, brown-sugar, broken teacups and bits of soap. No pen can describe that establishment, as no imagination could have conceived it. But – lo! – the sky has cleared after a furious fall of rain — and a car is waiting to carry us to Loughine . . .

Thackeray – Irish Sketch Book 1842

ALTHOUGH the description of Loughine can make but a poor figure in a book, the ride thither is well worth the traveller’s short labour. You pass by one of the cabin-streets out of the town into a country which for a mile is rich with grain, though bare of trees; then through a boggy bleak district, from which you enter into a sort of sea of rocks, with patches of herbage here and there. Before the traveller, almost all the way, is a huge pile of purple mountain, on which, as one comes nearer, one perceives numberless waves and breaks, as you see small waves on a billow in the sea; then clambering up a hill, we look down upon a bright green flat of land, with the lake beyond it, girt round by grey melancholy hills. 

* * *

The water may be a mile in extent; a cabin tops the mountain here and there; gentlemen have erected one or two anchorite pleasure-houses on the banks, as cheerful as a summer-house would be on a bleak plain. I felt not sorry to have seen this lonely lake, and still happier to leave it. There it lies with crags all round it, in the midst of desolate flatlands: it escapes somewhere to the sea; its waters are salt: half-a-dozen boats lie here and there upon its banks, and we saw a small crew of boys splashing about and swimming in it, laughing and yelling. It seemed a shame to disturb the silence so . . .

THACKERAY – IRISH SKETCH BOOK 1842

Thackeray’s Irish Sketch book is something we will return to in this journal, as it provides an unusual and, sometimes, surprising perspective on pre-Famine Ireland. But I can’t agree with him on Lough Hyne: grey melancholy hills . . . in the midst of desolate flatlands . . . Clearly, he cannot have visited on an autumnal day, and neither was he favoured by the sun. Perhaps there is a poetic justice there, somehow: we embrace everything that Ireland – and West Cork – has to offer; possibly his acute and carping scrutiny of the detail removes from him the more rewarding overview? For us, Lough Hyne was idyllic!

Our wonderful Skibbereen Heritage Centre has comprehensive information on Lough Hyne – and much more!

Roaringwater Bay in 1612

Roaringwater Bay must be so familiar to you, if you are a regular reader of this Journal. It’s a land- and sea-scape of hidden coves, inlets, islands, mountains and castles: a treasure trove for explorers and historians. That’s Black Castle at Castlepoint, Leamcon, above – said to have been built by Connor O’Mahony in the mid fifteenth century. Probably the best place to get an overview of the coastline is to climb to the top of Mount Gabriel (407m) and have a look down. You will see stretched out the archipelago of ‘Carbery’s Hundred Isles’ – seen here in autumnal hue – Cape Clear is the distant remote landfall over on the right:

We always have a sizeable pile of books waiting to be pored over. Currently at the top is this study, The Alliance of Pirates, written by Connie Kelleher and just published (2020) by Cork University Press. We have yet to consume every detail, but we do assure you that it’s full of fascinating historical information – not just about pirates, but about life and culture in the west of Ireland in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. Connie is an ‘underwater archaeologist’ and we have followed her over many years, lecturing and presenting original information which she has gathered together on her subject. We couldn’t fail to be hooked on everything she says, illustrates and writes about, as the focus is on our own doorstep. One linchpin of this book is a map which is dated to 1612. This article from Atlas Obscura explains the map and Kelleher’s approach. It’s worth reading: note that you may be required to register on the Atlas Obscura website (it’s free) in order to access it.

The 1612 chart of the “Pirate Harbours” of southwest Munster which became a valuable source of information for Connie Kelleher‘s studies © SUB GÖTTINGEN 4 H BRIT P III, 6 RARA UNIVERSITÄT BIBLIOTHEK GÖTTINGEN LIBRARY ARCHIVES, GERMANY

The purpose of today’s post is to examine the 1612 map in detail and attempt to identify and relate to many of the places which are named and illustrated. Before that, though – let’s consider how such a chart came to be made. Finola has written previously about how West Cork as a whole was being mapped in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries here and here. The thing that sets the 1612 map apart, however, is that it was made in secret, and largely from surveys only carried out at sea. Also, it was specifically intended to enable a Dutch fleet to assail the pirate strongholds which became numerous around the area from Baltimore to Crookhaven, centred on Roaringwater Bay and ideal for forays into the wider Atlantic trade routes.

The sheltered waters of Crook Haven – an important recognised centre for careening and victualling ships operating legitimately on the Atlantic trade routes: ships that would become prime targets for the pirates based in secret ‘nests’ along the same coastline

. . . In 1612, having grown tired of the ongoing pirate harassment, the Dutch government lobbied James I for permission to enter the harbours of southwest Ireland to attack the pirates themselves. James I agreed, but only under the conditions that the pirates would be captured alive and handed over, along with captured goods, to the Kings’ ships to be transported for trial by the Admiralty in England.

To prepare their ships for the attacks, Dutch hydrographer Hessel Gerritszoon was tasked with mapping the Irish coastline with a special focus on the “pirate coast” of southwestern Ireland. A large task in front of him, Gerritszoon engaged English cartographer John Hunt to assist. . .

Atlas Obscura

The leeskarte which the hydrographers produced still exists, and has been housed since the mid 1700s in the library at the University of Göttingen in Germany, which acquired it in the mid 1700s. During her researches, Connie Kelleher travelled to Göttingen to examine and document the map, which is a wonderful resource for enlightening us on some aspects of our local history.

. . . It is a type of ‘treasure map’ informing on the heritage within the landscape at the time, which could potentially help us identify other pirate-related locations, including archaeological sites . . .

Connie Kelleher

In this extract from the 1612 map I have focussed on our immediate area – the environs of Roaringwater Bay itself. Many names will ring bells with us (Clere, Baltemor, Rossbren for example); others won’t. For a simple comparison I have chosen a version of the historical 6″ Ordnance Survey map, dating from the late nineteenth century – it’s probably the clearest and best annotated example of what we would recognise around us today in terms of place-names:

Here I have located and labelled our environs, as shown in 1612. It is remarkable that every castle and many significant features are clearly shown. Now, have a look at my red circle around ‘Horse Island + Castle Island’.

There’s an island missing! Opposite ‘Rossbren’ on the mainland is shown a single island: Rosbren. Next to it is Long Island. In fact, there are two islands here – Horse Island and Castle Island. On the 1612 map there is a castle shown on the Rosbren island, but the castle is actually on Castle Island. Somehow, the surveyors have missed this detail: perhaps the visual information which could be got offshore was confusing. What is interesting, though, is that the dotted lines at the east end of Rosbren on the 1612 map seem to mark the line of a causeway, the vestiges of which do appear today at very low tides and the feature exists in local folk memory. That level of detail on a chart, produced in the limited circumstances of its, time is remarkable! You can read more about Castle Island here.

Our view across Rossbrin Cove with its O’Mahony castle and, beyond Rossbrin Castle, Castle Island. On the left of the picture is Horse Island

I want to show you some further details from the 1612 leeskarte. Firstly, here’s a close-up of Crookhaven (Croock haven on the map). Note the scales in Dutch miles and English leagues, and ‘Limcon’ – in fact Leamcon – which was one of the major pirate centres and also the territory of Sir William Hull, a Vice Admiral of Munster from 1609. His job description involved rooting out the plague of pirates in Roaringwater Bay but in fact entailing a lot of profitable collaboration with them. Also of interest here is the depiction of Goat Island – named ‘Cainor’ and a castle – ‘Penar’ which is likely to be Ballydevlin, at the mouth of Goleen harbour; also ‘Don Hog’, which we believe refers to Castlemehigan. There is no trace remaining of either of these two.

Another detail from the map (above) shows Spain Island, Sherkin and ‘Baltemore’. the depiction of galleons in full sail is a fine ornamental ‘illumination’. Also, note the small anchor symbols. In some places on the whole map, anchorage depths are shown: another remarkable factor highlighting the observation skills of the surveyors. Additionally on this detail, note the name ‘Croock’ – Thomas Crook, an Englishman, took a lease on Baltimore Castle in 1605. The ‘Chapl’ below Castlehaven is probably the now ruined church at Myross, detailed in my post here.

Our photograph of old (possibly ancient) steps carved into the rocks at Dereenatra. Connie Kelleher highlights the physical remains that can be found today in many of the former pirate strongholds around the coast of West Cork. Several are in the form of frequently hidden away steps and tying-up points in remote locations. I have included references to ‘pirate steps’ in a previous post. For the full picture, don’t forget to get hold of Connie’s book: it will make an ideal Christmas present for the archaeologists and pirate enthusiasts among you!

Through The Big Gap

It’s October: autumn light is playing on the skies and seas as we set out to cross the Sheep’s Head peninsula on a path which is new to us. The path traverses the backbone of this peninsula – a ridge which is virtually continuous from east to west – and runs from Rooska, a settlement beside Bantry Bay on the Northside, heading south for Coomkeen and then Durrus. Before we take to the hills, however, we need to prepare ourselves with some sublime scenery en-route, a little excursion into vernacular architecture, and an encounter with local expertise.

From upper – a Sheep’s Head pastoral, the view over Glanlough towards distant Beara; a perfect composition in tin and stone; a niche for offerings? Looking to the ridge – and The Big Gap – in the distance; Joe O’Driscoll with his architectural egg-box. Unfortunately the hens are not laying at the moment!

We are heading to the start of our climb and find a busy settlement, historically once a mining centre and now home to a major award winning seafood producer, bravely weathering the Covid storms. It’s worth a look at their colourful website! You might not expect to see such a venture on the wild and remote Sheep’s Head Northside, but it’s a great boost to a fragile local economy. We wish them well in surviving the Covid19 crisis. Parking up at Rooska, we get first sight of the zig-zagging route that will take us over towards Durrus, passing through The Big Gap at the summit of the hill.

Upper – looking north across Bantry Bay from the path; middle – from the south, the path descends through The Big Gap; lower – the path can be seen on the right cutting through the hills: the highest point is 200m above sea level

I tried in vain to find a name for the way we followed. I would like to have called this post The Mass Path, which is given to it on a modern guide, and it does seem probable to us that one purpose of the trackway would have been to take Northside dwellers over to the old Catholic church at Chapel Rock in Durrus, a distance of 7 kilometres (or four and a half miles in older times). There and back would have been a taxing walk for a Sunday morning on an empty stomach (you have to fast from midnight before taking communion)! However, we were told locally that our intended way will lead us through The Big Gap, hence my title.

This view over the Northside area of Rooska, above, shows several features and the beginning of the path over the mountain heading south. Notable is Killoveenoge Church, known as a ‘Chapel of Ease’ and said to have been built in the 1860s specifically for the English and Cornish miners who were working in the nearby silver and lead mines at the time. There are scant remains of these mines now, and the Church of Ireland building was closed in 1988 and converted to a studio.

Looking down on Killoveenoge Church from The Big Gap path, with Bantry Bay beyond

The townland name Killoveenoge translates as Church of the Young Women and the only explanation of this I could find suggests that the site was anciently a priory, sacked by the Vikings in 890AD. It is also said that some ruins of this are visible, but we failed to find them – nor any factual historic records. The Schedule of Monuments notes a circular burial ground in the west of the townland with early grave markers, but nothing more. Clearly folk memory transcends recorded history, and that is one of the attractions of Ireland – to us, at least.

Upper – The Sheep’s Head Way trails have a strict code, which benefits all users; middle – the ruins of a cottage almost lost in the furze. The mining records mention a ‘miner’s cottage’ still being visible: could this be it? Lower – gaining height as the path gets steeper: that’s Whiddy Island in the distance

The wider aerial view shows the full length of the old trackway as it crosses the mountain through The Big Gap. Just past the summit when heading south is another landmark, also holding a folk memory. Lough Na Fuilla translates as ‘Lake of the Blood’:

A reed-filled lake suddenly appears; so many different greens, so far from anywhere and the gentle murmuring of the reeds all combine to make a rather unsettling atmosphere . . . Maybe it’s knowing the name of the lough, Loch Na Fuilla, lough of the blood, that plays tricks on the mind. There is a story attached, of course. One extremely hot summer the cattle came down from the mountain in search of water. The lough was empty. Maddened with disappointment and thirst the cattle went berserk and attacked each other and many were killed.

Walking the Sheep’s Head Way – Amanda and peter Clarke – Wildways Press 2015
Lough Na Fuilla, and a nearby tarn on the east side of the trackway. The autumn colours are sublime

Neither the Lake of the Blood nor the nearby tarn are shown on the early OS maps. The few remaining mining records, however, mention that there was some prospecting activity up on the ridge: could this have relevance? And is this another reason for the existence of this path? We are impressed with the views from The Big Gap both north and south. We temporarily divert on to a stony sheep path to get even higher, and to find the best panoramas. From the ridge we also record the contrasting light and shadow effects from a constantly changing sky.

We pause to wonder whether a large rounded outcrop is the Eagle’s Rest which is mentioned by local historian Willie Dwyer, of Rooska:

The gap going through the mountain there, by Loch na Fuilla, the locals always called it, that’s the old people who are dead and gone now, used to call it “Barna Mhór” which means “The Big Gap”, and on the right-hand side (the north-west corner) before you come to the extreme top of the track, there’s a round bald rock which was known as “the Eagle’s Rest”. I don’t know how long the eagles have been gone out of this part of the country, but it must have been a long time ago. This is a tradition now, it has been passed down as tradition, how true or false it is, I can’t prove to you.

Willie Dwyer, Quoted by TOM WHITTY in ‘A guide to the Sheep’s Head way’ 2003

From The Big Gap it’s downhill all the way! As we walk south it’s the Mizen which is always on the horizon, across the waters of Dunmanus Bay.

As we approach the southern end of the trackway crossing the mountain, we look back up towards Barna Mhór – The Big Gap. It has been a most rewarding adventure for us, and one which we intend to repeat at other times of the year so that we can capture the effects of the changing seasons.

Mizen Magic 20: Ballyvonane Headland

Twenty Mizen Magic posts . . . The whole of the Mizen is magic and magnificent – at all times, in all seasons. It doesn’t matter where we go, we will find things to photograph and write about: landscape, history, the remnants of lives lived generation after generation, and new life – art, creativity. We have on our doorstep a cornucopia – an inexhaustible resource.

In late September, close to the autumn equinox, Nature has chosen to be compassionate to the human denizens of West Cork. In these benighted Covid times we are having exceptional long, warm and calm days, inviting us to take to the hills and headlands to shake off the wretchedness of bad news and the miasma of melancholy that it might bring. We in the far west remain free to roam unfettered, for now, and Roaringwater Journal is committed to bringing you the good news of fresh pathways to be trod and fine vistas to be unfolded.

At the beginning of the track is this imposing ruin: we wondered when it had last been occupied

Today we thought we’d finish something we started back in February: Delights of Dunmanus described how we set out to walk a trackway marked on the map going over the headland in the townland of Ballyvonane. In fact we didn’t make it: winter storms had flooded our way near the start of the track and – after getting hopelessly lost trying to go around the flood we had to give up. Finola graphically set out our probable route on that day (in blue – we were aiming to take the red path!)

Today we were determined: we donned boots which would withstand a substantial flood. In the event they were quite unnecessary as the land was dry. We felt secure, though – but hot. After the first few hundred metres – which is the old way leading to a ruined house and now much overgrown – the path became well defined and easy to follow. We passed many signs of human intervention on the landscape: skeletal cottages and field boundaries which looked like rows of standing stones. The fields themselves were empty, however: we saw only one living creature the whole way. That was a wood pigeon that clattered noisily out of the bushes as we passed.

This section of the path was completely flooded when we attempted to follow it in February!

The journey was rewarding because of the wide views out across Dunmanus Bay with the Mizen and the Sheep’s Head flanking either side. There was quite a haze over both peninsulas arising, perhaps, from distant gorse fires.

Passing abandoned cottages which had the aura of ancient temples we rose up to the higher ridge commanding the best views. We could clearly see Carbery Island to the west: this has a lonely modern residence on it. Close by are the other islands in this group: Cold Island, Furze Island and Horse Island. Lusk Island and Scurvygrass Island are some way off to the north.

Each turn in the trackway opened up fresh views, and new dimensions, to the bay below us. Some may consider this landscape featureless, but a moorland scattered with large loose and earthfast rock formations – some resembling megaliths, but clearly natural – is my own favourite. Look at the map above to see how far the rock outcrop extends . . . In my mind’s eye it’s the work of giants.

Unlike many of our journeys into the West Cork landscape, this one had no clear end, there was no destination, no historic or archaeological feature that we had set out to find. There was just a turn in the trackway at the northernmost point of the headland and then the trackway continued on to became a boreen and, finally, a road leading back through Ballgibba North and the R591 (where Kilhangle is sited – see Finola’s post). We could have made a big loop of it, but there wasn’t enough time in the day that was in it. In any case, returning on the same path was no hardship and gave us more time to indulge in the tranquility of a way less trod, and in the sublime peace of an afternoon spent in remote places.

The autumn hasn’t quite come upon us yet, but some signs have started to appear. One is the ‘dandelion clock’ (did you call them that as children?). Finola challenged me to find the ‘perfect’ one, with the promise that, if I did, she would provide the ‘perfect’ photograph. I found perfect, and then perfecter, followed by perfectest. Here’s Finola’s promised rendering:

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.