Mountains in the mist

Mill Street to Ballevourney

We decide on a taxi ride to Mill Street, a clapped out private car. Perhaps it is an Irish Uber Cab but he was on time. The driver, Vincent, drives with one hand on the wheel and the one arm draped across the back of the seat. He has had a late night so not sure if he would pass a breathalyser. Sue and I are tightly belted in and we have an interesting ride to Mill Street for 20 euros. We had to laugh as he makes the sign of the cross twice as we passed the local Cemetery, not sure why he did it twice? The town is lively for such an early hour as we head off on the Blackwater or Duhallow Way towards Ballyvourney and our last rest day.

We head out of town and the mist hangs low over the mountains, past some impressive blue sideway statues of our Lady. The mist thickens as it gets lower and we know that rain is imminent. The black faced sheep and their lambs are back among the tufts of grass and the purple Heather is starting to appear again on the hillsides as is the white flowers of the peat bog. We climb the hills and views from the top are worth the exhausting and chilly climb. We are now seeing on the pathways a small Alpine flower, a sign we are up high in altitude. Low mist or perhaps we are in the clouds so the rain is not far away. Rows of Standing Stones, Standing Circles, Wind Farms, Wedge Tombs and the blue and white roadside shrines are in abundance.

The rain passes quickly and the sun has started to shine brightly making the remainder of the day hot and humid. The dairy farms are busy with their herds of tattooed cows moving them from field to field via the road; it is so peaceful up on the top of the mountains. We are now walking on narrow lanes full of potholes with the grass and ferns high on each side of the walk. We start the downhill climb, still we are on lanes with abandoned stone houses, steps leading nowhere into fields where there are pink and black bales of hay piled high, mossy tops to the old stone fences under rows of pine trees with their nuts bursting open to show off the small bright yellow flower. We are now under the massive metal electricity towers draped across the hilltops. Purple Foxglove, Heather Bell and the yellow Buttercup creeping across the fields, such a beautiful and peaceful part of Ireland.

We are at the bottom of the mountains and time for a well-earned rest, off with the shoes and as we have stopped beside a fast flowing stream the temptation is too much, the water is straight from the hills and extremely cold but soothing on the feet. We know we cannot stop for too long but long enough to check our directions and savour the waters of the mountains.

A few more valleys and we start to see the signs for Ballevourney. The day has warmed up and the walking is hard going. Ballevourney is a Gaeltacht village in South- West County Cork stretching along the N22 road. The sign at the start of the village says we are entering Ballymakreey or Baile Mhic Ire. First stop is a local pub so we can get our shoes off as we still have a lengthy walk through the village and past the 9 White Deer Brewery to the Mills Inn where we are booked for our rest day – two nights in the same bed and hopefully clean clothes. Sheer bliss. The Gaelic Football match is blaring in the public bar and a lass singing the Irish Anthem – the worst rendition of the anthem that I have heard and several patrons agree. The Guinness is free when the owner realises what we are walking for so it tastes even better. We cannot fault the generosity of the Irish.

The remainder of the walk is about a further two kilometres, past a few hotels and the grounds of "Coláiste Íosagáin", a former De la Sale College before the bright yellow Mills Inn, a family run business, comes into view. Being Sunday afternoon and a sunny warm day there are people and children everywhere, blow-up  jumping castles and fairy trails in the grounds, music playing, the adjoining coffee and tourist shop overflowing and no free standing room in the Inn bars. Such a difference to what we have been experiencing. The Mills Inn is built on the site of the former police barracks with the ruins of the barracks still majestically standing in the grounds covered in green Ivy. We are exhausted. Today we walked 23.5klms.

Tomorrow we will visit the grave of St Gobnait, the patron saint of bees and her woods, organise some washing and just rest as our bodies are starting to tire, we are now onto the last leg of the walk.