Up, up and up some more.....

Adrigole to Castletownbere

We wake early, excited as this is the final day and what we have trained for over the past 15 months and walked for over the past 4 weeks. The day shines bright and the fog has lifted so a spectacular view over the water and green fields. Some small stone houses perched on the edges of the inlet. We try to sneak about but being an older house this is hard as the boards creak. We are told “you are early down for breakfast, you are always early”. We are ready to go shortly after breakfast; a packed lunch is handed to us with a request for €7 for it. We are a little flabbergasted as we had said not to worry about lunch as we still had some small bars in our bags but Margaret insisted. I think the surprised look on our faces must have said it all as she then told us to put part of the fee towards a Cancer donation.  Her husband insists on driving us to the drop off point, Peg’s Shop, where we are to meet the other walkers who will escort and guide us over the mountain of Hungry Hill, the highest peak in the Caha Mountains. The coastal road to Castletownbere is 14klms; our route will be much longer.

The walkers are local people – Paddy and Jean and Fachtna. Paddy is an experienced walker and Fachtna is a retired police sergeant. It appears there are two walking tracks, one which takes you the low side of the hill and the one which we will be taking over the top. I think we are in for a long, hot and very exhausting day; I really have no idea of the day’s plan. Kath takes the “dead dog’s bag” from the inside of our back packs thus lightening the load considerably and we head off. Men being men, they walk fast and take long strides leaving us women behind. Paddy stops, giving us time to catch up and get our breath, he points out the lonely standing stone sitting obscurely in the farmers field with the high rocks engulfing the fields, other objects and places of interest. Waterfalls trickle down the side of the mountain, a result of the rain overnight. The first field stile and up we climb, over rocks and gaps in the land for which we require a helping hand. The view down the hill is fantastic and we continue to follow the little yellow man, the same yellow man that got us into trouble 25 days ago near Leitrim. Shorn sheep and lambs on their knees, too large but still sucking off their mothers. The morning fog is clearing and the day is starting to warm up. Several bog patches to cross as we stop to check the view of the waters and the not too popular oyster and mussel farm that has grown in the Bay. Paddy is a fast walker and a hill climber, something which Sue and I are definitely not. We never trained for hills. The walkers are fresh and we are not so the climb is starting to take its toll. Up and over another hill.  “Just a few more” is a call that we hear several times during today’s walk. Sue and I have decided that our ancestry is definitely O’Sullivan but definitely NOT Mountain Goat. We trudge up 300mt of Hungry Hill and much of it was vertical and on rock. Up, up and up we go.

We are now walking the Beara Way, a stone path with the handmade rock fences, rising rocks on our right and the waters of the Bay below on our left. Up we continue, another rock, another hill to cross. The little lighthouse seated on one of the several small islands in the Bay can be seen, the coast road is a distance below us. Our path veers away and up we climb again, I would have preferred to stay on the track but we follow the yellow man and the markers. Our walking poles are with the Pathway Porter and today we could have used them but we have not used them for the complete walk. The mossy sections on the large chunks of flat rock are avoided so we do not slip and fall, we cross several small waterfalls and gullies that have been scoured out by the rains. There are some grey stoned houses down in the valley with their backs to the hugh rock cliffs.

We start to drop down to a dam covered in small satin white waterlilies and green brown reeds, continue through the bog but we still must climb. Across the blue bridge joining the two small rocky ravines and we stop for lunch. Our boots are wet and we still have a way to go.  We are now walking on the spongy sphagnum moss, common in the bogs of Ireland. Direction arrows are drawn on the rocks showing we can walk either way; the sun is high in the blue sky. The blue and white stained sheep look out over the bay as they protect the Number 56 walking man post. Up another hill.

I feel we are being tested – to see if these Australian girls are as good as they say. We will prove we are good.

We cross another fast-flowing stream and take a precipitous path hanging onto the side of the water, we are careful not to slip. Past Princess Beara’s grave marker we follow the sheep trails for a while but again we leave the walk and start to climb again. I feel this will be the last time we climb – at least I hope it will be. We are exhausted and it is taking every ounce of energy we have stored. We have walked all day; it has been one of the hardest walking days in the last four weeks but one of the most fulfilling. We have nearly finished what we started and have dreamed and discussed for such a long time. Beautiful and peaceful landscape.

We start the walk down on the small broken rocks with views of Castletownbere ahead of us. From behind some large rocks appear several people with cameras poised and the calls of “Congratulations!  Fair play to you”. We know none of these people but over the next few days they will become close friends. The hospitality and friendship throughout Ireland has been remarkable.

Further down the walk we are met by Kathleen and more locals.

The sheep at the bottom of the track are penned and ready to be shorn. We stop for a breather, a look and a chat. Down we continue to a small lane covered with overhanging trees keeping the heat out and leading into the coastal village. We are now walking in single file until we reach Aghakista Bridge over the Kista Stream and which was the original route from Glengarriff to Castletown Berehaven.  Close to the stream is the 19^th century Tuck Mill known locally as Florrey Kellys Mill. Tuck Mills were used to shrink woolen cloth by churning it in vats.

The tide is out but still the long necked white swans can be seen swimming in the remaining waters. The ruined boat remains poke above the water looking like a row of savage teeth and the bright coloured houses and shops along the main street welcome us to our final steps at the Twomey Bar. Outside there are a crowd of people and a smiling face I know. That face is the man who suggested this walk two years earlier. It is lovely to see the O’Sullivan Chieftain, Michael Ed. The townspeople have put up a welcome sign above the front door – O’Sullivan Bere Walk - Brisbane to Breffnie to Beara Welcome Jennifer and Susan. These smiling faces and this friendly sign have made the last four weeks of sheer exhaustion worthwhile. Today we have walked or should I correct myself and say climbed 26.7klms.

More photos and we all raise a glass or in my case a pint of Guinness – I made it Seán O Riáin. All we hope now is that our luggage has arrived and again I guessed wrong.

We need some clean clothes as the town people have organised a night of fun and music at the bar. This will be our first night’s entertainment since leaving Australia and some time to relax and mingle with the locals. A quick call to the Pathway Porter and a very surprised reply as he thought our arrival date was tomorrow so I leave it in his capable hands to remedy the situation.  The luggage finally arrives some hours later and after 9pm we head to the bar – it is finished and we have become the first Australians and first women to have walked the Beara Way in reverse from Leitrim to Castletownbere, quite an achievement and a feather in our hat. Fachtna, the president of the Beare Historical Society presents us with several locally produced books and we relax and listen to the Irish music which I dearly love We meet one of the older town residents, Father Sean O’Shea – a real character but that is another story, so many locals and tourists who are there for the music and fun. So different to a night at the pub in Australia.