Outdoor Odysseys

Journeys Through Time and Terrain: A Clogheen and Knockmealdown Exploration

During his later years, my father took an interest in the story of Fr. Nicholas Sheehy, a Roman Catholic priest who was martyred in Clonmel. Though he came from West Limerick, he ministered in south Tipperary and became parish priest at Clogheen. It was in the nearby Shanrahan graveyard where his remains were laid to rest following his execution.

That may explain in part how my second day from Cork took me to Clogheen. Another reason is that the Knockmealdown Mountains are similarly near at hand, thus making both motivations work in tandem. Thus, I made for the local church on my arrival in Clogheen where I surveyed a monument that was constructed in front of it.

That was not all, for I set off for the graveyard where the remains were interred. For part of the way, I was following segments of the Blackwater Way and the Clogheen Loop, only to leave them for my quest. A footway continued all the way by the side of a quiet regional road and no further than the graveyard itself; there is little doubt regarding the reason for such an urban feature in the midst of a portion of Irish countryside.

Once there, I lingered a while and made some photos when the sunshine was blocked by any clouds. As well as the historical aspect, there is a scenic side to the location too, reminding me of the other lure that drew me this way. My historical respects made, I followed a quiet byroad to the trail that I left behind me earlier. Some ascent lay ahead of me.

As I gained height, the views expanded all around me. To the north lay the expanse of the Galtee Mountains, whose shapely whalebacks captured my attention. These hulks may lie on the northern side of the valley, beset by heat haze, yet that took nothing from the way they looked, even if that haze challenged photography. The added height, compared to where I was located, could not be discounted, as I trod by more anonymous looking hummocks.

A boreen carried me a long way into the Knockmealdown range, with only a solitary tractor passing that way. All was deserted, not that I was complaining as I left the tarmac for a track leading towards Knockclugga, my only summit of the day. Though Knockshanahulion was not so far away, I decided against going that way in favour of following the trail downhill. Consciousness of time and the heat of the day might have something to do with this, yet it leaves open the prospect of a return sometime.

What lay before me also might have something to do with my decision-making. Knockmealdown, the highest hill in the range, lay before me and looked more shapely than the eminence that I had been traipsing. Views opened up in front of me and around me as I continued my trek, some of them leading south towards County Waterford. The trail shadowed forestry as it continued east, with a few ups and downs to exercise the limbs. In time, the growing heat of the day would catch me a little.

In time, I would reach the side of the R668, the road from Clogheen to Lismore that passes a noted viewpoint called The Vee. Though this was a spot favoured by my parents, I decided against following the road around that way in favour of the more peaceful trail in the direction of Bay Lough. As I did so, I marvelled at the direct trail up the steep western slope of Sugarloaf Hill. The audacity and heedlessness of the thing only gets stopped down when you realise that there is an inflection offering respite part of the way up. Otherwise, the sanity of the routing would need questioning.

After Bay Lough, the trail entered mercifully wooded shade at the expense of any views. Later on, I did see if I could glimpse The Vee by a moderate deviation, only to conclude that this was fruitless. The forestry cover put paid to that, and I wanted to catch the last bus of the day back to Cork. As ever, one needed to avoid getting marooned.

Trails were abundant and should have a use if a return came to pass. Names like the Avondhu Way and the Blackwater Way suggested proximity to the county of Cork, while the East Munster Way is more inclusive in its title; some of my rambling that day took me into the county of Waterford. My way back to Clogheen returned me to the R668 and brought me across the River Duag. Handily, I had a wait for the bus to come, and it may have been delayed.

When I boarded, I was told to use the lower saloon of a double-deck vehicle, a disappointment given the scenery through which it was going. Later on, a dishevelled character came downstairs with signs of having hit his head off something. That may have been the reason for the instruction. The same person was to find that he had embarked on a return trip from Cork instead of reaching his intended destination, which caused a difficulty for the driver. This was not a discussion in which I was involving myself, and I slipped away quietly; there was someone else to back up that driver.

None of this intruded greatly on what had been a superb day out. A later conversation with fellow residents at my hotel expressed surprise at what I did in the heat, especially when the location is quite a way inland. The increase in heat was nothing like the record-breaking temperatures that beset many in the UK only weeks earlier, yet the warming trend continued for the rest of that week.