The Poisoned Glen - My enemies walk free

Click on this image for our track in Google Maps

Three months ago, when a blanket of snow was still covering the top of Slieve Snaght, I told you that I would bring you here.

And thus, here we are, in the promised valley that is The Poisoned Glen.

The name may look ominous, but, as with many Irish place names, the Anglicized version has very little to do with any meaning behind its label. Instead, it boils down to whatever closest approximation of their own language the English-speaking people who came across these lands thought they heard from the Irish speaking locals. As a matter of fact, the naming of this place is often attributed to a mistranslation of "Heavenly Glen", so talk about missing the mark here...

Thus, while the valley is indeed very deserted, this is not due to any "poisoning" occurrence that ever happened here and, depending on how good a hearing, whoever the person that Anglicised the Irish place name had, I might just as well have brought you to "The Pigeoned Glen". But of course, it wouldn't have the same ring to it...

Though calling this "The Pigeoned Glen" would certainly make any attempt at scaling it a lot less daunting

Weather-wise, as you can see from the above picture, it's clear blue skies all around, and despite the thermometer still ranging in the low 24°C, it does feel hot. Too hot.

It also happens to have rained a few days ago, resulting in slight twist in my plan of only walking here when it's been warm and dry for at least one week. But the thing is, I just bought new hiking boots (the old ones had developed a big gnash on the side, that made them pretty much unsuitable for any serious hike, since you're going to find wet underfoot no matter how cautious you are), so, for as long as this Gore-Tex doesn't wear off, I'll laugh in the face of boggy ground especially as I know all too well that boggy ground will eventually get its revenge against my dry feet, way sooner than I'd like...

We'll park a bit further down from the old Dunlewey church

Now of course, who says warmth + recent water means flying insects. Tons of flying insects. Furthermore, because much of the beginning of our hike does take place in a somewhat secluded valley, we're going to be bothered by those little pests for some time.

As a result, I literally got my blood repeatedly sucked by horseflies, while walking down the valley, regardless of how actively I tried to chase them off...

Still, horseflies are the least of your worries here, because we also gotta talk about the damn ticks, which you'll find in abundance during this season as well, and those are a lot more troublesome to avoid. Worse, some of these are also known to carry some very nasty diseases, that you probably don't want to read too much about, especially if you're about to set off on a walk around these parts...

So you'll want to have long sleeves, which doesn't sit too well with this kind of weather. And you'll also want to make sure that the bottom of your trousers (don't wear shorts!) are sealed off. I myself rarely use gaiters when hiking, leaving them mostly for times when I know I'll have to walk in the snow. But this is an occasion where I made sure to use them, because, on a hike like this and without additional precautions, I knew it would be way too likely that many of these little demons would manage to find their way onto my legs...

In the end, it looks like this endeavour was successful, as I did manage to fend them off from underpants down. However, one of these literal little bloodsuckers managed find it's way up my torso, probably because it was just impossible to try to walk with more than a loose long sleeve shirt in this weather, and I had to remove it with tweezers. Still, that's not the worse case of tick removal I had this year, which happened on a hike a couple weeks ago that I'd rather not blog about.

I guess the other solution would have been to bring live chickens, and let them loose in the valley, since it is said they are incredibly efficient at eating their weight in ticks...

On our way towards the end of the valley

Now, the other thing we have to talk about with regards to hiking on a day like this is water.
If you go through the whole circuit highlighted above, and the day is hot, make sure you bring at least 2 litres of water per person.

The water topic is something that I tend to bring up when walking here, the reason being that, the very first time I hiked in the Poisoned Glen, in conditions much similar to the sunny day we have, if not hotter, and with the intention of circling the valley through its ridges (starting from the southern one) I was completely ill-prepared in terms of hydration, and thought I'd be able to rely on a mere 500 ml water bottle...

The valley sitting pretty, before it's going to gulp us whole, all without needing a drop of water

Of course, that water didn't last long and by the time I reached the middle gap (the one you see in the picture above), I was starting to get quite dehydrated. So much so that, when got to the deer fence that surrounds Glenveagh national park, and that happens to skirt the northern side of the Poisoned Glen, I saw it an insurmountable obstacle that was requiring me to reverse track, instead of realizing, as I should have, that I could easily slide through it to continue on my planned way, since that fence is really just a bunch of non barbed horizontal wires, prehaps 25 to 35 cm apart.

And it is in fact on this occasion that, because I didn't want to walk the long route back, I took a chance on a direct descent using the pass at the end of the valley, with no clear idea as to whether that corridor may ultimately bring me to the top of a precarious cliff face, still way up above the valley, with no means of progress further down. As you can see, some of the slopes surrounding the glen are less than inviting for Sunday hillwalkers...

Here are the kind of rock faces you don't exactly want to climb, be it either up or down

Thankfully, while it certainly does look unpassable from afar, and while it is still of course relatively steep, the corridor at very end of the valley does suit itself to safely climbing up, or safely climbing down, to/from the upper ridge pass, and, all in all, that dehydration mishap has led me a discover a route that I probably wouldn't have tried on my own otherwise. These days, because it's a lot of fun to just go for it, I always tend to use this route as part of my itinerary here.

Besides, it probably looks super-impressive for whoever might be looking at bottom of the valley, and spot a lone crazy climber halfway up on what looks like a very vertiginous drop, and even more so for the passing motorists who might be taking pictures from the awesome viewpoint that sits on the R251 road.

But of course, before we can start our climb, we first need to reach the bottom of the valley...

The type of soggy ground you'll find walking around the Poisoned Glen

Now, as I mentioned, this is a walk you really want to do when there's been at least a week of warm and especially dry weather. That is because, since you are venturing in a literal valley, you are going to come across some fairly boggy ground, the direct result of the various streams flowing from higher up. Or, if you can't necessarily count on the weather, at the very least you need to make sure you have some good waterproof hiking boots, okay?

Outside of this small inconvenience (and provided flying/jumping insect pests are not also trying to suck you dry), the walk to the end of the valley is pretty uneventful, nay very enjoyable, especially as you get to see the rock faces grow taller and taller, and come to realize just how insignificant you are in front of them.

The closer you get, the more it feels like the rock face is planning to eat the lone climber that you are, whole

I should also point out that, once again, since we were a bit late in the afternoon (because... reasons, that are once more associated with the tagline I'm using), we also didn't encounter any other soul in the valley, which suits us splendidly: we'll drink all the poison of the valley for ourselves, whilst leaving no friendly drop to whomever may come after us! Then again, unless you have done it before, you do have to feel a bit mad to want to climb straight up to the ridge, once you have reached the very end of the valley.

The glorious blooming colours of the heather you'll find in the valley... and elsewhere

With some ground to cover, we take this opportunity to admire prime samples of heather, that are starting to bloom, and that should soon start to cover whole sway of Irish countryside in the most admirable shade of purple. Indeed, summer is assuredly there and people who think that Ireland can be summarized in mere shades of greens certainly have never spent a whole year in the country, if they have no idea how it constantly changes, from one vibrant shade to a completely different one in the space of a mere month. And that's not even talking about the long conniving game between light and reflections...

Examples of streams reflected on a flat rock surface

At last, with Errigal standing always majestic above us, we have finally reached the end of the valley, meaning there is now nowhere else to go but up.

The view from the end of the line

Before we start our climb in earnest, we go greet the lone tree that is standing at the beginning of the upward slope. And then we simply go for it.

Now, I'm not going to say that this is not for the faint of heart, because, unlike what could be your impression from the viewpoint, I don't really see much of any hazard in this climb (even in wet weather, I don't believe you'll be in much danger from losing grip), but it can seem a bit strenuous, especially if conditions are warm. This is why you really want to bring plenty of water with you, and take your time...

All in all, I found that I used about 1 litre of my allocated water, by the end of that climb, with a good chunk of that pre-emptively downed at the beginning (since it'd make our backpack slightly lighter). It may also be worth pointing out that, while steeper, the 2nd part of the climb is actually less tedious, in our opinion, because it's less bogged down by vegetation and, as was the case for us today, you may also find yourself finally shielded from the implacable sun, thus bringing a much appreciated change.

Plus, the view you get after you cross the mid-point totally makes up for the effort:

Now we're talking!

Oh, and during this climb, you may also get some confirmation that the valley is not so poisoned after all, from the fauna you may meet on its sheltered slopes.

Clearly the Poisoned Glen doesn't seem so inhospitable to this little fellow

There at last, we have reached the gap! And as we step further onto the pass, we find ourselves rid of of all these little flying pests that had been bothering us earlier, through a combination of the gentle breeze, that we certainly wish has been with us when we were down in the glen, and the fact that they don't seem to enjoy flying that high.

Also, if you go through this climb, you may partake in my impression that, as soon as you reach the gap, it's almost like a different world is offering itself for discovery in front of your eyes:

Part of the mysterious world that lies "beyond the gap"

Since we feel like we've deserved some respite after that little climb, we're going to laze around a bit, first by going north to get a better viewpoint of the valley we've just left. When we come here from a different approach route (another walk I'll probably bring you along with me some day), we tend to go to the most prominent and steep rocky encroachment, on the north side of the valley, to get the most impressive view of it. However, since this is not the end of our hike for today, we're just going to go to the closest one and enjoy a quick snack there.

With the proper air draft, one might be able to jump from here, and hang-glide to the Errigal...

It certainly does feel peaceful that high above the valley. So much so that, as I am slapping sun screen all over for the second time, I am almost tempted to just stay here for the rest of the afternoon, whilst taking in the view of what could almost pass as a rille. Given the location, as well as our natural inclination, it's not surprising that we almost feel like we are carrying out a lunar traverse here.

But it is not time to call Houston just yet - Man must explore.

So exploring we will. Even if we happen to know this place a little bit already...

First, by crossing to the other side of Lough Atirrive. Going around that lough is always a bit of fun (if by "fun" you mean trying to escape de labyrinth formed by all the water puddles you'll find in your way, without ending up with both feet thoroughly drenched, a game made even better when played in wet weather), but we're also not going to do that today.

Lough Atirrive

Instead, we're just going to follow towards the south by following the ridge upwards, and see where that'll take us. The day is still plenty young!

As we start doing so, we happen to pass along a rock that has clean-split in two, and that also seems to bear the markings on its side, in runes that we don't understand, of the ill-advised fate that awaits the explorers that dare to venture further.

The old split rock

Meh, if they wanted to make themselves understood, they should have written their ominous notice in English, rather than elvish, or ogham, or whatever language that is, so we'll conveniently ignore it. Besides, even even if I could understand these markings, I'm not sure I would have paid much heed to yet another "Entry Forbidden" sign, as I am known to be wont to do.

Plus, we're finally starting to get some sweet views of the northern Donegal summits from up here, as well as the Dunlewey loughs, so you'll have a hard time making me turn away from that!

Good old Muckish and its western friends

Dunlewey and Nacung loughs

Speaking of loughs, if you do follow the ridge, you're going to come across quite a few of them, each more interesting than the last, starting with Lough Maumbeg, literally shining in the sun like a thousand rippling supernovae in the night sky:

If you want to take a plunge, there's a nice 8 metre vertical drop for you. Not sure about the water depth though...

Then a couple puddles (Note: I call puddle any body of water that is less than 8m in diameter), and then another small lake in a hidden valley further south on the ridge.

This one doesn't appear to have been given a label on any of the maps I have so, since I am planning to walk around it and, if you knew what I'm alluding to, you'd know that it's a bit of my role to do so, it's hard to shy away from giving it a name. Therefore, I hereby dub thee: Lough Lúb.

Walking around Lough Lúb

Oh, and in case you wonder, yes there is wildlife on the ridge, starting with our usual small herd of deer, that we easily scare away just from our unexpected presence, as well as the ever puzzled Irish sheep.

You'd think that Irish sheep would stop being surprised by hillwalkers trampling all over their feeding ground by now

As we finish climbing Drumnalifferny Mountain, which, at 650m will mark the highest point of our walk, we also can't fail to notice the pale Moon, that has risen while we were busying ourselves with naming things. It'll continue to silently accompany us for the rest of the way...

A pale moon rising above Drumnalifferny

Maybe this is a good indication that we should start thinking about heading home... Sorry, Snaght, that stands seemingly close at hand above the waters of yet another unnamed "puddle", but I'm going to have to leave the planting of my feet at the top of your inviting rocky slopes, to yet another day.

Slieve Snaght, right in front of us

And thereby begins the question of finding a good place to climb down. Of course, we could easily continue southward on the ridge, towards Lough Slievesnaght, and then use the gentle gap we know exists there to head back towards Dunlewey. But I had already decided, when I set off on this walk, that it would be better for us to leave some unfinished business we have with Lough Slievesnaght to another day.

Therefore we will purposefully avoid Slievesnaght today. Which means we have to find a way down along a somewhat steep and rocky ridge face yet again.

A lone Lough Slievesnaght, calling to us in the distance...

After a little bit of soul searching, we settle on a steep but passable corridor, between two rock faces, which we climb down without much difficulty, and which naturally brings us towards the shores of Lough Maam.

The pass we used to climb down, with the tip of Lough Maam on the right

I'd say, climbing down (somewhat) rocky passes is not really what you need to be most worried about, when walking in Ireland. That is unless the landscape is really wet. Instead, what is more likely to do you in, are the unsuspicious stones or boulders, lying in wait at the bottom of a slope, and that you'd barely think to look at twice.

Heed my advice: never trust setting your foot right too close beyond a loose rock, especially if you can't clearly see what lays there. Around boulder areas, and especially ones that are covered with hefty vegetation, you may find, much too late, that what is hiding behind that innocent looking rock is a very deep hole indeed, which you definitely don't want to put your foot into, even more so if walking at full speed.

I actually managed to skirt such a treacherous deep hole, lying in wait just beyond a very innocent looking boulder, not far from Lough Maam. I still shudder to imagine what might have happened had my foot gone straight through its 70cm depth, while I was striding along.

A lunar Slieve Snaght, towering proudly above Lough Maam in the setting sun

It is not long after leaving the shores of Lough Maam, that we encounter some more deer, straight ahead of us. As usual, they spend a little time observing us, to devise our intention, and soon flee towards some other place known only to them, and that they don't anticipate us to come by. They certainly have a lot of unfenced space to roam through around this area, so I'm not really surprised to come across yet another small group of them.

If anything, it tells me that we are exactly where we wanted to be, far away enough from humans for the wilderness to have taken all of its rights back. Indeed, if it gave any different of an impression, we wouldn't have walked miles, just to be here...

A few more deer specimen, preparing to flee

But with the hour getting late, maybe we too need to think about taking the long way home.

And yet the views are so nice in the setting sun, and the days so long, that we could easily stay a couple hours more. If we do that however, it'll be midnight by the time we get home, and unfortunately, since we are collecting enemies in a much less tangible world, we do have some not completely time-independent business to follow through... Plus those 2 litres of water we took care of bringing along this ride are practically gone by now, and we may find ourselves getting thirsty before long, considering that the sun is still pretty warm.

Errigal and the Dunlewey lakes

Still, In this late hour, it's hard to not want to take in more of the fantastic light we are having. Was my camera any better, I might even manage to give you a more proper idea of what it actually felt to be there in this enchanting time where dusk is finally starting to make some headway across the land. Oh well, I guess that's your loss. Besides, having a bit too many pictures to share can become a bit of a burden.

Water. Water everywhere.

Thus, as we are leaving contrasting shadows, and a high moon silently watching over it, we can't help to take one last look at the fine sight to behold that is the Glen. We'll be back here again for sure, especially as we never did complete that dehydrated walk we undertook years ago, that was supposed to bring us full circle around the valley...

Time to say goodbye to our silent yet watchful companions

Suggested Sound Track

• Sting - Mad About You

Lyrically impeccable and self-contained, as any good song should be. I even seem to recall a dream I once had, prompted by this song, where I appeared to be in the process of filming some kind of nature documentary, near Jerusalem of all places, and where I was moving upward looking cameras through cave waterfalls, for great visual effects (yeah, my dreams are that weird. But I also do get to visit some awesome landscape in there, so...).

Also, while this is technically a love song (so much so that the "technically" is unwarranted here), this is not the aspect that is of interest to us today. Instead, the only the reason we picked this track and what we are zeroing in, is the lyric "my enemies walk free", along, perhaps, with the preceding stanza.

If there happens to also exists a line about "walk(ing) a lonely mile in the moonlight", as well as other stuff, that is just purely "accidental" coincidence...

I could, of course, elaborate on the reason for all this. But if I do for too long, I'm going to have to switch tracks, and pick something a lot less pleasant. So all I am going to say is: You can tell you've achieved some unwanted level of fame when you start to collect ill-intentioned enemies...

Additional Pictures