Lough Salt's Crockmore - The sleeping dragon

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Another Sunday, another completely different set of weather, with the cold snap making its rounds back with a vengeance.

Today, we'll venture not that far from home, to yet another hill named Crockmore next to Lough Salt, and then some, to visit an old acquaintance of ours...

The start of our wintry path

Weather is overcast with some rare sunny spells, but very cold. As a matter of fact, there's a very light occasional dusting of snow in the air as we start our walk, and some small accumulations here and there on the ground. Most of the water we come across is frozen also.

A small frozen pond

First part of the way is uneventful. Just follow the path around Lough Greenan, enjoying the views of the old trees and dwelling as we come down.

The abandoned farmhouse

Lough Greenan, towered by Loughsalt Mountain

I'll skip over talking about Loughstalt Mountain today - It is always a nice presence, but we climb this often enough so we'll get back to it in due time...

Then at the southern end of the lough, leave the track and climb our first small peak across the vegetation, whilst leaving the crows to complain about how our initiative disturbed their peaceful afternoon.

The view from the hilltop, with Errigal in the distance

While we do appreciate the views from the top of our first hilltop, and especially the ones from a sunlit Errigal, the eastern wind is pretty chilly up there. As a matter of fact, I'm starting to grow a bit tired of having to freeze my right hand every time I remove my glove to take a picture. So we press on towards the small valley to the west, where, without surprise, we find that the streams are also frozen.

More frozen streams

As we pass through this valley, I can't help but share a great example of the blonde hue that has captured the wilderness grass at the end of winter. Of course, we'll see this tint change as we progress through the year, but I must say, I do have a small preference for the almost wheat-field like tint we get at the end of winter, especially when a bit of sun decides to play the highlights.

The hue of the Donegal grass, at the end of winter

On the other side of the gap, we start climbing Crockmore in earnest, which is not a big feat as there are plenty of granite spreads to help us out. From the top, good views of Glenveagh are to be had, as well as Errigal and the summits next to it.

Gleanveagh National Park and its eponymous lake

Yet we're still not at our final destination. So we press on, first by coming across some these interesting Nasca-like lines patterns in the grass:

Line patterns in the grass

While I'd prefer not to burst your imagination bubble, my understanding is that these come from old turf trenches (we're in turf cutting country after all). But then again, I may be wrong. Maybe those are alien landing strips after all...

By now the landscape gives way to more and more granitic outcrops.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: a nice inclined granite slab underfoot keeps a hillwalker happy.

Gently sloping granite slab, I could kiss you!

By now, we have arrived at our goal. Enter the (sleeping) Dragon:

The sleeping dragon

This may look like a tortoise's head, but don't let it fool you, it's a sleeping dragon alright...

Furthermore, according to the legend, if you rub its nose a certain way, it'll wake up from its slumber... and breathe fire on you!

Now, while I may be cold around these exposed parts of the county, I don't think I am willing to take that chance. So we leave it to its 6,000 years nap undisturbed, and move along.

Besides, with the winged beast behind us, we get enjoy more views of Errigal in the distance. Definitely looks like Someone is pointing us towards Lough Altan and the nearby peaks. Maybe we'll accept this invitation for once, and go there next week, since we've been longing to go back there for some time...

Not visible in this picture: Lough Altan and its glistening surface, under the bright sunshine

Time to turn back. This was a pretty uneventful walk, so we'll add a small element of (calculated) risk as we climb the rocky accumulations back to the top of Crockmore (which we could skirt, but it's more fun this way) by walking through a small precarious ridge. Doing so actually leads us to sighting a few icicles along the way, which makes for an interesting picture, so I guess our shortcut was worth it.

Some icicles - Did I mention it was cold today?

On our way, the only thing we disturb is the usual flock of sheep that roams these parts.

If I didn't know better, I'd say these guys are on the lookout to rob a bank...

One last view of Rossguill and we're back at the car close to the field where turf has recently been stacked to dry.

A little too cold to cut turf today...

Suggested Sound Track

• The Gathering - On Most Surfaces (Inuït)

Soooo, I wasn't really planning on hitting you with that one just yet... if ever, seeing that I'll always be about 50 years too early with this specific song.

But with these talks about waking up a sleeping dragon, granite surfaces, lingering snowy winters and a capricious sun, I'd be hard pressed to find a better reference. So there you have it.
However, you'll excuse me if I keep the real visuals behind this song to myself, as this is a story for another time...

Additional Pictures

Croaghnadownies at dusk - A place to see the stars

Click on the image to see our track in Google Maps

Another one of my year-round quick-walk destinations and, on occasion, a place where I go see the stars, especially in late autumn or late winter (with a preference for the former, since it's not as cold then)...

Tonight is one of those, mostly because I thought I could use a break and also because the late afternoon clouds happened to part in exactly the right manner to make this dusk walk fit its intended purpose.

Besides, low light walks do take a completely different dimension, and the view from the top of Croaghnadownies at dusk, with vistas of Ards, Rossguill and Fanad, are known to soothe even the most cold-hearted wandered. With a day that went from bad (rear flat tyre on the bike, just one day after I fixed a flat on the front one) to worse, and where nothing of value was being accomplished, it was an easy decision to go see the stars rather than try to spend yet another hour, banging one's head against the wall, all to accomplish nothing...

And stars we did find! First to appear at our impromptu rendez-vous was Sirius, due south, winking at us in an especially scintillating way. But then again, it's not like Sirius is that far (only 9 lightyears, which is a cake walk on the cosmic scale). Turning to the the west, a bright Venus also joins, whose light effortlessly manages to pierce through these late long clouds that are so rudely trying to stand in her way. And not much longer after that, Orion, pointing its nose as the first constellation to finally reveal itself in full.

From there, things only got better, even though eastern/northern stars and constellations did happen to take longer to appear, in these dimming skies, than their southern counterparts.

Sure, it may be windy and quite chilly up there, but it's not that bad a place to be, when surrounded by such a fine crowd. Plus the climb down in darkness (no moon today) is great fun. Maybe some other day, I'll talk about the times I used to walk alone, full speed ahead and very late at night, along empty Parisian boulevards... with my eyes closed.

All this to say: walking in complete darkness is awesome!

Thus, with the isolated valley sheltering us somewhat from the light pollution, we are free to get our fill of stars long before we arrive back at the car. Maybe this day wasn't a complete waste of time after all...

Suggested Sound Track

I dunno. I could probably find something not too committal, that mentions stars...

Or, if you insist, we can go full commit, with SHA-1 and everything, and with some John Wesley.
It is true that I may relate to John's obsessive songwriting nature possibly a bit too much at times... In that case, since there's nothing more for me to say, let me hit you with:

• John Wesley - Star

Horn Head - Take a step back

Click on the image for our track in Google Maps

In what has to be quite a change of scenery from last week, today we set off to Horn Head, mostly because it's been a fairly long time since we last were there (has it been 2 years already?) and also because the afternoon didn't seem like the greatest time for an inland climb anyway, as demonstrated by the cloud-blanketed low summits we could view from our base. Considering that we've had our share of clouds last week, and even if having to dab oneself with sun screen is a pain in the ass, we might as well take our chances with the coastal sun...

The sinuous eastern coastal road

And thus, on a bright and relatively mild Sunday, we merrily arrive at Horn Head. I have to say, even the drive there is a hoot, with the towns we go through already dressed with Irish flags in anticipation of next week (St Patrick's Day), with Dunfanaghy being its usual animated touristy self, flush with ill-parked cars and crowds, and with our usual narrow eastern road, on the Horn peninsula, punctuated with its cattle grids and east side drops, offering us unmitigated views of the northern coast as well as our destination.

Our destination

With this bout of a sunny spell, I was afraid that there might be a fair share of visitors, yet only one other vehicle was to be found at the car park. I guess either people decided to spend their Sunday at the pub, or they did not realize that the skies were set to clear up from the north. More space for me!

That's what one calls "cliffs"

Now, if you like cliffs, this is where it's at. Obviously, we're not talking Cliffs of Moher here, or even Slieve League. Still, these ones do just fine. As a matter of fact, I do tend to find Horn Head a lot more impressive than Slieve League, as you get the real precipitous drops one expects when hearing the word "cliffs", whereas Slieve League, while higher, appears a lot less precarious due to its lack of proper verticals. As much as, being a Donegal resident and all, I'd like to continue to see Slieve League being promoted as the highest sea cliffs in Europe, I'm going to say that, if you don't feel a real sense of danger when walking near the edge, then it fails to qualify as a real cliff...

The old tower ruins, on top of the cliff

And so, we abandon the car and set off on foot towards the eastern part. One of my recollections of Horn Head, which online maps also seem to corroborate, was that there is a rather marshy area between the car park and the tower ruins. Therefore, with yesterday having been particularly wet, and with my hiking boots not being as waterproof as they once were, I had been pondering whether this location was such a great pick for today. However, it appears that what I recalled had more to do with bringing visitors here, who tend not to be used to boggy grounds and may voice some complaints about the muddy conditions, or me straying away from the path when coming back from the tower ruins, rather than anything else. Even with the recent downpour, the path to get to tower ruins was lot less damp than I feared, and certainly a lot drier than many of the other places I regularly visit, which aren't advertised as boggy grounds.

The old tower ruins

Once at the tower, your options are pretty clear: just follow the cliff path up to its most northerly point and enjoy the views. At this stage however, I must confess that I forgot part of my original plan for coming here, which was to also provide you with some pictures of the various markings people leave in stones on the grass near the tower, and where they'll use rocks lying around to spell their names or other messages. As a changing artificial landscape, it's always an interesting aspect of this walk, but not one I'll be able to share today. Then again, you can see a sample of what it looks like in the Google Maps satellite view above, if you zoom in south of the first marker.

Don't be tempted to go down this seemingly inviting gorge...

Eventually, we arrive at the northernmost point of the cliff, and in doing so we pass next to a grassy gorge falling down towards the western seas which I'll always recall as the source of an argument I had with one of my best friends and his (then future) wife. This had occurred because they insisted they wanted to try to go down the steep gorge, and I saw it as my responsibility to prevent them from doing so, since I knew it was a lot more risky than they imagined. Obviously, this kind of ruined the mood of our hike for a while, but I must say that, if you have an inkling towards climbing down the cliffs, whatever feasible path you think you have identified is very likely to morph into a very treacherous and slippery overhang, a long way above the water and/or rocks, so you're definitely better off not trying your luck.

A lone trawler skirting the head

Besides, there's more than enough to enjoy from the top of the cliffs, with good views of Tory Island in the sun, as well as one lone fishing trawler, that must be part of a fleet frequently seen around these parts.

Don't let it fool you, there is a 150m almost vertical drop here

Of course, once they have reached the north point, most visitors will just turn back here and reverse path to the car park, with perhaps a small alteration to reach the coastguard concrete tower, on the hill that sits right besides the car park. But, since we're not most visitors, we continue our route along the west side, as we do have another more secret goal in mind, slightly off the beaten track. Besides, the views of this part of the coast, with the wet rocks glistening in the sun, are just too stunning to pass anyway:

Glistening rocks in the sun

Following the west trail, we then come across a recent barb-wire fence, that wasn't there last time we walked here, and that constrains our motion a little bit (can't get as close to the drop as we used to). Soon enough however, and after crossing a couple small streams, we get back to our usual relatively free path. Now that's more like it!

Not the more recent fence, but this older one comes with a bird

There our walk is only punctuated with the sound of birds we disturb, as well as some more vertical indentations we have to skirt, some of which do offer quite the tortured sample of tectonic layers:

I think I see a quetzalcoatl here... What do you see?

By now, the skies inland are also clearing, and besides the coast line, we're starting to get some good views of Muckish and the snowy remnants at its top. Hey, we were there last week!

A snow capped Muckish, slowly losing its cloud cover, for the greatest enjoyment of the contemplative crowds

Eventually, after passing some more creeks, ridges and stony fences, we arrive at our ultimate goal: Templebreaga Arch:

Templebreaga Arch

In the evening sun, and with the occasional strong wave crashing against the rock face, this certainly isn't a bad sight to behold...

Wider view of the arch

I guess we've gone as far as we were planning to go today, therefore it is time to leave the arch and complete our loop. We'll do that by first heading towards a nearby farm, and then follow the road to the small village (Claggan Upper). At the very peaceful village, we take the path left that goes towards two more remote homes, and across a field populated by about 8 or 9 friendly horses. Then we leave the path and climb between the houses, carefully choosing where we put our feet so as to make sure we don't damage the old stone wall.

A few of the field's inhabitants

As we finish our small climb back, the skies happen to clear even further in the setting sun, providing more unadulterated views of the peaks that sit between Muckish and Errigal.
If nothing else, this is certainly turning into an impressionist's evening:

An impressionist's dream, probably

Finally, we are back to the road that leads to the car park and, with one last view of Tory Island in the sunset, we head back home...

One last view of Tory Island

Now, as I am closing this entry, I can't help but mention that I happened to see a fox during the drive home, while coming down from Glen. Of course not an uncommon sight in these parts (there are plenty of pheasants for them to feed from) but, as with seals, I am always thrilled when I manage to spot one.

And no, since I am not the superstitious type, I'm not going to try to infer what having seen a fox might mean for my future (Later addon: if anything, it seems to mean very lousy luck for the week ahead, with a bike that gets a flat on both tyres at one day's interval, a book shipped from the US that manages to be routed to the complete other end of the country, ultimately arriving damaged, as well as more time wasted by yours truly having to teach a certain Certificate Authority how they should be doing their job).

From what I seem to read however, at least in dreams, seeing a fox is supposed to indicate that you should take a step back before trying to rush into something. Do I wish there weren't a couple of times where I'd have seen a fox in my dreams, so that I then would have refrained from doing something really stupid? Possibly...

Suggested Sound Track

Considering that I have been listening to this track more than I'd like to admit recently, and because the fox episode makes it all the more fitting, I can't resist suggesting:

• Simple Minds - Take a Step Back

Now, even though I'm not that much of a fan of Simple Minds, I could still write volumes about the  masterpiece that is Street Fighting Years as an album. Then again, considering that this is a suggestion section, I'd rather refrain from trying to alienate readers with what boils down to personal tastes and experiences, so the less I say about it, the better. I am however going to mention that it took me a couple of years to really warm up to that album, which one of my sisters purchased on tape around the time of its release (Good job, sis!), and which I have therefore pretty much continuously listened to ever since.

Still, with regards to this specific song, one may consider that there might be something strangely prophetic about suggesting to "Go tell it on a mountain", which is literally how this whole blog came into existence last week, or something a unsettling about wanting to "shake the deep foundations of this land" when you're standing near the edge of a cliff... At least, one might cryptically hope to have managed to make the most of it, before cooling it down...

Additional Pictures