31st July 2007. Day four.

I awoke in the morning and on realising where I was, quickly thought about my muscles. Nothing sore yet. I moved in the bed. Nothing sore. I rolled my foot around, checking my ankles. All fine - no pain. I sat up slowly and moved a few more joints around my body. Nothing sore. This was great! I felt fine. I stood up and walked a little. I felt a bit stiff but nowhere near as bad as I thought I'd be. I was delighted! The previous evening I thought that this might even be the end of my journey, but feeling the way I did that morning I knew I was well able for another day's walking. I also knew I couldn't do as much as the previous day - that was ridiculous, but I'd be able for half the Cavan Walk. The full walk is advertised as 25km (16 miles), so even being a little stiff, 13km would be manageable. I was in great form and headed down for breakfast.

I was in no hurry so I had a slow and large breakfast. Then I went off to the local tourist office for postcards, and arranged with them to leave my rucksack there for a short time while I went around the small town. I went to a local Service Station with a coffee shop and took my time writing postcards, eating a bun and reading the paper. There was no point in heading off too early, as my plan was to stop after 13km and camp out. That could be in the middle of nowhere so no point being there too early.

I think it was about noon or 1pm when I picked up my rucksack and headed off. It was sore on the base of my back where the rucksack sits but other than that I was remarkably healthy considering the torment my body went through the previous day. I know I was very fit by the time I started this trip, so all that helps for a quick recovery. I left Blacklion and walked up the small road out of town into the hills. A small tarmac road brought me into a farmyard, with the standard barking dog, and then through grazing fields up to wonderful views from Giants Leap.



The view here ranges, not only over Upper and Lower Lough MacNean and Fermanagh, but also west to the Sligo and North-Leitrim Mountains, while to the north-west in clear weather the summits of South Donegal can be seen.



The walk, which was interesting, brought me through different types of ground - up and down hills, through forests, across fields, and was well marked along all sections. This was a vast improvement on the Northern Ireland Ulster Way.
This Cavan Way had big clear posts at all turns and any sections that might be a bit vague.
There is an interesting passage grave up a hill in the middle of a forest. Apparently it's the burial place of a giant who collapsed and died after attempting a second jump across the nearby "Giant's Leap". I salute his courage in undertaking that challenge. One successful jump is never enough. Go giant.

I stopped in a field with a nice view of the mountains and had lunch. I used my camping equipment for the first time and had a fine cup of tea, ham sandwiches and sardines. As much as I would have liked to stay there for a long time, I had to get back walking. And now the pain started returning. Not sudden, not extreme, but building and persistent. The walk took me down out of the hills and out onto a country road. Off-road keeps you distracted from a lot of pain. Watching your footing and concentrating on where you need to place your feet keeps the mind relatively busy. But back on tarmac is just walking and gives you too much time to think about your ailments. The road seemed to go on and on. I expected this, so I'll not complain …….. yet. At some stage however, the drudgery was broken by a cow and calf out on the road.



They were eating peacefully when I came along, but then they ran down the road in front of me. They would stop every couple of minutes to eat more and then take off again when I got close. I went past a house where a man was cleaning windows. He gave me a friendly wave, probably wondering why I was taking a cow and calf for a walk. The three of us kept walking. The window-cleaner, obviously finished one house went on to the next and was up his ladder when I, and my cow-and-calf, went past him again. We waved with a big smile this time. The animal walk went on for about two kilometres. I made all sort of attempts to get past them to shoo them back to where they'd been but they were having none of it. Eventually the Cavan Way took me off the road and the somewhat relieved cow and calf stopped and ate grass. All good country fun.

My next stop was the source of the Shannon River - the Shannon Pot (Lug-na-Sionna). The river was to be such a big part of this expedition that I was very keen to see the feature. It is a still pond about 15m diameter, and I found it and the surroundings incredibly tranquil. There was nobody around, and no roads nearby so it was fabulously peaceful.
Not normally one for being too philosophical, however I think I became one with the water. As it was about to make a fascinating journey down most of the country so too was I on a similar journey. OK, I was tired. But it was really nice there. I'd like to have camped there but my GPS read 10km and I wanted to do 13km to avoid a longer journey the next day. I affectionately and symbolically spat into the Pot and carried on.

Very quickly I was back on a tarmac road and not enjoying a boring walk for a few kilometres. My dictaphone recording says:

"Day 4 - first day of the Cavan Walk and I'm trudging along the road and it really is just trudging along. There's a long section of road here and it's just boring. This is shear endurance. Nothing interesting about it, just shear endurance. I feel tired, my legs are sore - particularly me feet, my feet are sore all the time. Not the soles of them, just the whole feet ……. all around them. Anyway I'm trying not to concentrate on that. Other than that I don't feel too bad. But carrying this bag on my back is such a drudgery. Three stone or whatever it is ……… I'm just suffering it. It is now six minutes to four. I told myself I'll stop at four o'clock. Roll on these six minutes."


I couldn't wait for the 13km point on the GPS. My plan was to camp anytime after that. I reached the 13km stage and rested for quite a long time, eating peanuts and raisins. On walking again, at about 5pm, I kept an eye out for a place to camp. There was nowhere suitable. Every field was either overgrown with hedge growth or else had cattle in it and I didn't fancy being trampled on by some inquisitive cow or bullock. Some empty fields with short grass had obviously held cattle recently as they were all holed and dug up by cattle hooves on the boggy wet ground. I walked another few kilometres getting more and more disconsolate with every sore step. I had imagined that one could just throw your tent down almost anywhere, without a care in the world and the wind in your hair, but the reality was disappointingly different.
I eventually realised that I was near a point where I had driven to maybe a year before. I knew of a field on the route where I had walked into when planning this trip. I knew that field was suitable for a tent so I pressed on, hoping there wouldn't be cattle in it now.

I was now down walking along the Shannon River, and the marked trail had deteriorated considerably. Hedge growth and brambles had encroached onto the trail making progress difficult in places. This was more like the Ulster Way had been. In some areas where the trail led through a gap in the hedge, the soft wet ground was all potted from cattle hooves, or else had turned to soft muck, and I had to walk quickly through it to avoid sinking. I was wearing good quality walking so thankfully they kept my feet dry as I was only sinking to near the top of the boot.

I followed the trail as best I could, and it brought me to higher, and drier ground, away from the river. I could see from my GPS I was only about half a kilometre from the field I intended camping in. After a few minutes walking I couldn't see the next Cavan Way trail post. I assumed the walk would be straight and walked across a couple of fields until I came to hedges that I could not pass. Going uphill didn't seem the right direction so I decided I'd have to make my way back towards the river. The field I wanted to get to was beside the river. I knew the river would bring me to where I wanted to be. Getting back to the river was extremely difficult.

When I got near it, even though I was still a few hundred yards from it, the ground was completely water laden and very boggy. I ended up jumping from one clump of grass to the next. Then one foot went down into soft ground and I was up to my knee in muddy water! The boots couldn't help me here. I felt the water pour into the boot, soaking my sock. I was raging, but didn't know exactly who or what I should be raging with. For the second day in a row, at a vital stage when I was tired and near exhausted, I had lost my way, and here I was battling again to get back on track. I blamed the poor marking on the trail, and I also blamed myself for not concentrating sufficiently when I really needed to concentrate. I battled on, slowing calming down, reminding myself that this was all part of a good expedition. Challenging times. But, I asked myself, why do that have to come so late in the day when I'm utterly drained and hungry? Sitting comfortably at my computer here now it's quite clear why the biggest challenges come at those times - they are of my own making. Even at the time, at the back of my mind, I knew that's why I was in trouble at these times, and that was something that I learned to address during the trip. When you're tired, exhausted, thirsty and hungry, they are the times you particularly need to slow down and force yourself to make good decisions. Otherwise the difficulties just build on each other.

I battled through the boggy field, and then thick overgrowth, and got myself back to the track along the river. This wasn't a clear, easy walking track though. At times, with so much overgrowth encroaching, it was barely discernable as a track at all! And then reassuringly, every so often, I would come across one of the posts that marked it as the Cavan Way. It was quite a big change from the clear, well-marked trail of earlier that day. Suddenly I reached the field, and the road beside it, where I had been about a year before. But things had changed considerably. The field had been cleared of hedges and trees and was now prepared for something else. The work had only recently been carried out so most of the field didn't even have grass on it but open soil! I checked for a suitable surface to pitch my tent but it simply wasn't suitable at all. I couldn't believe it. Everything seemed to be contriving against me. I was getting fed up of challenges. I went out on the road and started walking, getting very tempted to ring a taxi and bring me to the local town! But within minutes I spotted a field of freshly cut grass for hay-making. I made my way to the entrance gate and saw a house across the road. I contemplated sneaking into the field, just in case I was refused permission, but I felt I should really ask to pitch my tent. I knocked on the door and heard an old lady's voice telling me to hold on. Knowing how my own elderly mother takes time to reach her door with her walking aid, I waited patiently. The door opened and a woman, the image of my mother, answered, holding tightly onto her walking aid. I explained my predicament and assured her that her field would be alright. I was delighted when she told me to go ahead. I am extremely grateful for her kindness.

I found a suitable place in the field - level and somewhat sheltered by hedges, and pitched my tent. When I climbed in I realised how stiff and sore I was. Already my muscles were beginning to seize up. I had intended to walk 13km that day but I had walked an additional 4km looking for a place to pitch my tent. I found it incredible that I needed to go that distance looking for a tiny patch of flat grassed surface. All the fields I encountered were either overgrown with hedge growth, brambles and rushes, or had cattle in them, or had recently held cattle and the ground being so wet from the Summer's rain was rutted, and holed from the cattle hooves. If the fields had held sheep the ground would not have been bad, but it appears sheep are not farmed in that part of the country.

Sitting in my tent, having peeled some wet muddy socks off, I was happy that the worst of the walking was over. From here to Dowra was on small country roads, but not through boggy fields! Having done lots of mountain walking before this trip, I had expected to enjoy the walking section much more, but with carrying my heavy pack it had become a difficult drudgery. I noted in my dictaphone that if I was to ever attempt a trip like this again I would have my equipment delivered to suitable locations. Carrying it is an accomplishment, but not enjoyable. Lesson learned. After 17km walking through some rough terrain, it wasn't long before dusk, and I think I was asleep in my tent by 10pm.

30th July 2007. Day three, Phase two.

My Dictaphone recording says:

"I realise I am very low on water, and I've another couple of hours to get to Belcoo, but I have to get there because I will need water. I have a half-litre of milk and I'll have to rely on that for a while. My legs are killing me. I enjoyed the trip up to lunchtime but after that it has become endurance. I would do things differently if doing this again, but right now I'm going to have to carry on. My legs are sore, sore, sore, but I'll struggle on because I don't have much choice. "

At that time I remember thinking to myself that in lots of other situations where things are difficult I usually have some sort of way out. Maybe ring somebody, or send for help, or spend money, or just give up what you're doing and go for a pint or go home. But it struck me that out here, I had very few choices. I could stop, put up my tent and endure an uncomfortable thirsty night. And then in the morning try to get to Belcoo while dehydrated. That didn't seem like the appropriate or sensible thing to do. I remember thinking "No - I have to keep going". Then I got jitters in my stomach. Adrenalin was doing its job. The problem became another challenge. We all love a challenge. My legs were sore but I marched forward, feeling remarkably upbeat. I was going to get to Belcoo, and that was that. Adrenalin is a great thing. I focused on that map because I knew it would be a disaster, OK a problem, to get lost now. And to get around my sore legs I just concentrated on getting to the next major turn in the road. That's all I needed to do - just get to the next major turn and take a rest. Anything after that would be for later but for now - just the next big turn. And so it went - breaking the journey into short manageable sections.

My sincere apologies for the lack of photos in this section. As you might imagine, I wasn't in the form for photography. So this may be for you as it was for me - a struggle to get through!

Those short manageable sections went on, and on, and on. It was difficult to remain positive. I didn't all the time, but I quickly brought myself back when the drudgery of walking with this heavy load started getting me down. The time passed and bit by bit so did the major turns. I was getting there. At one turn, which I thought to be the last before the hill down out of the forest, I came around the bend and a long long section of forest track lay in front of me. I knew I had been a bit optimistic about that particular turn. I could see from my map that it might be the last turn or it might be the one before - with a long section still left. I looked at the big walk in front of me, took my rucksack off and lay flat down on the forest track with my head on the ground looking up at the sky. It was about 7:30pm. The stones on the back of my head were uncomfortable but I could have slept right there. My body didn't want to move another metric meter. I got so comfortable I had to prevent myself from falling asleep! Getting up from there and putting on my rucksack was very difficult, but I was back walking again.

I walked the long section, feeling better and better as I got closer to the turn that would take me out of the forest and down into Belcoo. It was about 8pm and I wanted to get there by 9pm so that I'd be able to put my tent up in daylight if I couldn't get into a B&B. Looking at the map now I still can't figure out how I went wrong. There is clearly a crossroads on the map where I should have taken a right turn, and the crossroads even said "No Entry" on the track that went straight on, but for some reason I went straight. I suspect I was watching the GPS, which indicated straight on for Belcoo, but the map clearly shows I needed to go right. I was tired, even exhausted, hungry, thirsty, and I obviously let my guard down. I went straight and less than half a kilometre down that track it turned from a gravel surface into wet grass, and then bog. I persevered for a few minutes and then realised I might have taken the wrong turn. The thoughts of going back was appalling. I looked back up the hill from where I had just come from. Going back uphill in this tired condition? Or straight on and follow the GPS to Belcoo, and a nice comfortable bed in a welcoming B&B? I kept going. Foolishly.

Within 200 metres I was hiking down through a field of clumps of reeds and marsh. Cattle had passed through here because the ground, being water-laden, was extremely rutted. In-between the clumps of reeds was water and muck. I ended up trying to go from one clump of reeds to the next, like stepping stones. And doing that, trying to balance with 30Kg on my back, was downright precarious. Every so often I would slip or misjudge and my foot would go down into a wet soggy hole in the ground. This could have been very dangerous so I was cautious not to go fast. If my weight was going forward and my leg got stuck in a hole my momentum could easily break my leg. I was now raging with myself. I should have been on an easy forest track down to the road but instead, tired and sore, I was here trying to battle my way through a marshy field full of mounds of reeds, in the middle of nowhere, getting close to dusk. But the body is a great thing. As I battled I suddenly realised that I wasn't actually tired anymore, and from concentrating on getting my footwork right, all pain was gone. That actually lifted my spirits and I felt better and better. I recall thinking that this was just another challenge thrown up by the whole expedition and I'd manage it. So I battled on and got to the end of the field, past the trees and out into an open flat grass field.

This was easier walking but I had no idea where I was. Some careful reading of the map, and looking where the sun was setting I figured out where I was. I should have been on the far side of a section of the forest, but there was no way I could make it through that - the Leylandii or Conifer trees were too close to each other and knitted together so going through them was not an option, no matter how many places I checked. More careful studying of the map and I realised that if I kept going down, close to the forest edge, I'd reach a track and that should take me back on the right route. I found the track and followed it until it came to a farmyard gate! I thought I must be in the wrong place but I asked a man working on his tractor the direction for Belcoo and he directed me through the farmyard and out onto a road. I was in the right place! When I got out on the road, I passed a house with people just getting in to their car. They were looking at me and smiling - almost laughing! As they passed me in their car they stopped and asked if I wanted a lift into Belcoo (about 3km away). I thanked them but declined the kind offer. They were very puzzled and offered again, asking if I was really sure, but I declined again. When they drove off I looked down at myself. My boots were completely covered in mud. My legs were covered in scrapes, bites and splattered with mud. My beige shorts were destroyed with mud, and I suspected my face was just as bad a mess! I must have been really exhausted looking for those kind people to even think about letting me into their car. I'm just sorry I was too tired to explain why I didn't want to take that lift.

With the forest excitement over, and the monotonous walking back, so too was the pain in my feet and legs. I was aware of each and every step. As I entered the town I passed the 60Km speed sign. The distance to the next speed sign - the 50Km, seemed to take forever, such was the effort with each and every step. I had pain in my toes, the ball of my foot, under my heal, across the top of my foot, in my ankles and my calf muscles. But my knees were fine, so I tried to concentrate on them. No use. With every step I felt every pain. Gradually I made it to the centre of the town. There was a pub with accommodation. It was a Monday night so I was confident of getting a bed. When I entered the pub, most heads turned and stared. The barman said "Sorry, all booked out". But there was a B&B back down the town. I struggled to that. "Sorry, full, and no, there's nowhere else in town. Try Blacklion?". The 1Km walk across the river to Blacklion was probably the toughest walk I have ever done. Not only sore and tired but now running out of options. I would pitch my tent on the village green, if they had a village green.

Entering the town I spotted "Accommodation". When the owner answered the door he told me they were full up. And, no, there was nowhere else in town. "Belcoo maybe?". I had it. Enough was enough. I couldn't walk across the street, never mind getting to a village green, not that they had one. I told him I was desperate and asked him if he had a grass surface out his back so I could pitch my tent. I told him I'd have breakfast in the morning and pay him whatever B&B charges he wanted! My desperation must have been obvious as he opened his side door to let me around the back. As I pitched my tent I groaned with the effort of bending my legs. The muscles were being stretched and squeezed. It was now almost dark and I was glad I just about made it in time. My plan was to get the tent up, boots off, sleeping bag out and just collapse into this luxurious palace. As soon as the tent was up and ready, the back door opened and the owner stuck his head out. "Would you take a room? Someone has just rung in and cancelled". I think I had the tent half down as I said "Yes, definitely, sure, thanks!". And as I gathered my stuff and walked towards him I asked "Does it have a bath?". Minutes later, as the hero owner was trying to show me the room I was, as politely as possible, ignoring him while turning bath taps and asking for a bowl of cornflakes and cold milk. I sat in the huge bath with water flowing out the overflow, eating a bowl of cornflakes, and hardly noticed the pain of the hot water on my tender skin. I relished that time in the bath.

When I lay in the bed, I knew I had done far too much that day. 31Km, carrying 30Kg up and down hills. For my colleagues in Sunshine House, you know how we struggle to give a child a jockey back from the beach up to the railway bridge? Well this was the equivalent of taking that child on a jockey back to Dublin! I worried about how my muscles would be in the morning. Would I be physically able to walk?

I expected an amount of endurance on the trip. I knew it would not be easy all the time. In fact I expected it to be difficult a lot of the time. Otherwise it's something that anybody could do and lots of people would do. For me, I wanted a challenge. Something that would be difficult in places. Something that would earn my own right to look back and feel I had achieved lots in overcoming some tough situations. As my weight in the bed pressed down on tender skin where the rucksack had pressed all day, I felt the pain and fell asleep within thirty seconds.

30th July 2007. Day three, Phase one.

Another day and another big breakfast, but this time in Loughshore B&B. I was relieved to see another sunny day. I am fine with walking in rain or other bad weather, but I just didn't want it at the start of my walking. John had bought a selection of goodies for me to eat while walking, and then Ann in the B&B, along with a sandwich I had asked her to make, kindly gave me even more supplies! I was glad for the selection because I didn't know when I might get my next decent meal. My plan was to walk for two days up the cliffs of Magho, along the Ulster Way across Lough Navar Forest, through Big Dog, Carrigan and Ballintempo Forests and get to Belcoo or Blacklion - two towns next to each other divided by the Belcoo river. I needed to bring enough food and water for two days, so the big selection of supplies was very helpful. Packing them into the bag was the problem.

In the week before the trip, I had packed my usual walking rucksack with the essentials and very quickly abandoned that for my bigger rucksack! With that packed I put it on while sitting on my bed. I struggled to my feet and with legs buckling, carefully lowered the ton-weight back to the bed and revisited my packing strategy. This time only the essential essentials were going in. The luxury of spare evening socks, jocks, t-shirts, etc. was abandoned for a lighter load. And even then the bag still weighed 16Kg or 2.5 stone! I thought long and hard about what I had to bring and this was the final list:

GPS & maps, batteries, small camera & charger, dictaphone & spare AAA batteries, sun cream & after-sun, wallet (Visa, money), towel, runners, tent, sleeping bag, groundsheet, radio, lighter, hat, torch, toiletries, cup, pot, cooker & gas, t-bags, container for milk, raingear (jacket & leggings), sunglasses, boots, shorts, socks, jocks, t-shirts, trousers, fleece, water and food. Try putting that in a bag and pick it up!

In Loughshore B&B I packed my rucksack and squeezed in whatever food I could manage. I left some fruit and biscuits behind and carried a few bottles of water - two in my hands, one in my pocket and a 1.5 litre bottle of water packed away . I had my Platypus water bottle filled in my rucksack and the tube from that coming out for easy access near my mouth. My plan was to leave that water in the platypus until last. I would drink the bottles first. I launched the rucksack onto my back. With the food and water it was now weighing easily 19Kg (3 stone). What a weight! I couldn't wait to get eating and drinking some of that load! I struggled down the stairs and said my goodbyes to Ann. She remarked on the large bag. Although the rucksack was a good one and could be tightened in all the right places, as I headed off down the road at 9:20am, I could feel the massive load bounce slightly and tug at my muscles - even those in my neck which were now getting a stretching! I hoped this unaccustomed load would not leave me with a headache later in the day. It was tough going but being used to hill-walking I knew the first twenty minutes would be the worst and then the body adapts to what is happening and deals with it. So I walked. Confidently.

I had about a half-mile walk down the road to the forest entrance, and the path that would take me up the cliffs of Magho. I wondered along the way if I would struggle to get up the cliff. The walk would be bad enough but what was to face me considering the path was closed due to a landslide? I had every intention of crossing that fence and giving it a go. In fact I was now looking forward to the challenge!


This was the Magho cliffs I had to ascend.





I got to the path, took a look around to make sure nobody was going to stop me, and scrambled over the gate with my heavy load and headed straight on up the path. It was fabulously quiet, and all shades of green with the sun streaking through small gaps in the leaves. I was particularly taken with the ferns that were rain-forest wet-looking with all the rain we had that Summer.

The path quickly turned to steps up the cliffs and, I assume because the path was officially closed, there were a number of places where there were branches and trees down across the path which had to be negotiated carefully. Usually I would bound across these obstacles, but with carrying about 19Kg on my back, a bottle of water in each hand and one in my pocket, and a bit of a steep slide down the hill, I had to be particularly careful to avoid loosing my balance. The going was good. It was difficult and I had to stop quite regularly to take a rest and catch my breath but it was quite enjoyable.

About half-way up the cliffs, I came to the landslide. The path consisted of steps made from sleepers and in two sections where the sleeper steps traversed a steep side of the hill, the ground had given way beneath and left just the sleepers sticking out! There were gaps between the sleepers with a drop below onto a very steep hill! I reckoned if a person were to fall you would hit earth a few feet below but then slide about 40 or 50 feet before a tree would break your fall (or you break the tree!). Now this WAS exciting!

I carefully made my way across the sleepers, remembering the heavy load on my back - I reckoned that would surely cause me great problems if we went! And then I carefully took a picture or two half-way across. No sudden movements. There were two of those crossing and then onwards and upwards!


It was slow progress going up but I was very much aware that I was making progress. Every so often I could get a view out on Lough Navar lake and the view was getting better each time. I finally made it to the top, smiling as I passed another "Path CLOSED" sign for those thinking of going down. The feeling of getting to that top was tremendous.

I sat for some time, looking out over the incredible view of Lough Navar, and pondered this journey. It was to be one of a great sense of achievement numerous times by just getting places, and this was one great place to be. My dictaphone recording says "I'm at the top at 10:10am, fantastic views, fantastic weather, feeling great!"

I checked my maps and started walking again. I walked for about an hour and then stopped for a break - a muffin and some water. It was hot and sunny so I changed into shorts and carried on. My plan was to stop about every hour for a five to ten minute break. The Ulster Way walk goes through these forests but I was trying to take a more direct line, so I cut out some of the official walk. I was pleased with my map-reading as I was able to get myself back on the Way when I deliberately took short-cuts. And it was just as well that I could read the map for the Walk was extremely badly marked. There were signposts now and then but not at all the critical points where there were turns. I walked as far as the Sillees River and stopped for lunch at about 1pm.


After about 30 minutes I put the bag back up on my back. I recall the pain at the pressure points where the bag was sitting on my lower back, thighs and shoulders. I left a small road and walked up to Conagher Forest. I was amazed at how badly the Ulster Way was left, with trees, a long time cut down, and left strewn across the walkway. It was extremely dangerous trying to cross them because I was walking on lots of broken sticks and there was a very real danger of twisting my ankle or getting imbedded on a sharp stick. If I didn't have the heavy rucksack, it wouldn't have cost me much thought but balancing was very difficult. I carefully made my way across the problem, which went on for about 1/4 mile!


I walked for the afternoon, up and down hills, through forests and around lakes ….. with all sorts of things biting my legs! Then at some stage, going along the very poorly maintained Ulster Way, my foot caught a thorny bramble and dragged it up along the back of my other leg! The pain! The blood! The annoyance! I took a picture of it in the next day or two. It was clean and healing at that stage! See also the bites on my legs in that picture.

I had planned to stop at about 6pm., put up the tent, eat some of the food I had lugged over the hills, and generally relax. From about 5:30pm I was somewhere between Carrigan and Ballintempo Forests, looking for a suitable place to pitch my tent. A piece of flat grassed area would have been ideal, but nothing was looking suitable. At about 6pm I stopped for a break. My legs were sore at this stage. The strain on my muscles was taking its toll. I was not used to carrying loads so the pain was getting very noticeable. I opened my rucksack to check how much water I had, and what I found horrified me! I only had a drop of water left! The most important thing on a long walk and I was effectively out of it! In the middle of nowhere, which now became dramatically remote as the realisation of my predicament set in. This was inexcusable. I have walked with groups many times before and one of the most important rules is to have sufficient water. And I was out. I could not believe it. I realised that the water I had intended to keep for the evening, and the next day was in my platypus, with the drinking tube conveniently close to my mouth. But when my other bottled water ran out, I had been sipping on the platypus for the afternoon. And now it was gone. I can only presume that while feeling sorry for myself during the afternoon, feeling my muscles getting more and more sore, I lost concentration on the requirement to ration my water. I was in trouble. I looked around, somehow hoping that I'd see a sign for a shop! I was on a forest track, surrounded by trees, with a map showing me that's all I'd find for kilometres in any direction and I was hoping I'd see a shop. Desperation.

This was the stage I was supposed to stop and rest for about fourteen or fifteen hours. My plan had been to stop at about 6pm. My muscles NEEDED to rest. I was exhausted. But I couldn't stop. I knew I had a small bottle of warm milk with me, planned for the nice evening time cup of tea. This was now my only liquid. What a dreadful mistake. This place was so remote I had only seen a couple of people all day, and none on the hills or in the forests. I had no mobile phone coverage. I thought about what might happen if I got stranded here, thirsty and with no liquid. Dehydration can take its toll. If I fell or had an accident it might be difficult to get help. Now was the time to dig deep, and concentrate. I picked up my bag, groaned with the effort of putting it on my back, winced when it rested on the now very sensitive pressure points - my skin felt raw, and I started walking.

29th July 2007. Day Two.

After a mighty big fry for breakfast, we left Groarty House in sunshine at 9am. The big breakfast was something that was to become a regular for the trip. The thinking behind it was that I needed to bulk up for the energy I was to burn up during the day, so bulk up I did, with the works wherever possible! - Full Irish, but no egg, and marmalade on my toast. We arranged where to meet later and John took a few photos as I headed down the driveway.

It was a clear, crisp morning so before long I was getting cold with the fast pace I was going and the cold air on my chest. I stopped to put on my jacket. Away again and I was going uphill. Got a bit hot so stopped to take off the jacket. A dark cloud moved towards me and within minutes the sunshine was gone and the rain started. Stopped, jacket on. All of maybe ten minutes later, the rain was gone, the sun was back, the heat picked up and ……… bike stopped, jacket off. When the rain started again ten minutes later, I decided enough was enough - and suffered through the rain knowing the heat wouldn't be far behind. And so it went. From rain to sun to drizzle to sun …….

It was easy to contend with a bit of rain! In fact the rain often cooled me down between the hot sunny spells. While lost in thought, peddling along a quiet country road, I was going past a very ordinary looking bungalow when out of the blue ….. well out of the doorway to be precise, a HUGE black and brown Doberman dog came bounding and barking towards me! All pleasant thoughts left me immediately and most of my 41 years flashed before my eyes - in the shape of snarling, growling, saliva dripping, gnashing teeth ….. the Grim Reaper was a Doberman, and was effectively reaching for my throat when his own throat felt a tightening.

The chain caught him and yanked him back to ground. A chain - the best invention in the world at that particular moment. Give thanks for chains. I dropped a few gears and peddled on. Then came back and took a picture, much to the annoyance of Grim!

I pressed on up and over Holywell Hill, and when coming down at tremendous speed into Kildrum, my GPS popped up and out of its holding on my handlebar. It wobbled briefly before disappearing down under the bike with the horrifying sound of "bang, crash, and bits all over the road". I was grabbing for my brakes while looking behind to watch all the pieces, and managed to stop the bike without falling off. I went back and collected all the bits. Initially I was worried sick. I needed this equipment to get me down the country. In the previous two years, when travelling the country, I had logged various critical points into the GPS as waypoints. This equipment was vital. I was somewhat relieved to see the retrieved bits consisted of all essential parts - the body, the batteries and the battery cover. Nothing seemed to be actually broken - just some damage on the body cover. I put it all together, pressed the "On" button and the screen flickered into life. A tense wait for a few second and then the perfect map flashed up on the screen! The relief! That Magellan Meridian Colour handheld GPS can take a fair bang on a tarmac road and still go strong! It's still working fine today. I realised it was from pulling my handlebar bag forward that it unclipped the GPS. No more pulling the handlebar bag …..





On to Saint Johnstown, and a rendezvous with John, a strawberry Yop and a banana. Nice little town. Short, maybe five minute break and then back on the bike. I took Cycle Route 92, which is on small roads, with little traffic, especially on a Sunday. Through Ballindrait and on to Clady, for another rendezvous and short break. The next stage was a very straight road, up and over Fearn Hill and down into Castlederg, where we planned to have lunch.
But that road up to Fearn Hill was a "killer"! It didn't look that steep on the map but …… for some reason (probably gravity) I really struggled with it. It was a small road so very little traffic. I went from side to side, to try to reduce the vertical effort. The perspiration dripped down my face, and each time I looked up I could see John waiting patiently at the top. Just waiting to take the photo. I had to put on a brave face, albeit a sweaty one! I grinded and grinded, leg muscles solid with effort, the sun beating down …. and a photo opportunity ahead! I stopped a couple of times, maybe a few times, for a rest but eventually got there.

A drink and a quick discussion with agreement on just how steep that hill was, and I was off again. John went ahead to check out what was on offer for lunch. As I got to Castlederg, John was waiting in his car to greet me and gladly tell me that a place had just opened for Sunday lunch and we could park my bike and his car around the back in full view from a window in the restaurant. I think I had roast chicken and ham, and a big banoffi for desert! We studied the maps carefully as there were two routes to get to Pettigoe - the long and flat cycle route 95 or the straight and steep B72 road through a valley and up Crockalaghta. We discussed the merits of both options at some length, but at the back of my mind all the time was ….. the challenge. I think it was always going to be the straight and steep route!

Back to the bike and the decision was made - straight and steep - see you at the top! John drove off and I cycled. There was about 8km of reasonably flat road before I got to the steep part. The scenery was pleasant, with trees both sides of the road. A low gear, head down and away I went. Maybe two stops, but surprisingly quickly I could see John's car parked up ahead. I wondered if he was stopping to give me encouragement half way up. But a few more pedals and just beyond him the road was dropping down again, and I could see my turn off to the right. I was there - at the top. No bother!

John took this photo from his moving car! -

It wasn't long before I got to Pettigo - more Yop and a cereal bar, sitting in John's car, and then on to the road North of Lower Lough Erne. It lashed rain for a few minutes and then back to sun. We rendezvoused at a car park for a few minutes rest and photos.

I was feeling great. I was well ahead of schedule, I felt fine-and-fit, and there was only a relatively short section around Lough Erne to the B&B. I had rung the B&B at lunchtime to tell them I was a day ahead of schedule. I was glad to hear it was no problem - I had a bed for the night! There was still about another 14km to go but that was easy now. One more brief stop at the Rosscor viaduct bridge and shortly after, at 5pm and 94km, I arrived at the Loughshore B&B. John was already there. The owner Ann kindly gave me a cup of tea and showed great interest in my adventure! John had to travel back to Dublin that night so we packed my bike and cycling equipment into his car, for him to send to Limerick when he got back to Dublin. I waved goodbye to John, disappointed to see him go, and knowing full well that this disappointment would get worse as the evening wore on and I was left alone. Oh NO!!!! I just remembered ….. I left my credit card and cash in my cycling bag …… a dash upstairs to my phone …… and John was back a few minutes later. Credit card and cash retrieved, I waved goodbye again! Imagine the trouble if I didn't have phone coverage just then ….. John would have gone back to Dublin, and I would have been severely stuck without any means of payment for the following days! Marvellous mobiles!


Ann in Loughshore B&B (on the A46 between Belleek and Enniskillen) made a wonderful salad for me that evening. She offered to make a bigger meal for me but I don't eat much in the evenings! It's a great B&B, if you're ever passing. And I needed a nice salad. John had been with me through all this new adventure for the past two full days. His assistance and company was terrific. Now the country got very very quiet. A bit too quiet. I watched telly and went to bed early. I was thinking of the following day. I was looking forward to what the walking might bring. The plan was for four days of walking up the cliffs of Magho, along the Ulster Way across Lough Navar Forest, through Big Dog, Carrigan and Ballintempo Forests, followed by the entire Cavan Way to Dowra. From now on I didn't have any accommodation booked. I was to carry my tent and hope for the best. But my first challenge was something that had been playing on my mind for about a week. When I had been up this way about a week earlier to leave my walking gear in this Loughshore B&B, I had seen a sign at the start of the walk up the Magho cliffs. It said "PATH CLOSED due to landslide. NO ENTRY".

If I couldn't get up those cliffs, looking at the map and not knowing the area, I might have an extra day's walking to get around the problem. I went to sleep pondering over the morning's predicament, wondering if I would take heed of the warning sign …….. All will be revealed, next week!

28th July, 2007. Day one, Phase two

Peddling along the country roads, I settled very quickly into a comfortable rhythm. It was sunny and calm but not too warm - a big change to the thunder and showers predicted. I had agreed with John that I would meet him in Malin town (13km). We both knew, from experience, that this part of the journey would involve us meeting regularly along the trip. The plan for today was to travel 54km to Groarty House B&B in Derry City. Initially, with the car journey up to Donegal, I had hoped to ease into my trip and cycle just 38km as far as Carrowkeel (Quigley's Point), but the few B&B's in that area were booked out due to a golf tournament. The next nearest B&B en route was Groarty House.

I wanted to avoid main roads as far as possible, so shortly after my start I veered off the "main road" to Malin town and took a smaller road. I could see from the map that this was over a hill but it wasn't too steep. As I struggled up the hill I was taken by the silence. My training for this cycling was on Dublin City streets, but never out to country roads. The country silence was noticeably different and I enjoyed and appreciated that numerous times during my expedition. Before long I was over the hill and careering down into Malin town. When I got there John was waiting at his car.



I stopped for a quick chat and a drink of water. Some men that John had met up in Malin Head, who had rushed over to him as soon as I left to enquire about where I might be going, came out of a shop and wished me luck. They also suggested that maybe we were going to throw the bike in the car at the first opportunity! Huh! John and I made arrangements to meet at a later stage and I headed off. Everything was just fine, the logistics were sorted, the plan was coming together, I was on my way out of the town without a care in the world. Life was great, and I was peddling. Somebody whistled loudly ….. a kind of a warning whistle. In these cycling shorts I expected maybe an odd wolf whistle, but this was no wolf whistle. Definitely a warning whistle. I looked around to see if by any chance it was directed at me and there was John pointing inquisitively at another direction to mine. I looked at the road sign and "Oh nooooo ….". I turned the bike around and as nonchalantly as possible tried to make it look like I was just exploring that side of town before taking the proper route. Before me was an expedition of many miles on roads, across mountains, lakes, rivers …… and I had taken the wrong turning in the very first little town! How embarrassing. Pedal Seamus, pedal.







Are all weapons not decommissioned yet? That child has a gun!

Next stop was Muff, where I met John and had a banana and strawberry Yop.


I had noticed that during training for this cycling, when I was cycling from Dublin Port, around Howth Head, and back to my house in Clontarf, that a banana and Yop were a perfect snack mid-route. Tasty and sweet. I had noticed that I felt drained by the time I got home if I had chocolate. I reckon it gives you a quick sugar high but is followed by a quick low. That's my tip to you budding adventurers.

Back on the bike and in to Derry City. This was back to the horrible traffic, just like back in Dublin. The quietness of the country roads very quickly shattered - particularly so when some lads driving past let a roar at me out of their passenger window! Just for the fun I presume! I had a GPS mounted on the bike so followed that through the unfamiliar streets, and from an Ordnance Survey map I could see there was a hill to climb to get to the B&B. And what a hill. This was a killer, so late in the day. Looking back on the cycling part of the trip it was probably the third steepest hill. And that wasn't the only problem. The part of the City I was going through reminded me of certain parts of Dublin - the tougher parts. Except maybe perched on the steep side of Howth Head. So here I was, struggling to get up the hill but there was NO WAY I was going to stop. I was aware of people looking curiously at me but I was keen not to make eye contact with them. But with their peaked caps and hoodies, maybe that eye contact wasn't possible but I wasn't taking the chance anyway. So I peddled as hard as I could, as hard as that was. It seemed to take for ages, but eventually I was leaving suburbia and back onto a country road. Like leaving Jobstown for the Dublin Mountains. The GPS was telling me to keep going another couple of kilometres and the legs were telling me you've had enough. Peddle, peddle, peddle and there it was - Groarty House B&B (62 Groarty Road), at 7:30pm. A sanctuary in Derry!

John's car was there but no sign of John. It turned out there were two roads to this place and John reckoned I was on the other so he headed off to take photos of me arriving. I was relieved to hear the other road was just as steep! Stuart, a boy of nine or ten, efficiently took charge of welcoming me to the B&B, allowed me to park my bike around the back, and showed me to my room. He then enquired as to what time I wanted breakfast and told me that would be fine! His baby-sitter was in the background but he was in charge here!

John and I marvelled at the tremendous view of Derry City (my legs paid the pain for that view!), watched television for a short while and then dozed off. Day 1 - started and done. 52km. I was really happy that this expedition, so long in the planning , was actually happening.

Tomorrow's plan was to bring me 50km as far as Castlederg. But I had done 52 km in three hours today! I wondered if I could do more and get ahead ……… zzzzzzz

28th July 2007. Day one, Phase one.

A slight thud.

You would hope to avoid, but you'd possibly expect a slight thud at some stage during an expedition. An expedition that would be fraught with danger. Sure isn't that what an expedition is all about? Otherwise it's just a trip. But this was an expedition, and before it even started, there was a slight thud. I was sitting safely at the kitchen table in my mother's house when my brother John landed a magnum of Champagne on the table ... with a slight thud.

The HUGE bottle of Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin sat temptingly on the green and white shiny surface. It almost covered the patch that was burned out of the table with an iron many years ago. That patch is older than me, and might well outlive me, but I had other plans for the beautiful beautiful bottle. We could pop it open there and then, cancel all plans for the day and enjoy each and every bubble in good company. But there was a catch. The bottle was not to be opened until I returned safely from my expedition. The disappointment almost hit me with a slight thud, but instead it turned into more encouragement and more drive to complete an expedition that was years and years in the planning. The route was to take me by bike from Malin Head through Donegal to Fermanagh, walking across Lough Navar Forest, Big Dog Forest and Carrigan Forest to Blacklion, walk the Cavan Way to Dowra, kayak down the Shannon to Limerick, and cycle on to Mizen Head in Cork. All by human effort alone. Why? I couldn't really answer that then, but I think I can now. All that later.

Irene and Richie - my aunt and uncle, along with Irene's sister Ruthie, had travelled all the way from Boston to see me off. …. OK, they happened to be in Dublin that morning, but probably would have travelled from Boston otherwise. My sister Cecilia and her husband Brendan also called in so there was plenty of people about. John and I packed his car with my bike and belongings, as he was to drive me to Malin Head. I said my goodbyes to family, sensing their great fear and anxiety that this might end in trouble.
I did my best to reassure them that I would be safe but the truth is I really didn't know how this might go. Somewhere in my mind I was concerned about cycling on small country roads with fast cars, concerned about injury while walking alone up hills, concerned about kayaking across large open waters ……. but thankfully I had put this to the back of my mind. However, the sense of fear emanating from my family at this critical time was beginning to bring all my concerns to the fore. I was getting jitters. I needed to get going. If you don't just venture out there, you won't go. I like the expression "Just Do It". It was now time. We went. I hoped I wasn't going to disappoint my family by getting injured. I thought "I'd better take care".

We went about half a mile when I suddenly exclaimed to John "WAIT! I've left my cycling runners at home!" I had been packing all my gear for the past few weeks but I could not remember putting those runners into the bag. Disaster. I knew I had left them out in my house before travelling to my mother's house but had not packed them. John stopped the car and I went to the boot to confirm that they had been left behind. We would have to drive back to my house. I opened the bag and there they were. Packed, and ready. Panic over. A sheepish return to the front seat of the car. The mind was playing tricks!

As we drove to Donegal, it gave me LOTS of time to think. John and I chatted about various things but most of the time my mind was on the trip. It was easy to think about things that could go wrong, like something breaking on my bike, or my kayak getting stolen, or loosing a vital tent peg somewhere up the hills ….. it began to get to the ridiculous stage. I'm not normally the worrying type. Usually my attitude is "Go out and do it and deal with whatever might happen", but this time I started worrying. Not about getting injured but about a logistical hiccup with disastrous consequences for the trip. I think it was because so many people knew about this trip - I had informed people by direct contact, e-mail and text. And lots were to track my progress. My biggest fear now became "how embarrassing if something stupid happens"!! I longed to get on the bike and get going.

We stopped for lunch at The Magnet Bar, just past Derry, where John had a gammon steak and I had the Magnet Burger (don't worry - you won't see every receipt!). With thoughts of the trip before me, I wasn't hungry and found it quite tasteless but I knew I'd need the food for energy later so polished it all off. We continued on our journey and made it to a calm and sunny Malin Head at about 4pm.

Changing facilities are limited but I managed to change into my cycling gear in an old derelict concrete building while John put the bike together. There's very little at Malin Head other than an old derelict weather station, but there was a considerable number of people about - even a small traffic jam!


As John was to travel by car to our planned stop in a Derry B&B that night I didn't have to carry much. I quickly packed some essentials in a bag and was ready to go! No trumpets, no fanfare, just a few curious onlookers. Part of me was embarrassed, but part of me wanted to announce to the world MY EXPEDITION IS STARTING!! Instead, I posed for a photo or two for John, said "See you in a while" and away I went. Freewheeling down the steep hills from Malin Head I felt wonderful. In those first few hundred meters everything was coming together. The bike was working, the weather was perfect, I hadn't forgotten anything, I had the well wishes of family and friends. I was on my way!!
That little yellow dot in the centre of the picture is me!

I intend to post a new piece about once-a-week. Any thoughts, views, opinions? Please get commenting!