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The Irish Caminos: stunning St Finbarr's Path is the result of ‘volunteers scraping, working, sweating together'
Standing at the beginning of St Finbarr's Path overlooking Drimoleague in
west Cork
, David Ross thinks of the countless numbers who have stood there before him over more than 1,000 years to begin the pilgrimage to Gougane Barra.
The tradition of St Finbarr has deep roots throughout Cork, but especially in west Cork: 'He stood here at the top of the rock in the fifth century and called on the people to return to Christ,' says Ross.
Each September 25th, or the days before, the faithful from both sides of the Cork and Kerry border – 'from Macroom, from Kilgarvan, from Bantry, from Kilnamartyra' – made, and still make, their way over the mountains to the little church at the lake.
Since 2008 walkers – some religious, many unaware of the connection with the saint – have travelled St Finbarr's path, beginning just metres away from the farm where Ross and his wife, Elizabeth, run a popular glamping and tenting business.
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The ancient path was brought back to life in 2008, with the co-operation of local landowners, dedicated volunteers, and some modest State funding, though it began with a thought from Denis 'Dinny' Leary.
In 1996 O'Leary, who was reared beside Ross before moving to Skibbereen, told the latter of his desire to make his way to Gougane 'on a white horse in the manner in which my parents did before me'.
'We didn't have an awful lot of knowledge growing up about pilgrimages, or anything like that, but he was a lovely friend of the family, and he asked to be started on his journey with a prayer,' says Ross, who is from a Protestant background and is now a Pentecostal preacher.
David Ross
The path begins on a military track used to hurry British soldiers to Bantry in the 1790s as fears grew in London of a French invasion, before cutting into a hedge and tree-lined path, passing an acre put aside by Ross for wild chicory beloved by finches.
Within minutes walkers reach the joining of the Ilen and Clodagh rivers, the former just a fraction of the size it will be by the time it reaches Skibbereen farther south, passing over the water on stepping stones.
Often walkers call into the well-known Glenilen yoghurt business, run by Alan and Glen Kingson and nearly 90 staff, before making their way across fields towards the long-abandoned 16th Castle Donovan.
St Finbarr's Pilgrim Way. Photograph: Valerie O'Sullivan
The castle, a tower house, served as the seat of the O'Donovans until it was attacked by Cromwellian forces, although the family moved to the coast after they won back some of their lands after King Charles II was restored to the English throne.
Telling the story of the castle, a descendant, Donal O'Sullivan recounts the life of Donal of the Skins, so named because he survived an attack on the castle when he slept soundly beneath animal skins, where he had been hidden by his mother.
Today the castle has been saved from further deterioration by the
Office of Public Works
, which was given the building in trust some 25 years ago by today's head of the clan, a lawyer living in London.
From there walkers turn left, taking the old bog road to Glanacholy, the Glen of the Stones, appropriately capped, as it were, by the largest stone of all, which leans precipitously over walkers as they pass by.
On a sunny day – and it is the sunniest of days – the extraordinary landscape of west Cork opens up, with everything from Galley Head on the Clonakilty side to Cape Clear, Fastnet, even Mizen.
The bench at 'Owen's Kitchen'
Lunch beckons, with nowhere more fitting than the wooden bench at Owen's Kitchen, built to honour the memory of a local man, Owen O'Sullivan, who helped create the walking route 'and who loved this spot'.
A long, steady, tiring climb follows as the path wends a circuitous route to the top, before falling away again as it descends into the Mealagh Valley, once one of the most remote parts of the island, even though it is just 10km from Bantry.
Blessed with a succession of standing stones, the valley is flanked by the Maughanaclea Hills to the north and the slopes of Mullaghmesha to the south, the latter bringing walkers down to the valley's floor.
From there walkers progress for several kilometres, passing the local community centre, where Dublin-born Eleanor Fitzgerald, who has lived in the valley since the late 1980s, is there to offer greetings.
Fiercely proud of her adopted place, Fitzgerald has been involved with the community centre since it began in the 1990s, when it was housed in a lorry container before it got a permanent home in 2012.
Even then, locals had thought ahead, ensuring that the toilets and showers could be accessed directly from outside: 'The hope is that it can be used by hillwalkers as they pass by,' says Fitzgerald.
So far neither the toilets nor showers are required for walkers, since the numbers – despite its extraordinary beauty and welcoming locals – are not there, largely down to a lack of promotion of long-distance walking by State authorities.
The Mealach Valley, or honey in English, has welcomed outsiders for generations, says Fitzgerald, pointing to the South African-born Melanie O'Sullivan, who 'married a local lad' and is now principal of the valley's national school.
'She went back to college and did university-standard Irish,' says Fitzgerald. 'They were happy to let her sub without it, but she had to have Irish for a full-time job. And she feckin' did it. I have huge respect for her.'
With a jar of home-produced honey accepted, the journey to Kealkill begins, finishing after a few kilometres on quiet country roads marked with frequent signs protesting against plans to build wind farms.
Just outside Kealkill, walkers usually leave the path to cross a field to view the Bronze Age axial five-stone circles, which were excavated in 1938 but are still the subject of archaeologists' debate.
John and Mary McCarthy
In the village below, a conversation is quickly organised with local community stalwarts John and Mary McCarthy ('she's one of the Kelleher McCarthys', says local publican Mags Collins as she searches for a mobile number).
The work led by the local community, helped by Cork County Council, is a source of pride: 'We're finished with the tracks. We have all the walking loops, and we're okay that way at this stage.
'All of these walks were started by volunteers, scraping, working, sweating together to make it work,' says John, offering a polite signal that such communities need to be respected by national authorities.
The second day opened with light rain that became progressively heavier. If the weather is harder, so too is the journey over the Shehy mountains. It's not for solo inexperienced walkers or poorly equipped ones of any type.
Passing Carrignass Castle, the home of the O'Sullivan Bearas, walkers follow the slowly ascending road and on to Knockbrettin, offering views across Bantry Bay on a clear day. But not today.
In the heavy rain it is difficult even to spot the well-identified waymarkers that have each received a fresh daub of yellow paint from committee members at the beginning of the walking season.
A long straight track to Maugha follows, surrounded on both sides by bogs, before reaching the halfway point on the second day at the Sos Barra shelter, before taking the sharp ascent into Lackabhaun.
Several hours later the brow of the mountain is finally passed and the land below opens up to offer a rainbow-tinted sight of Gougane Barra and the pub, and later the hotel, which has been there for a century.
Neil Lucey, the fifth generation to be in charge of the business, is fiercely proud of the community, but voices the frustration felt by many that State agencies are seeking to control rather than co-operate with motivated volunteers.
'We get what the agencies need to do, and what they have to be careful about, but they don't recognise that volunteerism and the community aspect are important parts of the structure, and how we do things,' he says.
Local farmers have stayed committed to the project, he says, even when State grants collapsed after the economic crash: 'They were doing all of that, without getting a bob for it,' he says.
Payments have resumed, but they will make no one rich. 'They are getting so much per metre, but they are doing it because they believe in it, because they're working with their neighbours trying to create something.
'They're great,' he says. 'They respected what we've been trying to achieve over the years on the land, on bringing people to see places like this. And they see the benefit of it. They really love it.'
