Go Walk: Slemish Mountain, Co Antrim

He was a scholar, saint, visionary and missionary who achieved worldwide acclaim as our national apostle, but could he also be Ireland’s first hillwalker and, perhaps, even rockclimber? Certainly, his association with our high places is unquestionable.

Tradition holds that with heroic indifference to the pagan rituals of Irish royalty, St Patrick defied the King of Tara by ascending the Hill of Slane and lighting a Pascal fire. Later he scrambled up the Rock of Cashel to baptise the King of Munster, while also reputedly finding time to establish a monastery atop Ardpatrick hill, Co Limerick and to fast for 40 days on Croagh Patrick summit.

One thing is, of course, certain – if Patrick really was an avid climber, he would certainly not have undertaken ascents for leisure purposes. Canny marketeer that he undoubtedly was, he would clearly have understood the powerful imagery associated with the highest places and been aware of their unmatched ability to evoke the necessary reverence and awe required to position a new single-god belief system in a strongly pagan society.

Perhaps he came to understand this powerful symbolism while working as a swineherd on the slopes of an Antrim hillside after he was captured in Britain and carried into slavery.

Slemish mountain is a steep prominence with an odd shape that unerringly grabs the eye and is now the focal point of an annual St Patrick’s Day pilgrimage. For several years it had been on my most wanted to climb list, but somehow I never got around to climbing it. Now, however, I am in the Slemish Visitor Centre carpark with the 60 million year old volcanic bubble towering intimidatingly above.

It’s a Saturday afternoon and surprising numbers of walkers and family groups are either heading for or returning from Slemish. Initially, the path leads upwards at a sympathetic angle towards the mountain that every schoolchild associates with Ireland’s patron saint. Soon, however, the smooth grasslands are behind and I find myself scrambling skywards over disobliging basalt that requires the skills of easy grade scrambling to overcome the difficulties.

The advantage of a steep gradient is, however, that height is gained rapidly. Unlike a Kerry hill, where an ascent that appears like an hour invariably takes two, Slemish relents with surprising ease. Having mentally estimated an hour to the top I am pleased to find myself on the summit plateau in half that time.

Swinging right along the broad whaleback eminence I reach the naked stones of the summit and magnificent 360-degree views with the sleeping giant of Cave Hill lying sentinel above Belfast Lough to the south. Northwards is the great sweep of the Antrim plateau and beyond the gleam of the ancient sea of Moyle where the Children of Lir reputedly spent 300 years having been transformed into swans by – you guessed it – a wicked stepmother.

It’s a timeless and evocative vista bounded by the misty outline of distant Scottish mountains and, with just a small stretch of the imagination, pre-Christian farmers could be once again tending their flocks in the valleys below.

Atop the ageless stones I sit back and just let slow motion time drift by on silent diaphanous wings – as Patrick may have done a millennia and a half previously – until the call of the 21st century becomes too strong to ignore. Rousing myself reluctantly, I continue along the plateau with the lordly Sperrin Mountains dominating the skyline to the west.

Where the plateau dives into a series of vertiginous cliffs I swing right and downhill to follow a steep, rather indistinct track that again demands some scrambling skills to ensure a safe descent. Once back on the lush green sward, however, the going becomes straightforward and enjoyable. Now it’s just a question of enjoying the warm spring sunshine and following the arrows of the Antrim Hills Way back to my parking place.