ROVING WRITERS: In the first of a new series - in which Irish Times writers turn tourists in their own land - Arminta Wallace takes a bracing but beautiful walk in the Knockmealdown and Comeragh mountains.
Ireland. Holiday. Walking. Now what are we missing? Ah, yes. Rain - preferably by the bucketload. I drive to west Waterford in early spring sunshine, and arrive at my B&B to find it surrounded by twinkling mountains; the soft tops of the Comeraghs to the east, the sharper peaks of the Knockmealdowns to the west. I pull on my trousers and boots, zip up my jacket - and step out into a relentless downpour. Not a shower, mind. A deluge. Did somebody say "walking weekend"? It would be enough to make you weep - if there wasn't quite enough water running down your face already, thanks very much. How about a weekend indoors with an Ed McBain book? But no. Here is my guide, sloshing his way across the car park with hand outstretched. We synchronise our hoods and set off.
You've heard it said of people that they know a place like the back of their hand? Well, Michael Desmond knows the Nire Valley better than that - and listening to him talk about it is like looking at the back of your own hand and realising that you've never really seen it before. This, he explains, is the place where Waterford meets Tipperary, sandstone meets limestone, tillage meets dairy farming - and, once upon a time, the lands of the Ormond family met those of the Desmonds in what was often a violent and deadly fault-line.
A spot in the smudged sky becomes a crucial mountain pass guarded by Flemish mercenaries. A curved stone bridge prompts the story of a child rescued from a flooded river - a child who grew up to be the scientist Robert Boyle, of Boyle's Law fame. Even the dripping hedges are full of treasure, as far as Michael is concerned: an improbably exotic dog violet; a wild sorrel leaf which tastes of lemons and rain.
The Comeragh Mountains are named for their glacial origins: the word coum means "hollow", and the heights above us are full of jewel-like corrie lakes. On a clear day you can see Lugnaquilla from the Comeragh Mountains - but only, says Michael, in February, and only when the weather is just right. Today, we're not even going to see the Comeragh Mountains from the Comeragh Mountains.
By the time we get to a place which isn't named Wind Gap by accident we are, somewhat glumly, discussing the pros and cons of plastic trousers. My boots have filled up with water; it's like walking in two bags full of cold porridge. We have been out for two hours on a day when no one in their right mind would go out for two minutes. We shake numb hands and retreat into the great indoors.
Back at Glasha Farmhouse my indefatigable landlady, Olive O'Gorman, goes into mountain rescue mode. Dripping clothes and muddy boots are whisked away to be dried; by the time I struggle upstairs, soup and brown bread have materialised on a tray at the end of my bed. Glasha is the kind of place I suspect you'd always be glad to come home to.
My room contains everything the weary walker always needs, but hardly ever gets: proper tea and coffee-making gear complete with cappuccino-sized blue cups and a basket of nibble-sized chocolate bars; bottles of water, still and sparkling; a large wall mirror with a plug right underneath for drying hair and, joy of joys, a proper hairdryer instead of those unspeakable abominations which don't work unless you hold your finger on the damn button all the time.
Walking groups are a speciality at Glasha, but if you're thinking of losing weight on a hiking weekend, forget it. Home baking is another house speciality and trust me, you won't be able to resist a) the apple and raisin muffins, b) the walnut and courgette bread, and c) the tiny scones, so small you just have to have two at a time.
Breakfast, laid out in a conservatory overlooking the garden, is a delight - or a dilemma? Cranberry, apple and freshly-squeezed orange juice, rhubarb compote, prunes with apricot, fresh strawberries, home-made apple muesli, natural, flavoured and probiotic yogurt, farmhouse cheeses and heaps of the aforementioned breads, and that's just for starters. Come dinner-time, you can be tucking into rack of lamb, poached monkfish, fresh almond and raspberry roulade. You get the picture.
Sunday morning dawns sunny and bright, and at five minutes before the appointed time a white van marked "Mountaincraft" swings smartly into the drive.
Donal Bray is a qualified mountain skills instructor who runs weekend route-planning and map-reading courses for hill-walkers of all abilities. His philosophy is that the best way to avoid navigational problems while walking is to avoid getting lost in the first place.
He suggests a hike up Knockmealdown Peak - at 794 metres, the highest in Co Waterford and a walk of about four hours. We drive to the Vee Gap and head upward, the Golden Vale lurking greenly below us. On the peaks all around, showers chase back and forth, an ever-changing play of light and shadow and water.
The summit of Knockmealdown boasts an unlovely concrete bollard and a view of ... well. On a clear day you can see forever, but we just about get a glimpse of the Blackwater snaking its silver way to the sea at Youghal before fog drifts in.
Donal, unfazed, finds a sheltered spot and proceeds to make a cup of tea while we wait for clearer weather. The fog, of course, has other ideas. It swirls and curls and thickens until there is nothing to be seen at all except occasional glimpses of ground and sky.
Still unfazed, Donal gets out his compass - and gets a glint in his eye. Instead of retracing our steps, why don't we do his favourite walk, a hike across country to Mount Melleray Abbey, which will take just an hour more? Urghf, I say. On the other hand, what more appropriate way to arrive at a monastery than on foot, fresh from the mountain, pilgrim's staff clutched in frozen fist? We synchronise set off down the heathery hillside as the fog, outraged, hurls hailstones into our faces.
Then, without warning, it melts away - and far below a wide, sunlit saddle curves between mountains to the left and the sea away to the right. It is, quite literally, breathtaking.
The rest of our descent is a merry jaunt across grassy uplands and along forest paths, following a stream which makes its way into a series of pretty ponds at Mount Melleray. Later, when we look back at where we've come from, the peaks are covered with a light dusting of snow. On a walking scale of one to 10, west Waterford clocks in somewhere in the high nines.
Sure, you can go hiking in Andalucía or on a beach in the Canaries. I've done it, and it's very pleasant indeed. But you can't get into your car and drive there in three hours: and it'll cost you a sight more than the €125 per person sharing you'll pay for a weekend at Glasha Farmhouse - two nights' B&B and one evening meal - at this time of year. I drive back with my head full of mountains. Rain? What rain?
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LET'S GO FOR A LITTLE WALK ...The number for Glasha Farmhouse (above) is 052-36108. For information on weekend mountain skills courses contact Donal Bray at 087-6855073.
The Nire Valley Walking Festival (www.nirevalleyfailte.com) takes place each October: three days of graded walks with plenty of après-walk socialising to boot. For those who prefer a short stroll, try the leafy Glenshelane River Walk at Cappoquin or the Ballysaggartmore Towers Walk just outside Lismore.
itself is an amiable place to while away an afternoon, with more churches and cathedrals than you could shake a stick at, the luxuriant gardens of Lismore Castle and the newly-planted town centre park. Travel writing fans take note: the only travel-writing festival in the country takes place here from June 18th to 24th. Info from 058-54975.
For a seriously memorable culinary experience, treat yourself to dinner at Richmond House, outside Cappoquin (058-54278). Or go the whole hog and stay there for the weekend; rates for two nights' B&B and one dinner range from €160 to €250 pps. Fab food in a gorgeous country house: worth every cent.
Need some retail therapy? Get yourself down the road to which is well supplied with boutiques and craft shops: or which is - alas for your credit card - within all-too-easy reach of the Nire Valley.