The survival of rural walking tourism requires a new partnership with farmers, writes John G. O'Dwyer.
Rambling near Westport some time ago, I came upon an English couple who enquired about crossing some fields to reach Croagh Patrick. "I don't think anybody will stop you," I replied rather evasively, drawing on my own boyhood experiences of Tipperary, when nobody sought permission to cross private land.
In those uncomplicated times, you rambled where you fancied and so did everybody else. Anyway, I guessed I was on safe ground. Brussels bureaucrats have, these days, tired of the costly convolutions of agricultural subsidies and are now happy to watch farmers replaced by machines and factory-style cattle sheds. Chance meetings in the Irish countryside are, consequently, now a rarity.
"But are you sure?" the woman persisted. "Back home you don't just climb over the fence into somebody's field." Now she had me. Despite more than 20 years hillwalking in Ireland, the plain fact is I have little idea which parts, if any, of our rural areas are legally accessible.
Maybe I shouldn't worry. After all, it is not only farmers who are now scarce on the ground. The possibility of again meeting international visitors while rambling the Irish countryside is also becoming remote. In a period when overseas visitors to Ireland almost doubled, Fáilte Ireland estimates that the number of hikers and hillwalkers actually fell from 322,000 in 1993 to 266,000 in 1999.
By 2002, this figure had fallen further to 219,000. Last year, walking tourism appeared to lose its way completely, with the number of overseas walkers dropping a massive 23 per cent to 168,000. If Rural Affairs Minister Eamon Ó Cuív were a mountain leader, he would now surely be calling in a rescue team to find out what has become of those missing walkers.
So why are overseas walkers an endangered species? The conventional wisdom is, of course, that the problem is due entirely to shillelagh-wielding farmers trenchantly denying walkers access. Such views may have been reinforced by the apparent lack of consensus emerging from the recent meeting of the Countryside Recreation Council in Portlaoise, with farmer groups continuing to insist that walkers seek permission to cross private land.
For many, this will again have positioned farmers in the unwelcome role of national spoilsports, but few such people will have stopped to consider that it is actually agricultural activity which maintains the countryside in a state for walkers to enjoy.
Find this hard to believe? Then imagine a landscape where rough mountain grassland is almost universally replaced by uncomfortable knee-high heather. Imagine the lower slopes of our mountains covered by dense impenetrable forests of hazel, willow and birch, without any of the rustic lanes, bridle paths and gateways which at present allow ramblers access the hill country. Then visualise the unthinkable - the entire limestone escarpments of the Burren disappearing beneath forest.
Difficult to imagine? Nevertheless, without sheep on our mountains and cattle on the Burren, this is exactly the land we would have - and may indeed have again. Already there are signs that a decline in livestock on the Burren is allowing some of the area return to its original state - a dense hazel forest. Now we are told that with the decoupling from production of EU farm subsidies, there will be little incentive to farm marginal or mountain land and the danger exists that it may return to its original unused and inaccessible state.
Meanwhile, when it comes to rural tourism, farmers have been consigned to the wings while growing numbers of visitors happily pay to fish, hunt, enter heritage sites and even park. The one exception is rambling over farmland, where nobody seeks permission, everybody assumes access is free and few, if any, economic benefits arise for the farming community.
Agricultural experts are now telling us that output outside of the most intensively farmed areas is likely to decline, leaving many farmers with reduced income and much spare time. Rural areas will require employment opportunities, which draw on existing skill-sets developed within agriculture. A dynamic walking tourism sector should create many opportunities for such skills transfer.
Farmers could be offered employment in developing and maintaining walking routes. Others will have a deep fund of knowledge of local flora, fauna, heritage and folklore handed down over generations. These farmers could become area guides, leading overseas walking groups. Sheep farmers who know the hills might be offered the opportunity to qualify as mountain leaders.
Walking tour operators could develop a useful fund of goodwill by employing farmers for driving, luggage transfer, and by using farm homes for lunch stops. Some areas might be devoted primarily to recreational use.
In such circumstances, why shouldn't farmers be subsidised to farm in a manner which supports leisure use? And finally, agriculture and tourism are largely small enterprise industries. Could farmers' existing business skills be refocused to allow a successful transfer to micro-tourism enterprises?
Certainly, the lesson of our spookily deserted walking routes is clear. Rural tourism will succeed only when farmers become stakeholders in the process, with the access issue - which continues to play havoc with development efforts - then becoming easier to resolve. Hopefully, this is the future.
Meanwhile, I had little option but to point the English couple around by road to our holy mountain. They headed off, but I wondered if they will return with badly needed spending for rural communities if tarmac walking is the best we can offer.
John G. O'Dwyer is a hillwalker and mountain leader