Ireland's Only Bothy?
15th April 2019
Last week's high winds meant a few days off from my summer season job as a guide on a tour boat, giving me some free time for my other job - writing one half of an outdoor-oriented travel guide for Ireland. David Flanagan, who asked me to help him write Exploring Ireland's Wild Atlantic Way, is writing the other half. I'm delighted he asked me to help him write another book. It will essentially be an all-Ireland extension of what we did in our previous collaboration, albeit presented a little differently. I'll take it as a good sign that it's given me a renewed excitement for getting outside and exploring Ireland's great outdoors. I have a list of adventures planned which grows by the day, and unless I win the lotto and free myself of the need to earn money it'll be a long time before I get through them. If the first 20% of this new book has done that for me then the finished thing will surely be a great resource for anybody who wants to see what Ireland has to offer.
Sample pages from the upcoming book
Early on Friday morning I left for East Galway, hoping to fill in some gaps in my knowledge. I spent all the daylight hours visiting areas I'd researched, as well as stumbling on others that weren't on my radar, making notes and photographs and trying to get a sense of this interior part of Ireland I don't know as well as I could (I rarely stray far from the coast). Though I was doing more driving than I typically like to do while visiting a new area the pressure to get book research done meant I wasted little time and saw a great deal. As darkness came on I crossed the border into County Mayo, happy with my day's work and excited for another one. I parked up at Meelick Round Tower, pleased to see it lit up as it meant another photo in the bag for the day. I wasn't long falling asleep in the back of the car.
Meelick Tower and graveyard, Co. Mayo
Saturday saw me driving around inland Mayo after a lovely sunrise at another round tower, this time at Turlough. I stopped to make porridge on the shores of Lough Conn as the sun tried to come out a little later in the morning. I took it as a good sign; rain was due and I hoped it would arrive late in the day, allowing me to make the most of any dry weather. I lived in Mayo for most of 2012 but didn't see much of its interior. Any area without mountains or coastline rarely attracted me, but that's changing for the better now as the book forces me to expand my range of interest. It was another productive day. As forecasted, the first spits of rain arrived shortly after four, and I made my way towards the Wild Nephin region, hoping nobody else had planned on staying in the Robert Lloyd Praeger Bothy for the night. I was in luck.
Bothies are relatively common in the Scottish mountains but sadly lacking from the Irish landscape. They are typically small, stone buildings in out of the way places, repurposed in more recent times as shelters for walkers taking to the hills. There are a number of outdoor shelters in Ireland - Mountain Meitheal have built a total of five open wooden huts in Wicklow and Mayo, and there are a few other huts in parts of Kerry, but none of these are bothies really. The Robert Lloyd Praeger Bothy, named for the legendary Irish naturalist, is the finest of these shelters, and it's open for anybody to use in Letterkeen, north of Newport. There are plenty of fine walks starting from here, including the fantastic Bangor Trail, and the added option to stay the night really adds to any of these adventures. It's spartan - just a single room, sadly lacking a fireplace, but it's bright (two skylights have been added since I last visited), the roof is sound and the draughty nature of the build means it's not too damp inside. As Met Éireann warned of high rainfall for the night I was glad of the thick stone walls and good slates, not to mention the extra space compared to the back of a VW Passat.
I brought along a few candles with me for atmosphere, and though it was cold they added a sense of warmth to the room. Strong southerly wind forced rain under the door and through the window frames but I was well clear of any wetting on the other side of the hut, where I rolled out my mat and set about making dinner and writing notes from the day. There's something I love about having only basic shelter from bad weather. Most of the houses we live in these days are closed off from the outside world, comfortable and warm regardless of what's happening outside. It's great, especially in the long term, but the comfort creates a disconnect with the world outside that I miss sometimes. Feeling a draught of cool air and hearing the rain hammer on the thin walls of a tent, or the simple slate roof of a stone hut for that matter, is a lovely best of both worlds; safe enough from the weather but still in touch with what it's doing. I slept soundly.
Warm, fed and dry
A few years ago I was hired for a video job in Powerscourt Hotel, where we were also put up for a few nights. As I approached the check-in desk, unshaven and probably looking like the scruffiest person in the room, I could see the panic in the receptionist's eyes and knew she was probably pressing the security button under the desk. There was a mix of relief and confusion on her face when my name turned out to be on the list. As I made for my room a man tried to take my bag - I nearly snatched it back before realising it was his job to carry it. I didn't like the idea of somebody carrying a bag I could carry myself. My room had rooms in it. The furniture was probably worth more than my earnings in the last few years. It was a pretty cool perk of the job in fairness, but I was much happier in the bothy listening to the rain last Saturday night.
Sample pages from the upcoming book
Early on Friday morning I left for East Galway, hoping to fill in some gaps in my knowledge. I spent all the daylight hours visiting areas I'd researched, as well as stumbling on others that weren't on my radar, making notes and photographs and trying to get a sense of this interior part of Ireland I don't know as well as I could (I rarely stray far from the coast). Though I was doing more driving than I typically like to do while visiting a new area the pressure to get book research done meant I wasted little time and saw a great deal. As darkness came on I crossed the border into County Mayo, happy with my day's work and excited for another one. I parked up at Meelick Round Tower, pleased to see it lit up as it meant another photo in the bag for the day. I wasn't long falling asleep in the back of the car.
Meelick Tower and graveyard, Co. Mayo
Saturday saw me driving around inland Mayo after a lovely sunrise at another round tower, this time at Turlough. I stopped to make porridge on the shores of Lough Conn as the sun tried to come out a little later in the morning. I took it as a good sign; rain was due and I hoped it would arrive late in the day, allowing me to make the most of any dry weather. I lived in Mayo for most of 2012 but didn't see much of its interior. Any area without mountains or coastline rarely attracted me, but that's changing for the better now as the book forces me to expand my range of interest. It was another productive day. As forecasted, the first spits of rain arrived shortly after four, and I made my way towards the Wild Nephin region, hoping nobody else had planned on staying in the Robert Lloyd Praeger Bothy for the night. I was in luck.
Bothies are relatively common in the Scottish mountains but sadly lacking from the Irish landscape. They are typically small, stone buildings in out of the way places, repurposed in more recent times as shelters for walkers taking to the hills. There are a number of outdoor shelters in Ireland - Mountain Meitheal have built a total of five open wooden huts in Wicklow and Mayo, and there are a few other huts in parts of Kerry, but none of these are bothies really. The Robert Lloyd Praeger Bothy, named for the legendary Irish naturalist, is the finest of these shelters, and it's open for anybody to use in Letterkeen, north of Newport. There are plenty of fine walks starting from here, including the fantastic Bangor Trail, and the added option to stay the night really adds to any of these adventures. It's spartan - just a single room, sadly lacking a fireplace, but it's bright (two skylights have been added since I last visited), the roof is sound and the draughty nature of the build means it's not too damp inside. As Met Éireann warned of high rainfall for the night I was glad of the thick stone walls and good slates, not to mention the extra space compared to the back of a VW Passat.
I brought along a few candles with me for atmosphere, and though it was cold they added a sense of warmth to the room. Strong southerly wind forced rain under the door and through the window frames but I was well clear of any wetting on the other side of the hut, where I rolled out my mat and set about making dinner and writing notes from the day. There's something I love about having only basic shelter from bad weather. Most of the houses we live in these days are closed off from the outside world, comfortable and warm regardless of what's happening outside. It's great, especially in the long term, but the comfort creates a disconnect with the world outside that I miss sometimes. Feeling a draught of cool air and hearing the rain hammer on the thin walls of a tent, or the simple slate roof of a stone hut for that matter, is a lovely best of both worlds; safe enough from the weather but still in touch with what it's doing. I slept soundly.
Warm, fed and dry
A few years ago I was hired for a video job in Powerscourt Hotel, where we were also put up for a few nights. As I approached the check-in desk, unshaven and probably looking like the scruffiest person in the room, I could see the panic in the receptionist's eyes and knew she was probably pressing the security button under the desk. There was a mix of relief and confusion on her face when my name turned out to be on the list. As I made for my room a man tried to take my bag - I nearly snatched it back before realising it was his job to carry it. I didn't like the idea of somebody carrying a bag I could carry myself. My room had rooms in it. The furniture was probably worth more than my earnings in the last few years. It was a pretty cool perk of the job in fairness, but I was much happier in the bothy listening to the rain last Saturday night.
Comments
By Marie Ryan: Thanks for this very interesting writing i have a bothy in tipperaet