WHEN WALKING

Hollywood to Glendalough: 30km

Second Chances

So, nothing to do with the original plan to walk the Wicklow Way. But having seen the existence of a Saint Kevin’s Way shortly after setting off, and shortly after finding that the Glenmalure hostel was closed at short notice and my planned walk thus curtailed, I made a decision.

I’d do a complete Saint Kevin.

I leave the hostel in good time, but either my phone is slow or the bus was early. When I speak to the attendants in the visitor centre car park, they tell me two buses went ten minutes before and there won’t be any more today.

So I think back to the German girl’s recommendation from day one, and decide to hitchhike. It’s been a while. I only ever seem to hitchhike when I’m stuck in the mountains and the buses let me down. Iceland, Gran Canaria, and now Ireland – an exclusive club.

Without much confidence, I stand by the turn off to Hollywood and stick out my thumb. Much to my surprise, the fourth vehicle pulls over, a Coillte van, the Forestry Organisation. When I say where I’m heading, he says he can take me some of the way.

“Some of the way’s good,” I tell him, not really thinking it through.

But shortly after setting off, and on hearing that I’m doing Saint Kevin’s Way, he changes his mind and tells me he’ll take me all the way to Hollywood before he starts work.

He comes from a farming family but knew there was no future in farming, and studied forestry instead. When I mention how I have recently warmed to forest plantations as landscapes to walk through, he starts to tell me everything I never knew about the subject. He is an excellent travelling companion.

He talks about the three pillars of sustainability, and that “a forest that pays, is a forest that stays”. He explains the different roles of the establishers and the harvesters (Ian is an establisher). He points out a stand of trees.

“They’re 45 years old, and no one’s done anything, no one’s bothered them. Just at the beginning, we do have to put down a few chemicals to make sure they start growing, but after that we just leave them alone”.

He refutes the claim that plantations are sterile environments.

“It’s only because they think diversity is about furry creatures and flowers. No one cares about insects and moss, and they thrive in there”.

He also tells me how all over the hills there are trees in various stages of growth, that when they cut them down and the trees are young, there’s light and the animals thrive and that as the trees grow it’s constant change.

“Nature loves disruption, just not destruction.”

I feel I’ve had a crash course in forestry and I am over the moon.

We talk a bit about walking in Spain, a bit about mapping apps, and an awful lot about the wonder of induction hobs.

“In the showroom,” he tells me, “the guy put a five-pound note under the pan and boiled the water. The note wasn’t burnt at all. I was sold.”

“I know exactly what I’m going to do when I get home!” I tell him.

“Burn your money?” he suggests.

He drops me off at the Hollywood café. I order breakfast, too big to eat and carry a box of bread and sausage with me for the rest of the day.

Hollywood has two Saint Kevin’s churches. I visit them both, not sure which one’s important. I admire the Hollywood sign and the peoples’ intention to win the ‘Tidiest Village’ competition. I note the tiny pub, beloved of visiting US film crews, who have used it for all sorts of films. I read every bit of information in the cute phone box information centre. And then I set off.

My legs are starting to feel normal again, my energy’s coming back. It’s been two days since I last had a statin. However, I give in to the urge to sit down on the slightly underwhelming Saint Kevin’s Chair to admire his statue blessing the path from on high.

I trot along the lanes, a bit sad that the raspberries aren’t out here. Earlier in the week I’d been stuffing myself with them all day. Over the hedgerows are views to the hills and down to the river we’ll be following to its source. And after a few hours of wandering along country roads, the path starts to rise up towards the mountain tops.

The path follows the way taken by Saint Kevin to Glendalough in the 6th century, I wonder how he managed without the paths in place, but then I wonder, maybe they already were. I need a historical path expert. At least he would have had the same stream to follow.

I walk up by the side of waterfalls and, seeing a family by a pool, go over to put my feet in. Looking at the map, I see it’s Saint Kevin’s Pool, and I think for a thousand of years or more, pilgrims must have passed this pool on hot days and done the same we are doing now. I pray for the beautification of my unsightly walker’s toenails.

Then up and over on a path just below the road, with the little traffic there is drowned out by the wind – up to the Wicklow Gap, a rare route across the mountains from west to east.

A few cars are parked and a lot of people are standing on rocks, arms outstretched, taking selfies with the mountains in the background. I try so hard not to judge and carry on down the stones, rocky miners’ path down the valley. They made use, it seems, of the paths carved out by the earlier pilgrims, and thus the paths were well preserved. The path that pays is the path that stays.

At the bottom of the valley I come to the miners’ village where the girls are there again, looking a bit disappointed in this spot’s potential. I decide I will investigate more when I see a woman with a hula hoop being videoed by her husband on a bridge.

When I come over to ask about this, she’s happy to talk and very proud of the hoop, which she and her husband made themselves.

“It’s two kilograms, not four kilograms” she tells me, as if I would understand the significance of this, and she proceeds to hula hoop while her husband films. What puzzles me is that she’s standing on the bridge with a car park behind her and no view at all.

After this it’s a hop, skip and a jump down to the flat valley bottom where the stream that will join the stream of Glendalough flows by the path. The end of the way comes out opposite the youth hostel, which is very satisfying indeed.

Everything feels like it was meant to be.

And my legs are back.