Hungry Hill – 6/4/2007

I arrived in Ireland late Thursday armed with way too many warm clothes and Lonely Planet’s Walking in Ireland guide. The first walk we selected was a moderate-difficult loop at Hungry Hill on the Beara Peninsula in West Cork. Friday’s weather was more like (early) spring in Nashville rather than spring in Ireland. Bright, sunny, probably at least 15^oC. Dave drove. Initially Kate navigated. Then I navigated while she slept. We drove past the turn but she was none the wiser.

The basic route was up then over then more up. The guide book said it would be easier than it looked. It was mostly right. We had one little detour that took us a bit farther west(?) than perhaps we should have gone, but for the most part, everything was walkable or occasionally scramble-able. Lovely weather meant my rain jacket was extra weight. Also, I couldn’t make up my mind about the sweater. On off on off on off.

Taking me hillwalking can be a bit like taking a puppy for a walk, if my pace is faster. Kate and Dave lingered in the back while I was up and back and up and back. We stopped for lunch and Skittles, which quickly became my trail food of choice. Made with real fruit juice was sort of like drinking juice which was sort of like eating fruit. Right?

Hungry Hill had lots of rock and most of it was sandstone. The lack of rain lately meant for dry rock and positive pitch meant that both Dave and I did occasional silly things like climb instead of walk like normal people. My position as lead puppy meant I scrambled and climbed and then relayed information of the easiest paths back to a much more apprehensive Kate. We took a few more Skittle breaks and then reached the first lumpy overlook that showed the car very very small.

Next was the south summit, which to me looked about 100 vertical metres away from where we were standing. To Kate, it looked much farther away. She seemed worried about reaching it and finishing the walk with enough daylight. I said it would take 10-15 minutes max. We set out for it and I was on a mission. A combination of hiking, scrambling and jogging brought me to the grassy approach to the summit cairn. I took a photo of the view overlooking the speck that was our car and then jogged the rest of the way to the summit. After a few more photos, I walked back to make sure Kate and Dave were getting up ok and not swearing at me too much. The former was true. Not so sure on the latter.

Based on the time, we decided that the south summit was our summit and we would be faster getting back the way we came. With most of the miles left on the walk, we did risk running out of daylight continuing if we made any drastic errors navigating. The walk back to the car was very different from the walk up and it seemed to take just as long. I was absolutely the slowest getting down, embracing both my acrophobia and my weak ankles likelihood of injury as good reasons not to rush. We reached the car around what felt like dinner time (appropriately-named Hungry Hill) and set off on the important mission of finding food that I could eat. On Good Friday. When just about EVERYTHING in Ireland is closed.