We say goodbye to our Canadian friends in Black Valley Hostel in the morning. They are waiting for a car to come and carry their supplies so we have a head start on them. I have adjusted my rucksack and feel a lot better than the day before. The forecast for the afternoon is pretty bad, but so was yesterday and we got away with it. The morning sky is dark but dry so far despite the low wispy clouds that cling to the mountain sides around us. We walk uphill for a bit and then turn away from the Gap of Dunloe onto a small road and head into the heart of the Black Valley.
There is a strong smell of horse in the air. The few houses we pass on the road have their surrounding fields grazed so well by sheep that they look like manicured lawns. We are walking in the shadow of the giant Mcgillycuddy Reeks to our right now. To our left is the Derrycorriv ridge. The valley floor is supposedly covered in the remains of a WW2 Bomber that crashed here but all we can see is the Black Valley River and in the distance, Cummeenduff Lough. There is a turn off to the left with handpainted signposts for the mysterious Anam V but we are going straight head into the heart of the glacial valley.
The Kerry Way sign takes us off the road after 3km and onto a farm track guarded by a flock of sheep waiting to be fed. I’m in trail runners which are my preferred footwear for anything other than deep bog muck. I don’t like being weighed down. Tina is a boot nut. She likes her ankles encased in stiff unyielding material. The thought of turning an ankle is probably her biggest fear on the mountains but I think she wears her boots around the house as slippers anyway. The ground is wet from the steep sides of the hills so I’m not taking any chances. I pull on my gaiters. I’m glad of the extra protection against the Kerry wet. We pass through a few gates and into a stony trail that cuts through some forestry.
The woods don’t last long and we get out the other side. It is like stepping into another world, remote and ringed by rock. A farmer is traipsing down the line of the hill in front of us with his dogs, down to feed a pair of horses that are making their way up towards him from Lough Roisín. It looks roadless but there are one or two houses to be seen. Breasail Mountain looms over us to our right. Broaghnabinnia is straight ahead towering over everything, water streaming off it in places. The valley floor is littered with erratics, which always makes me imagine rocks as drunks. We follow the posts of the Kerry Way across a wet field. A large dog comes bounding by us, scaring the shit out of us as he makes a beeline for his master below. He is as big and dark as a wolf.
We cross a few damp fields and reach another road. We pass Molly’s Cottage, the abandoned stone ruin that is Instagram famous. This road skirts around the back of the lake and back up towards Black Valley Hostel, but we are following it on through to the end of the valley. It is good to be back on dry road again. A car actually passes us. The road stops ahead below the saddle ridge that runs from Broagnabinnia up towards the southern end of the Reeks. Carrountohill is up there somewhere beyond the clouds. Kid goats jump around on the slopes behind us, bleating for their mother who is on the other side of the valley. She makes her way towards the kids, tired, as if this is something they put her through on a daily basis.
We eventually discover what the Anam V signposts are for. They refer to the working farm at the end of the valley. There is also a stone built self catering cottage that we have to skirt around at the end of the road. These are the last habitations in the valley, probably the last place in Ireland to get electricity. It didn’t take long for Airbnb to find them though. You wouldn’t want to forget the milk here. We cross the farm and start to climb up the bridle path to the ridge. But first I fall. I’m not even on the slope and I just slip on the wet grass. My rucksack takes the brunt of the fall but I’m wet already. It is more a sheep track than a bridle path and we climb up to the top, stopping every now and then to look back at Black Valley. On the saddle, we take a breather and look towards Bridia Valley. It is absolutely epic looking in both directions.
The descent down into Bridia is steep, rocky and wet. We take our time, stopping every now and then to watch the view change around us. Another stile waits for us at the bottom and we are back on the road with the sign for the Cookie Monster Cafe welcoming us. There is no welcome there as it is not open but this is our lunch stop. We find a place to sit on the side of the road and have our sandwiches and drinks. The rain has held off so far but we can feel it coming in our bones.
After lunch we turn right and head up Cloghfune hill on a trail called the Lack road. It is no more a road than I am a mountaineer but apparently it has been in use as a mountain pass for 5000 years. It switches left and right many times, at one stage passing a bench that somebody has hauled up there. We could have sat there and had lunch. We can see the rain coming now, creeping slowly along the valley towards us in a grey haze. It looks harmless but we know we are in for a wetting and sure enough it reaches us half way up the Lack Road.
I pull my poncho on. The poncho is my last resort to stay dry. I don’t know if it will work but I know my own hiking jacket will only take so much wetting before the Kerry rain creeps through the waterproofing. Tina trudges along snugly in her bushwhacker. We follow the green road upwards towards a fence with a stile. This is another saddle. To the right the ridge angles up towards Carrauntohill. There is no signal up here.
There is no doubt about the rain now. It is not too heavy but it is coming down enough to let us know that there will be no shortage of it. We step on spongey mossbanks that are quickly being submerged in rain. By the time we get to the other side of the depression my feet are wet. I don’t mind wet feet in trail runners once I can get walking but it will be a while before we can get into a stride. There is a rocky descent next. It is quite steep. The rain is flowing down it like a stream in places so we have to be pretty careful.
By the time we reach level ground again I am soaking – half with sweat and half with rain. We are in the Derrynafeana Glen, surrounded by another circled wall of rocks. We follow the Gearhanagour Stream until we get to an old access road. The rain moves off in some other direction after having its chat with us. Walking is easier on the flat road, although we are tired from the steep descent. My trail runners start to squeeze out some of the water they have collected as we pass through an old settlement of dilapidated houses.
The final 3km is on a road proper. We are tired now and the tarmac road makes for uninspired walking after the wild and remote valleys. There is a turn off for Glencar but we are staying in Lough Acoose so we go straight on. I know that I am nearly there and my calves tighten. Once they get a feel that the end is approaching my calves like to just give up. They grumble and moan as if they have just realised that they climbed two mountain passes. The road finally takes us alongside the placid waters of the lake and Lough Acoose House is in sight. The grounds of the B&B are patrolled by ten peacocks, which as any peacock owner will tell you, is called an ostentation of peacocks.
At 17km, today was nowhere near as long as the previous day but the two climbs took a lot out of us. Still, great walking.