I find that the best walks have a little bit of everything. If the pace is steady and the distance enough my mind tends to take a back seat and let the body take over. My feet settle into a rhythm. My mind relaxes and soaks up the scenery. What I loved about this walk in Offaly was the variety of landscapes we passed through. They were all different. All quiet, a mix of small roads, old laneways, forestry walks, upland bogs and riverbank paths.
We started at the car park outside Dempsey’s Pub in Cadamstown. The pub itself was once a stopping place for coaches. Before that, the Slí Dala came through here. This was the route that the Munster folk took to Tara. The pub is now closed, a victim of the pandemic. The Slí Dala was replaced by roads.
Beside the carpark was a small green walled area. Inside were memorials from different periods of Ireland’s history. Hugh O’ Neill passed through here on his way to help the Spanish invade in the 17th century. Local lads, James Scully and Johnny Daly, died trying to help the French invade in 1798. There is a famine memorial in one corner of the little walled triangle. In another corner is a a statue for Dick Redmond who fought for the world heavyweight title in 1931. On a wall is a plaque for legendary local rambler, Ger Moss.
We head up the road following the red arrows of the loop trail. We pass a few old stone cottages, their corrugated tin roofs are bright red with rust from years of rain. This is an old road, narrow but quiet. Only one car passes us. High hedges line our right. We are high enough here to see the plains across to Lough Boora and the giant white wave farms in the Bord na Mona peatlands. After about 1km we turn right up an old boreen. This is Paul’s Lane. Who Paul is, is a mystery. This is a green uphill track best done in single file. The track is rocky in places and rough enough to make you trip. A moss covered wall holds in the green field to our left as we follow it. A lone Massey Ferguson sits on the hillside, looking out over the wet saucer plate of Ireland. We christen it Paul’s Massey.

Near the top of the hill, the track widens to a trail wide enough to drive a tractor. We stay on the high ground as the centre is pockmarked with puddles. We pass the abandoned ruins of Bordingstown, a settlement that was active up until the famine. The ruins of five or six cottages are being swallowed by brambles and moss.

After the deserted village we climb onto a raised bank that makes its way through a Sitka plantation, bounded on either side by deep dark timber. Small yellow birds (chaffinches or yellowhammers maybe) flash across our path. Ahead lies a bright green field on the other side of a stile. I’m afraid it might be boggy but the trail rises and there are steel platforms laid down where the ground is too wet. We follow the pole markers across the field until we cross another stile to a road. Our trail turns left here. The Slieve Bloom Way continues straight on into the uplands, but that is for another day. On the road we are surrounded by more farmland. We pass more deserted houses. Some of them are old and quaint looking. Others are modern, with smooth plaster and concrete windowsills. These look more forlorn than the older ones.

We come to a T-junction and turn right. The road becomes rougher, splattered with puddles and with a ditch running along it. This section looks like waste ground. It is being cleared. Tree stumps stand sawn off in the undergrowth like fallen soldiers. It is not the most beautiful of areas as it is ringed by more spruce and cut through with timber felling roads. It is quiet and that’s enough for us.

We follow the road through this expanse until the red arrows send us on a sharp left through brush and coppiced trees. A stream runs through here and the ground is waterlogged in places. It feels like it has rained a lot here lately. I’m thankful that I have my waterproof shoes.

A wooden bridge goes across the stream and we rise up into a clearing where the Giants Grave is. We straddle the borders of Laois and Offaly, one foot in each county. There are picnic benches but the surrounding trees keep the Spring sun away. We don’t fancy eating our lunch on damp wood. The monument itself is a neolithic burial place, so probably about 5000 years old. It is supposedly the resting place of Bladma, a legendary warrior. No-one is quite sure who Bladma really was or what he did to warrant a mountain monument, but the Slieve Blooms are named after him. Maybe he did nothing but the world back then was full of mountains that needed names.

We turn right after the Giants Grave and follow the fire road to a cross roads. Here we cross the Slieve Bloom Way again and we walk back into Offaly through more felled ground. This spot gets more sun so we perch on a felled tree and eat our lunch. A couple walk by with a dog, heading down another fire road. These are the only people we have met since we started walking. After a dessert of crisps and some swigs of water, we mosey on. The road starts to rise gradually now. We are still hemmed in by forest on either bank so there is nothing much to see until the top of the hill. It is a good walk and the brow of the hill looks like it should have good views.
It does. We pass through a sheepgate and are out onto the brow of Spink Mountain. Spinc in Irish means pointed rock, so it is no surprise that there are a few of these in the country. At 324m it is nearly as high as Glendalough but the views are very different. Nowhere near as epic, but with their own soft style. To the left, another foot trail goes up to Wolftrap Mountain and from there it is a ridge all the way to the highpoint of the Blooms. I add that to my Another-Day list. To the right are the plains below and the forests that surround Kinnity Castle. A buzzard takes off nearby and soars into the air. Smaller birds dip and dive alongside us, patrolling their nests on the ground. There is a picnic bench in the sun higher up. It would have the best views over the valley below. We are slaves to the walking rhythm and have stopped already so this is not an option for us.
We go through another sheepgate to the fire road that leads down the other side of Spink. It curves its way down into the valley. Trees have been freshly cut along the verge, leaving stumps that would make good seats. There is new forestry to our right while the left has been cleared long ago, leaving roots in the deep red banks looking like alien spider creatures.

The road swings sharply to the right and we get a clearer view of the valley below. Bright green fields stand out among the dark peatland and scrub. Sheep graze on them. My walking partner, home from the Netherlands, remarks on the eye-popping shade of green down there. Three rams are stood in the road ahead but they toddle off ahead of us and then take off up into the forestry when we get closer.

We come to a junction and follow the red arrow to the right. The road turns to green track and skirts around Spink here. We are doubling back towards Cadamstown. A large fox comes out on the road ahead of us. He stands there looking at us coming forward. His bushy white tail flicks and then he turns, going back the way he came, his plans changed just like that. The track brings us to a narrow finger of lodgepole pines. These trees are not native. They come from the Pacific Northwest. The pine needled ground beneath them would be a great spot for camping, if I had any interest in that, which I don’t.

We leave the track here and turn left through newly planted trees. It is a single file trail, mucky and wet in places. We pass the first of many fallen trees. The track brings us to a small stream called Purcell’s Brook which we cross easily. We climb up the bank and are on another mucky old green lane, similar to Paul’s Lane. To our right is green farmland with sheep grazing. To our left the ground starts to fall away into the valley of the Silver River.
Once again the landscape changes dramatically. The laneway brings us out at the Silver River. It is quiet and welcoming, with picnic benches around a clearing. This would be a lovely paddling spot in the Summer to cool the feet. Sand has accumulated naturally in places to create little beaches. The water is shallow, clean and clear and I’d say its a great spot for trout.

We cross a small stile and the valley floor starts to drop. A weir heralds another sudden 8 foot drop. The trail narrows into single file and snakes through vivid green undergrowth. Moss appear everywhere, dressing the rocks and trees in bright green splotches. Trees tower and branch above us, their roots grasping at the side of the slopes. In most places the trail skirts the edge of the drop and there are wooden railings to stop walkers from going too close to the edge. We pass a workman repairing some of the old fencing.

Some of the railings has been smashed by falling trees. Maybe there were storms here recently. Or maybe their roots gave up up the fight against gravity and tumbled into the ravine below. All you can hear here are the gushing waters that flow through the channels of rocks. We walk along boardwalks and over shoe-worn roots, one hand on the railings while we peer down into the gorge and follow the woodland trail. This is squirrel country. Badgerland. Birdtown. There are probably otters making the most of the watercourse below. Across the open chasm and the roar of the waterfalls on the giant stones is sheer cliff-rock.
What you see here is ancient time, older than Ireland. Layers of Silurian rocks squashed together when continents collided to create the highest mountains in Europe. They were eroded by millions of winters and then buried under oceans, sandstones and bogs. These rocks saw the first ferns appear. The first bony fish swam around them about 440 million years ago. The Silver river itself started out as a glacial run off and it has been cutting through here since the glaciers retreated. The end result is that you can see all the layers as you walk along. The gorge walls are layered with Old Red Sandstone, quite different to the shiny blue-grey limestone of my home.
We stop and watch the flow for a while on a wooden bridge over the gorge. A local lad picks his way around the bluff of a cliff below us, leading a friend under the danger signs above. “Its grand,” he says, “this is the way we used to go”. They disappear around the corner, scampering over boulders, like they are exploring a hidden dinosaur valley. We follow the woodland path and it brings us back up to farmland and a boreen with a concrete stile that spits us out on the Coach Road beside Dempsey’s pub again.
Google Maps: 53.126854, -7.660553
Distance: 10 km
Time: Three hours
Type of walk: Small roads, old laneways, forestry walks and riverbank paths
Views: Upland hills, bogland, farmland, river gorge
Animals: Sheep, fox, buzzard
Plant of the Day: Bog Rosemary, the county flower of Offaly

Humans: 2 x dog walkers, 1 x workman, 2 x river explorers
Score: 8/10
Let me know if you know anything else about this route that I might have missed!
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