Walking the South Clare Railway-Doonbeg to Ballinacourty

Part four of my pointless endeavour was longer and quieter than the third. Having theoretically persuaded Gifty to pick me at the other end, I didn’t need to worry about walking back, allowing an extended exploration. It was a grey day with rain promised but not delivered. Wore two pairs of track suit bottoms on top of each other to reduce the bleeding. 

And I had a gradual realisation:  that while I had thought my timing for the trip was unwise, in fact it might be the best time of year. Ireland has had a bad spring, so most cattle are still indoors, not in the fields, while every day that passes, the fresh brambles grow springier and more vicious. For both reasons, sections I did in March may be impassable by June.

The journey began as usual where I had ended before, at what I think was once Doonbeg station, just by the “Rump International”. My boots were full of water within 10 minutes and remained that way for the next 2-3 hours.

I soon passed through a field where the elderly owner was at home, pitchfork in hand, and came to say hello. I explained what I was up to and he kindly informed me that someone else had done it before, and written a book about it as well. He conceded it might have been a while ago… After some searching, I found it: “In the Tracks of the West Clare Railway” by Edmund Lenihan, Mercier Press, 1990. So I’ve ordered a copy ….

He also warned me about a large drainage ditch up ahead, with good reason. It took me ages to find a climbing place where my feet had any purchase, trying to climb six feet of sheer mud using brambles to pull myself up (aged 56 and a quarter).

Some parts of the line were entirely gone, not a trace remaining; others still showed their origins:

There were also several obstacles on the line, including horses, houses and (potential) hearses. The latter diversion was large and clearly not in a good mood, but having got round it, I soon found two intact bridges of the same red-sprayed iron girder style, which showed I was still on track.

I was now deep in rural West Clare, with few people and numerous abandoned and collapsing buildings, some of which you would truly not wish to enter. One section has become part of a forest scheme, which made a change from the bog.

'My journey ended at a place called Ballinacourty, next door to the imposing but desolate Tullabrack windfarm.

Having called for international rescue, I - of course - got put on hold and ended up walking for another 45 minutes before we finally rendezvoused at West Clare Equestrian.

​And then home for a sad but effective 'Skype-wake' for an old friend Andrew Langdon, who died suddenly last summer without any of us knowing. We had a drink and a talk and exchanged old pictures of 1980s parties and more recent beer festivals.

No expedition this weekend, as everything got delayed by various events including trying to buy a house (still), trying to get to contract on a job (still) and the departure of our car “Tengele”, which had an accident involving a burst tyre and not being the right way up. It was put to sleep by our car-vet on Thursday. Until next weekend !