Up Sturra

The family were round the kitchen table for a few days in the middle of August. With 3 generations we seat eight. Everyone has their particular druthers [me: sofa, cuppa, flapjacks], but Dau.II had her sights on Blackstair / Sturra which fills our view-finder [as R] to the South of the farm. She [~30] persuaded by brother [~50] and father [~70] to keep company. As family we only needed one rucksack with 3 apples a bottle of water and a small slab of kindle mint cake. When something tall is literally in your face everyday, it takes somebody else's oomph to make a closer inspection.My mother spent her entire childhood in the shadow of Dover Castle. But she didn't go visit until her own children were bored and fractious one drizzly Dover afternoon.

The forecast was phew wot a scorcher, so we set off before 09:00hrs and <shame> drove the first 'boring' 1.5km along the metalled road. It's a fine, varied walk through Coonogue, Rathgeran & Knockymullgurry with maybe our left feet straying onto Bantry Commons on the Wexford side. We started off along a walled sunken  >2m< narrow lane canopied over with scrubby trees: noting a riot of sloes Prunus spinosa for gin later in the year. 

At the top of the lane you should, and we did, ignore the broad 'dray road' heading East for Coonogue ridge. Instead veer right and pick up a much travelled footpath heading straight uphill and more or less due South. The path pushes upwards through the heather (Erica spp and Calluna vulgaris) and other species typical of dry heath. In other words: same as we have on our hill on the N side of the valley. After a while things flatten out into a pavement [called Móin na Gaoithe = Bog of the Wind] of worn granite and schisty slabs which make for dry footing and yompy progress. It was quite blowy when we were on the face of the hill but warm and dry. Dry esp. underfoot with what sphagnum was present bleached a delicate pale green. 

At the end of the pavement there is a little rocky cliff after which the way marches steadily uphill to the summit. We had been paced by three young[ish] chaps; passing them out as they rested and vice versa.  They turned out to hail originally from County Nepal. It was rather endearing therefore, when we compared notes at the Summit cairn, that they reckoned the view was a) extensive b) magnificent. All things are relative: Mount Leinster [800m], in context, looms over the landscape like Mt Everest [8,000m].

I liked it better 30 years ago when heights were still given in feet. Our hill, Knockroe, was about 1,000 feet further from the Earth's centre than our front gate, and Mt Leinster was another 1,000ft higher. 220m - 540m - 795m doesn't have quite the same ring.  

The first time we three yomped to the top of Blackstair was about 20 years ago. For several consecutive summers in the 00s, we hosted a Summer Camp for Dau.I, Dau.II and their pals. Their big brother usually came back from wherever he was roaming and our pal Lulu was the other adult in the room outdoors as well as being caterer-in-chief. As the kids got taller we stretched the expeditions further. The year when Dau.II was prolly ~10 they all made it to the top of Blackstair; which meant that none of the adults had the excuse to rest with the asthmatics, emblistered or exhausted. It stands to everyone involved that a few handfuls of sub-teens were separated from their parents and forced allowed to walk through I'm tired to the local top of the world. They washed A Lot of dishes too.