On Friday morning the forecast presented a window of opportunity. It would be cold, with a stiff northerly, but mostly clear. We would have a go at the Coomloughra horseshoe. I discussed the route with Johnny. It would be snowy, icey and exposed. We had only two ice-axes and two sets of crampons between us, plus all my climbing gear. In particular the Beenkeragh ridge would be a problem, resembling Crib Goch.

The horseshoe is a deep corrie, open to the north west. It is bordered by the cliffs of Ireland’s 3 highest mountains. To the right is Caher, at the head Carrahauntoohil and to the left Beenkeragh. We drove the four miles from the Inn and set off up the Hydro track. At the lakes we swung under the shoulder of Caher to stay out of the wind for a while. After a lunch stop we headed up the side of the shoulder to come out below the cone of the western summit. Here Fionnuala decided to go down. For the rest of us it was a long slog up the steep, increasingly snowy slope. When the cloud blew clear, consolation was to be had in the views across to Beenkeragh, and of the cliffs falling from our feet down into the corrie, but often it was just the immediate cloud, rock and snow. For some the progress became painfully slow and it was clear that the whole group would not complete the round. A decision was needed. At the western summit of Caher Patrick wanted to turn back alone but was persuaded to stay with us to the main summit.

What we saw when we got there made the decision for us. To the left was the cliff and the floor of the corrie. To the right a 30° snow slope dropped 50 feet to a steepening, and then the void. Across this edge the wind was blowing at force 6 or 7. Ahead the edge dropped gently to a col then rose to the eastern summit, with an unseen slope down to a col beyond, then the broad western slope of Carrahauntoohil. Some of us could clearly go no further. Time now made the Beenkeragh ridge out of the question. Others would baulk at the prospect of crossing this only to have to recross it later when conditions may have deteriorated. We were hopelessly under-equipped. I had visions of the snow-slope sliding away. Reluctantly we decided to abandon Carrahauntoohil for another day.

At the col below the western summit we decided to cross to the Curraghmore ridge running down south westwards, rather than simply to retrace our steps. The view to the south was superb, and Brian stopped to dig out his camera. As he framed his shot, Gerry shouted across to me. I couldn’t understand him over the wind but following his outreached arm I saw Brian’s pack starting to lift and slide towards the edge. I crossed to it and secured it with a boot. Gerry came across and did likewise. We helped Brian to stow his gear and battled our way down the slope and out of the wind. The ridge was obviously not a good choice. The gully below the ridge was snow-filled and could be seen to run safely down into the valley, so we dropped into it and had great sport running and bouncing down the steep, deep snow. For some this was the high point of the day. When the snow ran out we traversed to the shoulder of Caher, then down to the track running south of Loch Acoose. Here we split, with drivers and some others following the track back to the road while the rest followed the route of the Kerry Way to the western end of the loch, to be collected by the cars on their way back to Glencar. That night there was bingo at the Climbers’ Inn. But serious. Mostly we stayed away from the bar area, made ourselves ready for the next day, and got an early night.

The next day brought a thaw, with a reasonable forecast. We said goodbye to Gerry who was returning to Cork. We decided to have a go from the Hag’s Glen side. Some of us had ascended the Devil’s Ladder (the usual route) in the past and said it was pretty awful. Johnny said it wasn’t so bad but would be heaving with folk, this being Saturday. He recommended instead we go up the peak immediately left of the Ladder, pass the top of the Ladder on our way to Carrahauntoohil and descend via a col to the north of the summit, coming down thereafter through a boulder field. We got an early start and were walking by 10.30. On the way up Hag’s Glen I tried to work out the descent route, while admiring the ridges on the east face of Carrahauntoohil. There is a dramatic corrie on the east side of the Beenkeragh ridge, bounded to the south by Carrahauntoohil and to the north by Beenkeragh. From the glen I could see the top of the descent from the col, which looked grim. Also, the corrie was some 400 feet above the floor of the glen, and I could not see any obvious breech in those defences.

We stopped briefly just short of the lakes for refreshments, then carried on up towards the foot of the Ladder. There was just one party on it, near the top. We decided the peak to our left was less appealing as a route than the Ladder, and I noticed a ridge to the right which I thought would go as a scramble. After some discussion we decided we would have lunch and think about it some more. I went for an exploratory scramble on some nearby rocks, not to form a view about the route, but to get a feel for the quality of the rock. It was superb, but once off the rock I was on soggy grass which, if at all steep, simply came away under my feet and sent me slithering down the slope. So it was a single party up the Devil’s Ladder, which turned out to be pretty easy; a bit like Rossett Ghyll, but there was more of it. My only caveat would be that to get up it you need to be properly shod. Coming out on the ridge we could see the north side of Caher and the route which had repulsed us the day before. There was still a little snow on it but it looked perfectly feasible. A large party (fifty or so people) was moving off the summit and we passed them on our way up. Some were carrying sections of aluminium piping. Ray later said he had spoken to one of the party and had been asked if we were the group who had turned back at Caher the previous day before being told that the sections of metalwork formed a ladder which had been used to scale the 15-foot cross at the summit of Carrahauntoohil and so climb higher than was theoretically possible in Ireland. Dorothy informed us that the cross had in the past been lit up with neon tubes powered by a wind generator. I thought some of the things I had seen on the tops of Spanish mountains were a bit cheesy, but neon lights?

Looking down from the summit to the col at the start of Beenkeragh Ridge and into the corrie I still could not see a line that corresponded naturally to the descent route recommended by Johnny. With a small group who were all able to look after themselves in exposed places and handle the occasional technical section without help I am sure it would be perfectly safe, but as it was there were too many in the party without the requisite skills and experience, so having achieved the primary objective of the trip we retraced our steps back to the glen, getting all 10 of us down the Ladder without significant mishap and without a single trundled rock. The forecast that evening was for Atlantic fronts coming in on a wind backing to the south west. We were joined for dinner by Teresa and Tom, and had brief words with Johnny’s father, the legendary Jack Walsh.

With the forecast unchanged we decided the Reeks would just be cloudy and windy. Gerry had suggested Mangerton Mountain on Friday, and we agreed to give it a whirl on Sunday. Johnny thought it was a sensible plan, so to Mangerton we went. The path starts at a Tourist Information Centre near Killarney, climbing the steps by the Torc waterfall (many odd looks from the day-trippers here), through a forestry plantation and up Barnacurrane gorge to emerge on open hillside. The terrain underfoot is of Pennine-type peat hags with occasional grassy intervals. It was soaking. Mangerton is an enormous sponge. Ray, Kepa and Patrick decided to cut short the walk and descend to join the Kerry Way near Friar’s Glen, meeting us at the car park later. After a lunch stop we walked round the Devil’s Punchbowl.

Here cliffs drop 200 feet into a corrie with a loch to the north of the summit plateau. Skirting the edge of the cliffs, we struck off southwards across the plateau, still squelching and dodging the wettest bits. At the summit we delayed just long enough to set a bearing for a notional point 700 metres NW of the summit from which to turn SW down a spur. Remaining clear of the cloud, we hit our target exactly in just 5 seconds short of the 10 minutes we had allowed, took a new bearing and dropped to a viewpoint at the top of our descent spur. Here we had a short rest for more refreshments while the cloud came in again. Another bearing took us slithering obliquely down the spur to Friar’s Glen, a prominent feature in the valley, before crossing the valley bottom to the old Kenmare road. This crossing turned into a nightmare of mud and water as we made our way teetering on 4-foot high tussocks of grass, sometimes overbalancing and sometimes falling through into the noxious brew in which they were growing. We turned down the road towards the car park, happy to find streams crossing our route so that the worst of the mud could be washed off. Having just about navigated the mountain, I then led us 20 km out of our way on the drive back to Glencar, taking a wrong turning at Killorglin and carrying on to Glenbeigh before turning back.

As an initial exploratory visit the trip was a success. We had three good days out and reached our primary objective, the top of Carrahauntoohil. Much remains to be explored. We looked at but did not visit the ridge which borders Hag’s Glen to the south. Beenkeragh and its ridge were but eyed with intention. The ridges on the east face of Carrahauntoohil beckon, promising days of mixed mountaineering. Coomloughra must be abundant in long mountaineering and climbing routes. Then there were the tantalising glimpses into the corrie between Carrahauntoohil and Beenkeragh, a place of fearful beauty. to be continued ?