Mar 24

The Reeks Ridge

Come on! I'll race ya!

Mar 17

Cloone Lake

Anyone up for a swim? The water's lovely...

Mar 10

Brandon

This time we won't be defeated....? Huh?

Mar 3

Knockanattin

Were we not there the other week????

Feb 24

Weekend in Lauragh

The Lauragh Weekend -Barry Style!.

Feb 17

Buchaill

Let's hope it's as nice-a-day as it was last time!!!

Feb 10

Mullaghanattin

Wherever it is anyway, I'll be there if it kills me!

Feb 3

Knockanaitinn

...or was it?

Jan 27

Knockmealdown

The Highest Mountain in Waterford!
WOW!

Jan 20

Mangerton

Anyone want to submit a report on the trip to Mangerton? Please do!

Jan 13

The Paps

Well, I've never been so wrecked after doing The Paps, as I am tonight. I could put it down to the festive season just past and all the drink that was drunk and all the Christmas cake and pudding that was consumed but, unfortunately there was not much drink drunk ( or is it drank?) and I am a firm believer that both Christmas cake and pudding are the foods of the dark lord Satan and that to consume them at Christmas is blasphemy - roll on the Christian Union's rebuttal.
This morning, however, I was looking forward to see all the new faces - and what a plethora of new faces we had... John Healy had a new face... Stephen had a new face... Aidan Hannafin had a new face - that is until Sarah Lee whipped it off him. And there were a few new foreign students as well, lots of Americans, some Belgians a few French and bunch of Norwegians... sorry if I've left anyone out - but hey! We all use the same currency right?
P.J. must have fallen and banged his head or some'it' coz he had entrusted his 53 seater pride and joy to someone else - who it would turn out didn't really know what the story was... although he did lend us his map. It was a bit subdued on the way down and we made an uncustomary shop-stop in Ballincollig. What's up with that? Maybe Mike was afraid he'd leave someone else behind if we stopped in Macroom again... It looked like it was going to be a glorious day as we pulled up in the Clydagh valley at the foot of the Paps but a Tolkienian mist hung over the breast mountains in Ireland - that was for you Aidan. Unperturbed we saddled up and when the nice gentleman wanted his horse back we headed off to climb some mountains.
Aidan Glutten For Punishment Hannafin jumped in Steve's group with Trish and I as well as his true love Sarah Lee - we all know the bitchiness is a front guys!!! And off we went. After several minutes at the back observing the wonder that is power stretch on the female form we moved up the group a little and settle in to the mocking, taunt and downright hostilities. Sarah's into whips and chains...whips and chains... whips and chains...
As is usual, you only ever here what happens in the group which has the pleasure of my company - but I am working I my bi-locational skills... but if anyone of the other groups, or even some else from Steve's groups wants to write an account of the day I'd be only delighted to put it up here! Anyway, on with the story, the day started off well - Steve was strutting trying to impress the new Americans and Sarah was pulling no punches with Aidan. Sarah for your information it's a common problem, it happens to a lot of guys and it's not a big deal... I'll stand up for you Aidan. Unfortunately the climb proved too much for some and Ciara and Susie very heroically took them back to where the bus should have been.
The rest of us bulled on to the summit stopping every four hundred yards to take a bearing... God bless his little heart, if he hadn't been so busy getting it on with his rucksack on the Nav-Weekend (which was last year Trish ) maybe he would have known what he was doing... Ouch! Only kidding Steve anyone who can put up with Aidan and I for five hours and not go insane, is a worthy leader. Respect to da man! Also I guess we should apologise to the lovely Heather - who being the only American left in the group took a heavy hammering from the wannabe Spartan Cheerleaders. Aidan we never ascertained if she was single - doh!
The mist always threatened to let up and it did briefly for a while at the top of the second Pap, but we did not feel the heat of the sun until we were back on terra-ferma. And despite all my warnings there were still people there in runners and jeans - with no change of shoes on the bus, for the love of God what do I have to do to get it through to them? Again breaking with tradition the guitar came out before we got back on the bus - i.e. while we were waiting for John Healy to return. On the way back we stopped in Macroom for a bite and to see if we could find Slava - alas no joy! You know? If we were in the Army we'd be court martialed!
The sing song on the bus while brief showed great potential! Barry the Kid was in full voice and the French/Belgian contingent was out in force. Also there were angelic tones coming from the seat behind me, so I think we'll have to get these people to play a more active roll next time. You know who you are! All in all it was a very successful first hike with which to kick off the year!

Dec 29 - Jan 1

New Years In Letterfrack

Well! The original plan was that most of us would head for the Metropolitan Center of Galway i.e. Letterfrack, on Sunday 30^th however as I was minding my own business at the wall the Saturday before - trying to eek out a living on the measly wages we unappreciated instructors receive, I mean if we were to do the same job anywhere else we would surely...
Oh Get On With It!
Sorry! Anyway as I was saying before that
bifurcation (<- that was for you Jerry), news was coming in from the Wesh-t coash-t that a tumult was brewing and that the weather was getting shitty. The Irish Meteorological Society's Wesh-t Coash-t Representative Meredith Lulling reported that all those intending to spend the New Years in that corner of the world should leave that night as heavy snow and ice were expected Sunday. So having sold my soles to Roy in order to get out of work early - who I might add thought he was getting my eternal being rather than two dirty foot-shaped pieces of rubber - I raced home, stuffed my gear in my mouth and some food in my backpack collected my one-true-love, then Bríd - only kidding I just collected Bríd, and headed North-Wesh-t...
Meredith is so full of S*@T and SHIT, there were two old ladies outside a pub in Charleville who looked to be shivering, but no ice nor snow... I expected to be crawling along in first gear by the time I got to Limerick - Nah Boy! A patch of frost here, some black ice - ooops missed that one - there, but no snow. Still, when I rang Aidan from the R334 - where? - the R334 in order to triangulate my position I discovered that I'd been a bit hard on poor Meredith, there was in fact snow on the mountains. And it was spectacular, having just seen Lord of the Rings, I couldn't help but make comparisons. Jagged snow-covered peaks standing atop thick green forests glistening in the moonlight, would have led anyone to believe they'd been transported to Middle Earth! So Onwards to the hostel!
N.B. The directions I received to the hostel included...going pash-t the DISH-CO...
When we finally arrived at the Monastery Hostel Letterfrack, Phone No. 095 41132 - For all your Hostile Needs! it was pushing on into the morning so all we were fit for was four or five beers and bed! The next day still no snow - some sleet and some Panadol but no snow, at the hostel anyway so being sorely disappointed I decided to stay in bed all day which I did - kinda! I also felt a little bit of a cold coming on so in order to prepare myself for the climb on Monday I snuggled up in front of the fire Lemsip in hand and fell asleep. That evening dinner was on the table by the time the others returned - it wasn't cooked but it was on the table. After a quick bite, it was off with us to one of the three fine public houses in the area - oh decisions, decisions! And just as we were raising our classes to him who should walk in but Mr. Jeremiah Q. Kelly. So maybe we could stay for one more...
Monday's climb was uneventful as were Ashling Falls but that's another story so I'll cut to what I know you're all dying to here about - THE DISHCO. After a slap up meal that evening, some guitar playing, and a power cut we beautified ourselves and headed out for the night to the hotest only night-spot for miles - THE LETTERFRACK DISHCO. Unfortunately, only Jerry stood any chance of scoring being the only member of the Landed Genrty in our party! But what happened next...? You'll have to ask those involved! Where's Mike I want to give him a NEW YEAR kiss, pucker up handsome!

Happy New Year

Dec 19

Christmas Party

Wow! That really says all that needs be said. But since Susie was very upset that there was nothing up here the MORNING AFTER, regarding the NIGHT BEFORE, I will humour her... a little. We began the night with a friendly game of Pen-Ultimate Frisbee, down in the Mardyke Arena... Ouch! What a laugh, the revised Irish Rules worked perfectly. There were many a bone crunched, plenty of muscles over stretched and acres of skin rubbed exothermically along the hard wooden floor! Surprisingly the result was a draw! Congratulations, to Christine - the cute EYE-talian, on being the highest scorer. Ansin, off with us to G1 for an illegal showing of a certain Rock Climbing Video, excellent. Finally on with us to The Gateway for some light supper and plenty drink, so much for live music, the management screwed us and wouldn't turn down the shit CD's... Fuck 'em that's what I say! The Wolfhound me thinks after Christmas. After we were all but kicked out of the Gateway, the merry group some how split up, there are even unsubstantiated (spelling?) rumours that some went to Gorby's. So did Eoin score with Julia or what?

Dec 16

Coomsaharn

Okay this will be a quick, quick version of the events of last Sunday. We met at Gaol cross at the un-godly hour of 8:00am. Why? I have no idea! Having never climbed Coomsaharn before I was like a child on Christmas morning, yes, jumping up and down on my fathers stomach at half past five... As we stealthily(?) pulled away from the Cross our rouse was spoiled by Ms. Timms who insisted that we wait for one B. Feeney. Which we begrudgingly did. It being that festive season known as Easter we even had a sing song on the way down. Barry was in full voice by the time we got to the end of the Straight Road, and there was a full sock in his gob by the time we met Finbarr in Ballincollig... The entire genre was attacked, from the bad hair days of Wham to the ball-breaking Oh Holy Night - sans R. Kelly. After a tummy filling stop in Daly's we wound our nimble minibus up the winding twisted and gnarled tracks to Coomsaharn Lake.
Since we paid all that money to edu-ma-cate the young 'un's we insisted that they lead. Helen, John and Pat took charge and John Healy buggered off on his own to play with the local wildlife... 'nough said. It was a glorius day, I was draughted into Helen's group and although our initial trek was on the vertical after that it was plain sailing. The mist cleared, the sun came out and the ice melted... with our help. It was a great day on which to finish the year. See yawl next year! Oh, by the way don't forget the Christmas Party on Wednesday!!!!!!!!

Dec 9

The Reeks

Anyone want to donate a synopsis?

Dec 2

Crohane

Long, long ago. In a Galaxy far, far away the Rebel alliance was near victory against the forces of the Empire... but that has nothing to do with us climbing Crohane. It was a shitty day if memory serves, Conor took one group and Bryan took a second on the same route in different directions. I personally think Crohane is a dumbass climb cos of the fact that one has to come right down into the valley off Crohane and then bull up d'other mountain... the fact that I had a cold that Sunday didn't help matters either... The decent down to Lough Guitane was indeed treacherous... such danger that could only be justified with a Tolkien description...guess what I saw this weekend? Anyway it was only when we met up with the other group at the half-way point - yeah right! that we noticed a minor lack of Soviet Charm in both groups... Where was Slava? In Macroom. That's where! Ooooopss! Sorry Slava! The weather really started to move in by the time we topped out, so with a cold heart Conor drove us onwards, which left Aidan and I little time to hit on Jackie, who, I might add, thinks my name is Jason. Apologies for the brevity of this account!

Nov 25

The Reeks

The day began well. I crept Aidanless from the house at 8.06, giggling at the memory of his previous evenings boasting of being up at seven. Then he screeched up at Gaol Cross at 8.29. Off we went. The forecast dreich weather didn't arrive. John Healy took about ten off the bus to go up the Hags' Glen and up Cnoc Brinneà to Beenkeeragh, with Aidan lumpensammling. The rest of us did the magical slog up the Hydro Road. At the butt of Screig Mòr we split. Conor took a group for a pleasant daunder across the bog up to Caher, lumpensammled by Askea. Meself had Steven to lumpensammle, and Pa Clifford to remind me that it's good being seventeen in a democracy. From the start the pace was cracking, and the crack needed no pacing. It's a good clean line up over Screig Mòr onto Beenkeeragh, and no one shirked. We booted it. By 1.35 we were sat just below the summit of Beenkeeragh, with a fine view straight across at the North Face of Corraun Tuathail. The fluctuating wind left us alone. It was a fine place for lunch. JH arrived with his group. This being a democracy, anyone wishing not to cross the Ridge was offered a return with John and Aidan. Since they'd had an option, we booted across that too, barely missing Conor' and Askea's group. By God we were going well. We'd topped out by three. Then off we went again, down towards the Devil's Ladder, the plan being to go thru the Heavenly Gates and down that way. Atop the rock that marks the start of the path were two yobs shouting abuse. Angrily I retorted. It was Tony Galvin and Meredith! Oh, they thought they were great! They joined us. Off we went again. There was this other group hanging around. One of them comes up to me. "Are you Jeremiah Kelly?" he says. "I am Maximus!" Howaya Maximus! Off we went again. It was good that these pooor CIT souls had us to follow off the mountain. Hate seeing people lost. 'Twas most pleasant daundering along with plenty of time before dark. We managed to get ten into the KMR Hut for a laugh, then daundered along again. I'd love to mention everyone in the group, but I'm shite at names. I blame my mother, who has to say the name of each of her five sons before she gets the right one. We were on the road at dusk as a three-quarter moon rose over the shoulder of Cruach Mòr. The usual chips, garlic'n'cheese in Denjoes, the usual cider in Tom Lyne's. On the bus then, Rob Lynch had to be coaxed to take the guitar out, but once he did, boy, 'twas powerful. We got two songs off les Francaises, and an emotive piece off the Germans. It was about the death of a cactus. Conor appeared. A memory struggled in my whiskey-addled brain. "Conor, do I remember you being able to play the entire 'The Bends' album?" says I, bouldly. "That's not fair, I was drunk", he said -?-, then gave us "High and Dry" off same album brilliantly. Doubtya, boy. There was a lovely song in Suovi, and Rob was brilliant as always. How do ye play guitar? I got a stubby little one, being a stubby little fella, and I can't best the bastern thing atall atall. Ah, 'twas marvellous. Ye'll all be off to Cappanalea now and 'twill be all bearings and pacing. Remember (adopts wise look. With difficulty.) navigation is an important part of leadership. But it's only a part. Steven, mein lumpensammler wunderbar, cheers, boy. So much can be communicated by the raising aloft of a thumb. Everyone else, if ye write yeer names in marker on yeer foreheads, I'll know them. Aahm, bye now. And thanks, nameless ones.
By Jeremiah Kelly

Nov 16,17,18

Freshers Weekend - Dingle

The Full Story.

Nov 11

Sléibh Mish

We hate Sléibh Mish - we do! Oh! We hate Sléibh Mish - we do! We hate Sléibh Mish - we do! Oh! - Sléibh - Mish - we - hate - you! You'll have to excuse my outburst, but I really hate Sléibh Mish... Rumour has it there was blue skies over the Reeks on Sunday, but..ssshhhhh don't tell Meredith or Ciara. There seemed to be an unusually large proportion of sick heads on the bus last Sunday - partying 'til 4 O' Clock in the morning, have you ever heard the likes of it... However, we did have happy Jerry so all was not lost, in fact very little was lost. Sleepy heads hopped off windows and the rustling of crisp editions of the Sunday Times and Sunday World heralded our departure! The proverbial sun was warming if not splitting the proverbial stones so, it looked as if Mike was off the hook, but as we neared Tralee the clouds moved in and the hecklers went to work. In a brilliant strategic move i.e. so he could hang with his new belle Mike decided to put the lives of more than twenty people in my capable shaking hands. But never fear - HAPPY JERRY's here, to Lumpensammler that is! After the initial bog-slog that is Scragg We hate Sléibh Mish - we... Sorry! ...everything went swimmingly. A thick Kerry fog tested my navigational skills to their limit, and once Jerry explained that the RED end pointed north we turned 180^o and head off to An Gearán. The skies eventually cleared and like a bovine in a porcelain(?) store, lanaimid ar adhaidh go dtí an bus... for there was much soccer to be played! Thankfully we were not forced to eat Robin's minstrels.

Nov 4

The Galtees

We all like a bit of consistency, in this world gone mad of ours. With the onset of global warming and climatic change, it's always nice to know that the top of the Galtees will without fail be the scene for a damp mucky mist driven through your triple point ceramic by a minor hurricane. As usual three groups did the mountain - Askea, Ciara and Stephen lead marvellously, ably assisted by Conor, Mike and Bryan. Fatalities were thankfully avoided, though Bryan/Ciara's group had to contour around the peaks instead of over. Such was their intuitive navigational brilliance that they managed to arrive a full kilometre closer to the road, without even realising it! Admittedly, a few people vowed never to climb with them again, but that's just the shock speaking, once they start up on those prescribed drugs we'll all be friends again.
By Bryan Feeney

Oct 28

Purple Mountain

There was a lot riding on Sunday's climb. I had stayed sober at the drink-fest, that was Aidan's Party, on Saturday night so as to be there Sunday morning - it better not disappoint! Well! It didn't. After a few anxious moments, wondering whether or not Conor would appear, we placed our fate in our vice-captain and headed west! A few earlier morning phone calls woke those members who had choosen to escape the Jazz weekend, and those who had not slept silently as the bus thundered towards that Purple Giant... that is until they were gently roused to make valuable contributions to the UCCMC Transport Fund. TICKETS PLEASE I do recall one person asking if he/she should have bought a ticket previously or if he/she could buy one on the bus... ya gotta love 'em don't ya! Amazingly our customary stop at Daly's Diner lasted no more than the allocated ten minutes, I guess when you've spent most of the previous two days clinging to an Armitage Shanks for dear life, you're not in the much of a mood to queue for 15 minutes just to briely sojourn on another! Anyway, the fog encircled Kate Kearney's Cottage like students around a pile of free beer vouchers, and the Three Sirens of the Valley Ciara, Jenny and Jerry, emerged, mug-in-hand as the bus pulled in. We undressed, dressed up, unpacked and packed up - ready for a day in the mountains of the Kingdom. Captainless and disoriented (Is that a word..?) we cried out for leadership and having never passed up an opportunity to be a hero Jerry stepped up (and over) to take charge, of one group at least. Bryans band of merry men choose to tackle the mountain in the early morning dew, while Jerry ckickened out and bulled up the Gap, like a...a...a bull? Tactically I think this was the better call, however, as we gained a fair bit of height by the time we set foot on the mountain. From there it was almost a vertical climb to the summit, except for those bits that weren't - vertical that is! Despite four cases of severe sunburn the day was a glorius success. To truly experience the fluidic nature of air, one is obliged to fill ones lungs with the cool crisp vapours of the Kingdom, is one not? Boy! Nothing shall be said about Jerry's nevous break-down on the way down that resulted in him becoming the Lumpensammlern. So what is the deal with Meredith's "Goatie"?

Oct 24

Mike's Birthday Party

"LEGEND!"

Oct 21

Hungry Hill

"Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day. I've got a wonderful feeling everything's going my way?" Well I for one cannot remember a day on Hungry Hill that did not consist of rain, wind, cold and misery - except yesterday! Yesterday was glorious! The sun was splitting the stones, as were the heads of those wearing runners? well we did warn them. The trip was indeed arduous, and included two toilet stops - I mean which part of GO and BEFORE and YOU and LEAVE do you not understand? I have no idea what time we got to the mountain - then again time is just a manifestation of the subconcious metaphysical...(?) Anywho, while our fearless, yet aging Captain, led one team in a futile attempt to subdue the monster that is the western ridge our seasoned mild-mannered vice-Captain attempted to take it from behind... that's the mountain Meridith - the mountain. ( I can hear his Trinty laugh even as I type!) Well he succeeded in doing so as he eventually caught up, to Bryan's experienced team who were apparently taking the longer route. As it turned out, the only experience Bryan's crowd had was that of the joint German-Finnish Horticultural Society... but we won't talk about that!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
There was much scrambling to be done and there was much scrambling...done! When we eventually stopped for lunch the sheppards, that we hired at great expense, didn't let us or the tourists down. And due to Meridiths, malicious whistling, four cute and cuddly lambs were savaged, by the confused dogs. Gardai are making inquiries...

Oct 14

The Comeraghs

NEVER AGAIN!But more about that later. Well, the Comeraghs have never let us down before and this year was no different. It looked like it would be a very wet and shitty ( can I say shitty? ) day, as we headed east Sunday morning, however, although the mist never really let up, conditions didn't get any worse. Andie brought her pillow again and there were plenty of new faces to be seen as well as some old(er) ones. With fewer numbers than last week Conor led one of the two groups and our faithful captain Mike led the other. It was a bit of a bog slog but we did get a bit of scrambling thrown in too. We are still looking for the American girl who attempted to pull Aidan off the mountain, as he heroically tried to help her get her leg over... we were even treated to an hour of "Happy Gerry"! We've had the privilege! There was much falling and some "bog-hopping" that would put Jonathan Edwards to shame. The two groups met up at the summit, and two assailents raided my pack - the gardai have some strong leads. Anywho, the mist did lift for one or two photos, so develope them ASAP and I'll throw 'em up here! Everyone made it back safe, and we headed for Moby Dicks... and he piled upon the whales white hump... the sum of all his rage and anger... if his chest were a cannon he would have shot his heart upon it... Sorry about that! The sing song on the bus was only AWESOME, I move to ammend the constitution allowing for the mergence of the UCCMC and the UCC Choral Society. All the lyrics are here in the songbook so I won't be accepting any excuses next week. And then there was the Star, but that's a whole other story... See yawl next week! Remember the bus leaves at 8:00am

Oct 7

Buachaill

What a way to kick off the year. We had an excellent turn out. I think around 80 or so people turned up for, I guess, what most people thought would be a trip to the Paps, however so as not to upstage our C.I.T. Brethern (& Sistern) we decided to head for Buachaill instead. The weather was glorious, and almost all of the faces I saw were new! Yes Boy! While a little bit tougher than the Paps, Buachaill offered the perfect re-introduction to our most "AWESOME" of pursuits after a summer of slovenliness and debaucherous drinking. From the top the view was spectacular, alas the Irish Giant refused to peek from the clouds at any stage. Back at the bus every seemed to have dealt exceedingly well, despite one or two upside-down smiles! And as a celebratory gesture some one of us went for a refreshing dip!
Finally the amount of international co-operation for the sing-song on the way back was unprecedented.