If you go down to the woods
Kerry’s gorgeous scenery is just blinding
IRISH spurge – or bainne caoine as Gaeilge – grows in profusion on this part of the Kerry Way in the Killarney National Park.
One squirt in the eye from spurge sap and you’re blind. But the ‘milk’ can have a practical application too; it’s a favourite for poachers who spew it into pools. The stunned salmon float gently to the surface.
Spurge spotting represents a side activity in this quest through ancient woodland, primeval bog and heatherclad mountainside — although plants will be up for discussion again, when we’ve got a few kilometres under our belt. We’re only walking part of the Kerry Way, but in my opinion one of the most fascinating.
After leaving Lord Brandon’s Cottage — he doesn’t live there anymore — an easterly bearing takes us round the curve of the Upper Lake, then southwards towards the ancient Killarney oak forest. We’re at the southern end of the Gap of Dunloe, and heading upwards.
Into Derrycunnihy Woods, and underfoot the going is easy. There’s more old oak trees here than you, well, could shake a stick at. In fact, the nature reserve is mostly old native oak woodlands with some patches of bog and lakeshore. It is a classic example of a damp-climate oceanic wood, with more luxuriant growth of mosses and ferns high up in the trees. You feel that if you planted a walking stick here it would grow.
The wood is grazed by two kinds of deer; all year round by the Japanese sika deer introduced in the 19th century and in winter a popular hangout for Ireland’s only native red deer herd After a 30 minute uphill struggle the reward is a flat, verdant expanse of bogland —. Galway’s River meanders across; at the bridge dragonflies flit amongst the orchids. We’ll stop to watch, and won’t worry about the oil pollution in the bog pools. Plants in these damper reaches are absolutely paranoid about drought; when water levels drop they extrude an oily substance over the surface to prevent evaporation. It’s a cunning plan used by one of our favourite carnivorous plants, the sundew, while it gets on with its main business, devouring insects. These small, red plants growing along the edges of bog pools are something of an oddity. The can photosynthesise like all other plants, but they choose to hunt animals instead. Or at least wait until a hapless insect happens along.
Sundews have been used for centuries in Europe in traditional traditional health remedies. It’s used to treat ailments such as asthma and chest infections. So if you’ve a bit of a cough, boil some sundew up in hot water.
Mind you , it’s also reckoned to be an aphrodisiac— so be careful out there.
Back on the trail, and just beyond the bridge a sharp left-hand turn throws the trail back north-east towards Killarney. The path rises sharply now, through a luxuriant tangle of holly, alder, bilberry and moss until it reaches Esknamucky Glen. A few hundred feet climb, and it’s into the open again; with luck we’ll get what the locals here call a “lazy wind”; one which goes round you, but not through you.
The path threads its way between Cromaglan Mountain and Stumpacommen now, reaching its highest point at 1100 feet. Over our left shoulder is the brooding hulk of Carrauntoohil, plus its half dozen muscular neighbours who top 3000 feet — the altitude with attitude in these parts.
The path, which at this point was once the Old Kenmare Road, now crosses the Ferta Fields, with old, weather-eroded Torc Mountain to the left.
Before reaching Clogheen, on a huge slab of red sandstone is a piece of intriguing graffiti. It says quite simply, “John O’Neill, Tippy Regiment, 1875”. What the British Army was doing up this path we’ll probably never know — but it’s unlikely to have been studying sundew plants.