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1987
A Ride on the
Wild Side: Horse-Trekking in Ireland
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IRELAND’S wildness,
mysteries and brilliant shades of green make this land stand alone
among earth’s natural wonders’ as Ireland itself stands alone on
the edge of Europe.
In such a land did
a horse named Misty wing me away on a tour of fancy, riding over
Ireland’s earthbound heavens like a conquistador claiming hitherto
unseen land, with six other tourists and a guide, I rode around
Killarney’s Lough Leane, down the Iveragh Peninsula and across the
Ring of Kerry, traipsing through terrain only the hardiest hikers
could tackle, seeing scenery denied buses and cars. Then we
did what one can experience only on horseback: gallop on the beach.
It is an experience
available to anyone, even those who have never set afoot in a stirrup
before.
Misty belongs to the
Killarney Riding Stables in County Kerry, Ireland’s southwesternmost
region. The town of Killarney thrives because of its proximity
to tree brilliant lakes at the edge of Macgillycuddy’s Reeks, Ireland’s
tallest mountain range. Yet the town’s population extends
hospitality unmatched by most other cities whose sole commodity
is tourism silver.
Donal O’ Sullivan,
42, owner of the Killarney Riding Stables, exemplifies such “Irish
charm” in both his presence and his trail-ride operation.
After a dozen years renting out horses for short afternoon treks,
O’ Sullivan started running his seven-day, 100-mile Killarney Reeks
Trail holidays in 1982. He also offers three-day mini-trails
covering any part of the wee-long route. Both packages include
lodging, meals and transfer of luggage.
The Killarney Reeks
Trail is open to all comers, not just tour groups: O’ Sullivan runs
the trek even if only one person signs up. A tour often consists
of complete strangers from Europe, South and North America who do
not meet until they collect at the barn.
Yet riding horses of legendary Irish stock past exhilarating scenery
herds strangers into a close camaraderie, and treks end with tearful
partings. Many riders follow up their new friendships with
letters and an exchange of photos.
Aside from the variety in ages and nationalities, the Killarney
Reeks Trail caters to all levels of riding experience. By
the end of the second day, O’ Sullivan says, first-time riders settle
into the necessary procedures, with the guide giving lessons along
the way. Nevertheless, riders may skip any leg they feel might
be too taxing.
People of “reasonable physical fitness” can take the complete
trail, O’ Sullivan says. Everybody gets sore, experienced
and novice alike, but muscles rarely groan loud enough to incapacitate,
and the scenery soon subdues the physical senses. The only
preparation needed is to buy riding boots and jodhpurs, through
jeans will do fine. O’ Sullivan supplies the riding hat.
He also supplies the horses. O’ Sullivan matches the horse
to the personality and skill level of each rider. These horses
become more than just a means of transportation: like our human
companions on the trail, Misty and her colleagues became our buddies.
At the end of each day’s ride, O’ Sullivan joins groups over
pints of stout and pots of tea to discuss the trek and cater to
his charges’ comfort. The after-trail drinking, in fact, took
more out of the riders in our group than the 17 miles a day on horseback
did. O’ Sullivan’s hospitality proved to be only subtle supplements
to the trail’s overriding attraction: the sights and sound of Ireland.
The first day’s trekking was intended to get us used to our horses
and vice versa while exploring the lush, lake endowed land around
Killarney. We rod around the shores of Killarney ‘s Lough
Leane, part of which is known as Lower Lake.
AFTER first stopping for long looks at Innisfallen, an ever-green-covered
island containing the remains of an 11th Century monastery, we rode
past Ross Castle, a stone fortress in ruins dating from the early
15thCentury. Though not a grand structure along the order
of romantic Welsh, feudal English or eccentric German castles, Ross
Castle does add a dose of Irish mystery to the lake’s natural attributes.
Ross was once home to an O’ Donoghue chieftan, whose misguided
attempts at attaining eternal youth by magic resulted in his jumping
from the castle tower into the lake. The chieftan drowned,
but he did defeat old age. He now has a kingdom below the
waters of Lough Leane, they say, and on some days his golden city
can be seen from a boat. One look at the rainbows rising from
the lake adds credence to the tale.
After a pack lunch of sandwiches, scones, apples and soda on
the lake shores, we rode into the Knockreer Estate, a park laced
with bridle paths rising on a hill overlooking the lake. Each
turn up the hill offered an ever-expanding view of Lough Leane and
its crown of mountains. These bare-domed mountains literally
appeared purple under the misty skies, while all around us lay emerald
pastureland, with grazing horses that must have had legs shorter
on one side to be able to stand on the steep hills.
The second day we started our trek to the Ring of Kerry and up the
mountains. Heading for our first destination, Lake Caragh,
we rode through a landscape in constant change, with cloud formations
roaming overhead bathing a hillside on our right in a splash of
sunlight and forming a halo over a valley to our left. Crayola
Crayons, in their box of 500 colours, has yet to capture all the
shades of green featured in Ireland’s countryside.
The trail first followed the main highway along Lake Caragh to
the Devil’s Elbow, a dangerous curve ( in a car) with scenic overlook
of the lake, Dingle Bay and the mountains of Dingle Peninsula in
the background. Farther up the road, we turned onto a lane
of pavement battered more by time and elements than by heavy use.
This meandered through rocky pasture-land where tiny, timid rams
and annoyed cattle shared the tundra.
We now were in the Ring of Kerry. The normal scenic route
for cars and coaches is a highway that runs along the Dingle Bay
shore, then cuts across the Iveragh Peninsula at the end of the
mountain range. Most drive around the Ring of Kerry: we were
surrounded by it. The only tourists who drive where we rode
are the ones who get lost trying to make some sense out of Ireland’s
road signs.
THE MOST heart-seizing view of the day, though, came that afternoon
after picnicking in a stand of trees by the Caragh River.
Our guide then led us onto a road we could see stretch out before
us, disappearing up a mountain.
The mountain’s name is Seefin, and it rounds off at 1,621 feet,
almost 1,600 feet higher than the picnic area we just left.
From the valley this dome appeared rich brown, but as we ascended,
we rode through a landscape of Picasso colours: dabs of white in
the sheep, gray in the boulders on a field of green brush with specks
of yellow and purple flowers.
The road soon became a rutted farm lane, and after passing through
a gate we rode a stony grass track on up the mountain to a bouldered
alleyway known as Windy Gap, near Seefin’s summit. The horses
did all the stress and straining, leaving us free to merely stare
as we passed through the gap.
It was like the technological trick in “The Wizard of Oz,” as
Dorothy opened the door of her house after the tornado had blown
it to Munchkin Land and the film turned from black-and-white to
colour. Seefin’s Windy Gap opened onto a cinemascopic view
of Glenbeigh and its narrow valley, a slice of varying green wedged
into a ring of golden mountains. Beyond, Dingle Bay lay like
a sequinned fabric of blue glittering in the sun, with sandy beaches
forming a tan felt-tip pen outline. More gold was heaped in
the row of Slieve Mish Mountains across the bay, the backdrop to
this brilliant moment.
The ancient gods would have made this pass their home so that
they could while away the ages staring at the mortals’ domain below,
way down there where the scenic route takes motoring tourists around
the Ring of Kerry.
The three-mile gallop on Rossbeigh Beach came the third morning,
out-stripping all the glories of the previous two days. Roaring
into free flight for the first time like that – my world encased
in the sound of rushing wind and four hooves pounding through tide-swept
sand – goes beyond fantasy, affecting a dozen more senses in the
body than the five that science knows about.
The rider shares the hors’s muscular notion, a motion so gracefully
powerful it has enthralled painters since cave walls were canvas;
yet the ride is as smooth as the back seat of a Rolls Royce.
It seemed we were floating down the beach at Mach 2.5 when we actually
were flying 25mph, all the while surrounded by Ireland’s primitive
landscape.
Afterward we rode to Coomasaharn Lake for lunch, where the sun
shone from above and below, its intensity reflecting in the glare
off the water. The name for this body of water is Irish for
Horseshoe Lake, situated as it is at the foot of Coomacarrea, a
horseshoe-shaped mountain that is 2,00 feet of angled cliff from
lake surface to sky.
The lake has only one access point, a road-cum-lane-cum-path
from Glenbeigh. Its isolation from work-a-day humanity made
Coomasaharn ideal for a lunchtime repast, a setting where one could
still bask in recollection of the morning gallop. This was
the end of my min-trial; the rest of the group were continuing on
the seven-day trail. Even with what I had experienced, our
guide told me I was missing the most interesting scenery of the
trail farther down the Iveragh Peninsula to the beaches of the Atlantic.
I found that hard to believe. I couldn’t fathom how anything
could surpass the ever-changing views of Lough Leane, the scene
from Devil’s Elbow, the ride through Seefin’s Windy Gap, the gallop
on Glenbeigh Beach or lunch at Coomacarrea.
Yet each day’s experience had surpassed the previous enchantments
of the trip.
I took my farewells from our guide, the group, O’ Sullivan and
my good buddy Misty. I embraced them all, just as I had embraced
the land of Ireland, if only briefly.
Killarney
Riding Stables,
Ballydowney,
Killarney,
Co. Kerry,
Ireland.
Telephone:
00353 64 66 31686
Fax: 00353 64 66 34119
From USA:
Telephone: 011 353 64 66 31686
Fax: 011 353 64 66 34119
Killarney
Riding Stables
is a member of the
Horse Riding Ireland
Marketing Association |
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