To cut a long story short, we finished the walk at around 11.30am on Saturday, 27th June. We'll try to slot in entries for the final four days at some stage; highlights such as the appearance of several more guardian angels and our epic 18 hours of walking on Thursday certainly warrant it. For now, here is the final route taken, over 600k and 17 days, through 9 counties. (The places where we stopped for the night are capitalised.)
Mizen Head - Goleen - Durrus - BANTRY - Kealkill - Inchigeelagh - Toons Bridge - MACROOM - Coachford - Donoughmore Cross - Bweeng - Dromahane - MALLOW - New Twopothouse - Buttevant - Charleville - CROOM - Patrickswell - Dooradoyle - Limerick - CRATLOE - Sixmilebridge - Kilkishen - Tulla - NOWHERE - Gort - Kiltartan - ARDRAHAN - Kilcolgan - Clarinbridge - Oranmore - GALWAY - Cloonboo - Headford - SHRULE - Claremorris - KNOCK - Kilkelly - Charlestown - TUBBERCURRY - Ballinacarrow - Collooney - Ballysadare - SLIGO - Drumcliff - Grange - Bundoran - BALLYSHANNON - Ballintra - Laghy - Barnesmore Gap - BALLYBOFEY - Convoy - Raphoe - St. Johnstone - DERRY - Muff - Quigley's Point - Carndonagh - Malin - MALIN HEAD HOSTEL - Malin Head
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
Update on the Mission Days 13-14
So the last two days went to plan, basically Sligo through Leitrim to Bundoran, Co. Donegal on day 13, and on through Ballyshannon and the Bluestack Mountains to a lake a few miles shy of Ballybofey on day 14.
As I write, a wrenching change of policy is taking place - basically we're going to just blast it out over the next two days and finish on Friday night.
It's going to be rough.
Due to a lack of phone battery this will be the last of the updates from the Mission until they finish when McKinney will blog on days 13-16 in detail. Check back over the weekend to see how the Missions adventures ended.
- Cillian
Thursday, June 25, 2009
The Mission Mentioned on the Radio
Ronan Collins gave the Mission a brief mention this afternoon along with those doing other charity walks around the country.
The link to the show is below and the mention is around the 17:40 minute mark. The link will be active for a week until Thursday 2nd of July.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Day 12: Tubbercurry to Sligo
It took an unusually tough morning slog to get us down to our first rest stop of Ballinacarrow, although we could have helped ourselves by getting started a little earlier. It was a humid, muggy day and the N17 grew no wider until after Collooney, where we paid Kaner's uncle a quick visit before taking the dual carriageway straight up to Sligo Town.
The ultimate objective was Strandhill, where the Kanes have a holiday home (quickly dubbed the Last Homely House by Lord of the Rings fan McKeating).
McKinney complicated matters by getting lost without his phone in Sligo and wasn't picked up for the lateral journey by car to Strandhill until 8pm. Once there, however, lasagne and garlic bread were well received, as was a shoutout by yet another of Grennan's friends on Ocean FM, requesting that 'Walk This Way' be played for us. This may account for the otherwise improbable decision of several walkers, clearly gluttons for puishment, to go for an evening stroll before bed.
Distance Day 12: 35km
Theme of the Day: Thundering Lorries
Theme of the Day: Thundering Lorries
Word of the Day: "Slog"
Day 11: Knock to Tubbercurry
"They'll treat ye well in Tubber", a passing motorist assured us as he dropped a fiver in the bucket.
How right he was - scarcely had we passed into the town later that evening, vaguely thinking about finding a spot to camp on the outskirts of the town, than a woman rushed out from her house to see what we were up to. Half an hour later, we were safely encamped on the pristine grass of the local GAA pitch. Mary, our guardian angel, inveigled the main man himself, Dick Byrne, into dropping by to open the clubhouse for us, and the Kennedys, a local family whose daughter suffers from cystic fibrosis, dropped by for a visit and pressed money on us for dinner and a couple of pints.
Tubbercurry, Co. Sligo: an unlikely contender for the best place in Ireland.
All this largesse was particularly welcome after a pretty tough day spent entirely on the N17. We had split into two separate groups on the way out of Knock. Kaner, nursing a sore Achilles, took it slow alongside Smodge and Tim, while the other four powered ahead through beauty spots like Hagfield, the sun ever lurking behind low-slung clouds.
Boredom hit hard, with Barry reduced at one point to "Like, why is it a PAIR of pants?" as a conversation starter.
Arriving in Charlestown, however, spirits rose as we got stuck into a good sit-down meal and dissected the Lions result with the aid of Neil Francis and the Sunday Tribune. A few metres down the road, we crossed into Sligo and stopped for the obligatory photo before ploughing on. The road narrowed thereafter, making it a single-file trudge up to the hospitable folk of Tubbercurry. Not quite sated by the milk of human kindness and the local Chinese, we grabbed a few cans of Bavaria and set the world to rights before settling down.
Distance Day 11: 35km
Theme of the Day: Renewed faith in the decency of mankind
Word of the Day: "Buckeroo"
Theme of the Day: Renewed faith in the decency of mankind
Word of the Day: "Buckeroo"
Monday, June 22, 2009
Day 10: Shrule to Knock
With morale bumping up against the stratosphere following a good night's sleep and a look at the giant picture of ourselves in the Indo, the crew set off at a rattling pace with the aim of making it to Claremorris in time for the Lions match.
The weather was with us once more; Smodge decided to preserve his burnt shoulder by fashioning some sort of a tunic and strode through the peaceful countryside looking rather like a character from the bible.
Although we were looking to do 25k in just under five hours, McKeating's love for rugby outweighed his enthusiasm for breaks and complaining. With the arch-Wasp onside we made superb time, charging through the door of the pub just as the Sarth Effricans were finishing their anthem. The place was impressively full, and we are pleased to report that Mayo people know their rugby. Despite the result, the lengthy break ensured an easy final 10k down the N17 to Knock, where we finished the day not long past 6pm.
This is easy!
Distance Day 10: 35km approx
Theme of the Day: Smodge's various states of toplessness
Word of the Day: "Breakdown"
Theme of the Day: Smodge's various states of toplessness
Word of the Day: "Breakdown"
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Mission in the Media (Again!)
Here's yesterday's article and picture from the Irish Independent. Many thanks to Bryan Buckley for the links.
Saturday June 20 2009
A GROUP of students are trekking across the length of the country in a fundraising walk in aid of cystic fibrosis sufferers, writes Una Mulhall.
They will reach Knock, Co Mayo today as they continue their 570km journey from Mizen Head to Malin Head. They set out on June 11.
UCD psychology student Barry Flinn and friend Gavin Kane who decided to "do something pro-active and give ourselves a bit of a challenge" came up with the idea to raise funds for the charity in February.
The gruelling journey has had its pit-falls. Ten people set off on the trip, but three were forced to abandon it.
The group hope to raise at least €10,000 for Cystic Fibrosis Ireland. Their progress can be followed on their internet blog, http://www.blogger.com/www.mycharity.ie/event/mizenmalinmission.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Updated Route
The route the Mission will take for the remainder of the walk has been updated again:
June 20th: Shrule to Knock
June 21st: Knock to Tubercurry
June 22nd: Tubercurry to Sligo Town
June 23rd: Sligo Town to Ballyshannon
June 24th: Ballyshannon to Ballybofey
June 25th: Ballybofey to Manor Cunningham
June 26th: Manor Cunningham to Muff
(The route change here is, one would assume, purely for entertainment purposes. Cue many jokes and photo ops!)
June 27th: Muff to Malin Head
The updated map is available here - Mizen-Malin Map. Thanks to Simon who had it updated before I even asked.
Day 9: Galway to Shrule
Began the day plodding down the distinctly unscenic Headford Road, past truck testing centres and composting facilities, all along a road without a bend for five miles, at least.
The team now barely pauses for even the most dangerous-looking traffic, only slowing down where caught in the slipstream of passing trucks.
We hit a good pace, if only to escape the surrounding dreariness.
Beyond Cloonboo, we came into more normal countryside and its attendant charms; the warning against trespass into one field came in the form of a handmade sign reading simply "Poison on Lands".
A good break was had in Headford and, with Centra rolls all round, we were ready to shuffle off again onto Shrule and the beginnings of Co. Mayo. We had a photoshoot with a lovely man named Ray, who was nevertheless pleased to inform us that "I can't imagine why the Indo wants this". Afterwards, we took a ride with Grennan's dad Adam to the family home on Lough Corrib, there to horse some chicken and rice into us and spend the night in the deepest of sleeps.
Distance Day 9: 30km approx
Theme of the Day: Infinity
Word of the Day: "Like" (in the Facebook sense)
Theme of the Day: Infinity
Word of the Day: "Like" (in the Facebook sense)
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Day 8: Ardrahan to Galway
On the road early after a nice chat with Eileen at the B&B and a nice silence with her husband John as he drove us back to the main road. Tim's dad, a true hero, dropped by in time to join us for a serious breakfast and took our gear on to Grennan's gaff near Cross, where barring a massive balls-up (which is not beyond the bounds of our ingenuity) we are spending the night of Day 9. Bagless walking and Eileen's cooking made for good pace up through Clarinbridge toward Oranmore. McKeating had done a pretty poor job as Morale Officer the previous day (indiscretions such as "Isn't this the shittest thing you've ever done?" spring to mind) but renewed his duties with gusto, although a hearty rendition of "100 bottles of beer on the wall" may not have been what his fellow walkers had in mind. He finished it, too.
After a brief pit-stop in Oranmore, we took the coast road into Galway city, which afforded us a glimpse of the Atlantic for the first time since Bantry and caught an almighty gale roaring in off the sea. The view and continuing sunshine more than made up for it, though. We made it into our hostel at 4pm and immediately rushed out again to get the street collection out of the way so that we could go and gorge ourselves. Aoife and Laura met up with us and chipped in, while Smodge took time off to buy himself a ladies rain jacket for 7 euro in Dunnes before helping us shake down an unsuspecting city.
A couple of hours in, it became apparent that the apathy of the Galway citizenry and our own increasing tiredness made it unprofitable to continue, so we took the money and ran to a nice Thai restaurant recommended by Laura. Giving ourselves the luxury of a 9.30 start the next day allowed for a couple of pints on Shop Street before the inevitable exhaustion kicked in and we retired to Sleepzone to collapse in good order.
Distance Day 8: 25k approx
Theme of the Day: R&R
Word of the Day: "Orange"
After a brief pit-stop in Oranmore, we took the coast road into Galway city, which afforded us a glimpse of the Atlantic for the first time since Bantry and caught an almighty gale roaring in off the sea. The view and continuing sunshine more than made up for it, though. We made it into our hostel at 4pm and immediately rushed out again to get the street collection out of the way so that we could go and gorge ourselves. Aoife and Laura met up with us and chipped in, while Smodge took time off to buy himself a ladies rain jacket for 7 euro in Dunnes before helping us shake down an unsuspecting city.
A couple of hours in, it became apparent that the apathy of the Galway citizenry and our own increasing tiredness made it unprofitable to continue, so we took the money and ran to a nice Thai restaurant recommended by Laura. Giving ourselves the luxury of a 9.30 start the next day allowed for a couple of pints on Shop Street before the inevitable exhaustion kicked in and we retired to Sleepzone to collapse in good order.
Distance Day 8: 25k approx
Theme of the Day: R&R
Word of the Day: "Orange"
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Day 7: Nowhere, the Middle of to Ardrahan
This is how it all went wrong.
The group settled down for their drinks at the clearing in the woods, minus McKinney who entented himself early to think about girls and blogging. Much needed banter was had and an absolutely filthy rap pioneered on the road was perfected. Since no one tent was able to accommodate the whole contingent, it made perfect sense to try to adjust things so that Barry and Fitzy's faced into a sheltered nook. Attempts to shift it over caused it to collapse. This was particularly unfortunate given that Kaner and Tim had by now worked out that their "drummer" tent was designed with style rather than the average annual rainfall in the West of Ireland in mind.
All five therefore plumped for the uncomfortable yet dry option, and retired to Ronan's car. Kaner and Tim occupied the front seats; Fitzy and Sam slumped in the rear sides; and all 6'4'' of Barry went long dog down the middle, awakening every ten minutes or so throughout the night to alternate his extended leg. Meanwhile, Grennan and Ronan retired to their Dunnes Stores 3-man with McKinney, which proved better at keeping out water initially. And I must stress the "initially". The sensation of being soaked very gradually from the feet up is not one that we can recommend.
We were up early, needless to say, and packed up in a shower of horrible midges. Those in the car left it to stretch as those in the tent climbed in to ward off hypothermia. Drummer and Dunnes were left to stand in the clearing, a testament to the art of truely crap tent-making.
After that, we made surprisingly good time towards Gort, possibly because we were so glad to get shot of our campsite. Pausing only for a brief photo-op at the Galway border, we pushed on into Gort and picked up our bags at the local Garda station, where Ronan had dropped them before heading back to Dublin to reflect on how much he hated us all. We then discovered that Gort's high Brazilian population - leading to it being known to local racists as "Rio" - made it a pretty hopping, friendly little town, and that the Gallery Cafe on the main square didn't mind us lurching in and stinking the place up. Success.
Morale recovered as the pizzas arrived. Surviving the woods gave us the fairly logical belief that we could survive anything the Mission had to throw at us. Unfortunately, although eight walked into Gort, only six walked out. Fitzy, possibly the least motivated man alive, hopped on the bus to Galway and hence to Dublin, leaving the group dangerously light in off-the-cuff rapping skillz. Aoife joined him on the first leg to meet up with Laura and Smodge in Galway and await the arrival of the walkers the following day.
Undaunted, the six survivors tramped on to Ardrahan, found the nicest B&B in the world and lived to walk another day.
Distance Day 7: 30k approx
Theme of the Day: Redemption
Word of the Day: "Sorry"
The group settled down for their drinks at the clearing in the woods, minus McKinney who entented himself early to think about girls and blogging. Much needed banter was had and an absolutely filthy rap pioneered on the road was perfected. Since no one tent was able to accommodate the whole contingent, it made perfect sense to try to adjust things so that Barry and Fitzy's faced into a sheltered nook. Attempts to shift it over caused it to collapse. This was particularly unfortunate given that Kaner and Tim had by now worked out that their "drummer" tent was designed with style rather than the average annual rainfall in the West of Ireland in mind.
All five therefore plumped for the uncomfortable yet dry option, and retired to Ronan's car. Kaner and Tim occupied the front seats; Fitzy and Sam slumped in the rear sides; and all 6'4'' of Barry went long dog down the middle, awakening every ten minutes or so throughout the night to alternate his extended leg. Meanwhile, Grennan and Ronan retired to their Dunnes Stores 3-man with McKinney, which proved better at keeping out water initially. And I must stress the "initially". The sensation of being soaked very gradually from the feet up is not one that we can recommend.
We were up early, needless to say, and packed up in a shower of horrible midges. Those in the car left it to stretch as those in the tent climbed in to ward off hypothermia. Drummer and Dunnes were left to stand in the clearing, a testament to the art of truely crap tent-making.
After that, we made surprisingly good time towards Gort, possibly because we were so glad to get shot of our campsite. Pausing only for a brief photo-op at the Galway border, we pushed on into Gort and picked up our bags at the local Garda station, where Ronan had dropped them before heading back to Dublin to reflect on how much he hated us all. We then discovered that Gort's high Brazilian population - leading to it being known to local racists as "Rio" - made it a pretty hopping, friendly little town, and that the Gallery Cafe on the main square didn't mind us lurching in and stinking the place up. Success.
Morale recovered as the pizzas arrived. Surviving the woods gave us the fairly logical belief that we could survive anything the Mission had to throw at us. Unfortunately, although eight walked into Gort, only six walked out. Fitzy, possibly the least motivated man alive, hopped on the bus to Galway and hence to Dublin, leaving the group dangerously light in off-the-cuff rapping skillz. Aoife joined him on the first leg to meet up with Laura and Smodge in Galway and await the arrival of the walkers the following day.
Undaunted, the six survivors tramped on to Ardrahan, found the nicest B&B in the world and lived to walk another day.
Distance Day 7: 30k approx
Theme of the Day: Redemption
Word of the Day: "Sorry"
Day 6: Cratloe to Nowhere, The Middle of
Duck islands have gotten a bad name of late, but the one in Sixmilebridge is so adorable that, quite frankly, they could have embezzled half the emergency budget money to pay for it and we wouldn't have cared. They also have an amazingly official-looking sign on the road coming into the town from the south saying "Caution: Ducks crossing", which raised morale a good six points.
We had come into Sixmilebridge from Cratloe, having decided upon the change of route outlined in the Day 5 post at exactly the time Simon Corcoran put together this handy map of what we had been going around telling everyone we were doing. Thanks anyway, Simon, but having given ourselves the extra day to Galway the Day 6 stroll was now from Cratloe to some indeterminate point around 30k north, where we would pitch our tents. Grennan's friend Ronan, to his eternal credit, joined us for a walk and, later, a nice bit of baggage hauling. When we get around to writing a list of thank yous, his name is going to feature prominently.
Anyway, it all went swimmingly as far as Tulla (a village which brands itself to the outside world as "Tulla - The Windswept Hill", for reasons that have everything to do with geographical accuracy and very little to do with commercial good sense). Aoife was back, making us an octet again with Smodge and his gigantic ankle back enjoying the bottomless hospitality of the Flinns in Croom. The one downside was the return of the unnecessarily vicious dogs as we returned to isolated farmland. McKinney, who tends to flinch when faced with even the cuddliest of labradors, had to be coaxed through an encounter with four particularly psychotic animals by Aoife, whose extreme blisters presumably left her with no room for fear of any new horror.
The other downside was the exponential increase in that new phenomenon on the walk, Inane and Impossible Questions. Barry, Kaner and McKinney tend to be most afflicted by these. A typical set, tramping along a stretch of road much like any other, might go:
"Where are we going next?"
"How long will it take us to get there?"
"Is it gonna rain between now and then?"
"Will there be shops there? Like, decent shops?"
"Do you think we'll be able to get [some pointless item] in the shop?"
"What'll we do if they don't have [some pointless item]?"
All posited to the sound of grinding teeth and rising blood pressure. The nadir of this fad - another byproduct of low morale, of course - came when the immortal question "Do you think this is a good spot to take a pee?" was asked by one of the more persistent culprits, who should in the interests of group solidarity remain nameless.
Actually, fuck it, it was Tim.
At any rate, despite being hit with the first daytime rain of the walk when entering Knockjames (i.e., a church and a house), we made decent progress to our unspecified point about 18k shy of Gort. Ronan, gods bless him, arrived by car with our bags, tents and lots of Bavaria. Fitzy found a likely spot in the woods, so we pitched camp, cracked open a few tins and, ignoring the constant drizzle, prepared to have some craic after a rough few days. Nothing could possibly go wrong.
Distance Day 6: 30k approx
Theme of the Day: Questions to which no-one could possibly know the answer, but which are asked regardless.
Word of the Day: "Bitches"
We had come into Sixmilebridge from Cratloe, having decided upon the change of route outlined in the Day 5 post at exactly the time Simon Corcoran put together this handy map of what we had been going around telling everyone we were doing. Thanks anyway, Simon, but having given ourselves the extra day to Galway the Day 6 stroll was now from Cratloe to some indeterminate point around 30k north, where we would pitch our tents. Grennan's friend Ronan, to his eternal credit, joined us for a walk and, later, a nice bit of baggage hauling. When we get around to writing a list of thank yous, his name is going to feature prominently.
Anyway, it all went swimmingly as far as Tulla (a village which brands itself to the outside world as "Tulla - The Windswept Hill", for reasons that have everything to do with geographical accuracy and very little to do with commercial good sense). Aoife was back, making us an octet again with Smodge and his gigantic ankle back enjoying the bottomless hospitality of the Flinns in Croom. The one downside was the return of the unnecessarily vicious dogs as we returned to isolated farmland. McKinney, who tends to flinch when faced with even the cuddliest of labradors, had to be coaxed through an encounter with four particularly psychotic animals by Aoife, whose extreme blisters presumably left her with no room for fear of any new horror.
The other downside was the exponential increase in that new phenomenon on the walk, Inane and Impossible Questions. Barry, Kaner and McKinney tend to be most afflicted by these. A typical set, tramping along a stretch of road much like any other, might go:
"Where are we going next?"
"How long will it take us to get there?"
"Is it gonna rain between now and then?"
"Will there be shops there? Like, decent shops?"
"Do you think we'll be able to get [some pointless item] in the shop?"
"What'll we do if they don't have [some pointless item]?"
All posited to the sound of grinding teeth and rising blood pressure. The nadir of this fad - another byproduct of low morale, of course - came when the immortal question "Do you think this is a good spot to take a pee?" was asked by one of the more persistent culprits, who should in the interests of group solidarity remain nameless.
Actually, fuck it, it was Tim.
At any rate, despite being hit with the first daytime rain of the walk when entering Knockjames (i.e., a church and a house), we made decent progress to our unspecified point about 18k shy of Gort. Ronan, gods bless him, arrived by car with our bags, tents and lots of Bavaria. Fitzy found a likely spot in the woods, so we pitched camp, cracked open a few tins and, ignoring the constant drizzle, prepared to have some craic after a rough few days. Nothing could possibly go wrong.
Distance Day 6: 30k approx
Theme of the Day: Questions to which no-one could possibly know the answer, but which are asked regardless.
Word of the Day: "Bitches"
Monday, June 15, 2009
Map of the Route
This makes it much easier to visualise the route being travelled by the Mission. A big thank you to Simon Corcoran for this contribution.
Day 5: Croom to Cratloe
Deep Heat. Bandages. Vaseline. Allevyn. Plasters. Gone.
Actually, it wasn't that efficient a departure. There was a serious Talk to be had the previous night, given the state that four days on the Mission has left us in. We recognised that we can't go at the same pace for another two weeks without losing more people. Also, the bags are an absolute deal-breaker - going more than, say, 30k with rucksacks leads to serious injury and leaves one unable to function the next day.
That said, we do need to be done by Sunday 28th at the latest, as people have various commitments, so although we do have a couple of days to play with there's not that much scope for slackening off. Walking Ireland is going to involve a certain amount of hardship, after all. So we decided to take 3 days to get to Galway rather than 2, try to shave a few k off some of the latter stages and inveigle people into coming down to transport our bags no matter what crazy promises we have to make.
That meant we could take an easy Day 5 - a mere 30k to Cratloe in south Clare, leaving at a decadently belated 11am. We were back to eight with the return of Fitzy, and without bags, so it should have been an easy jaunt. Pace was good as far as Patrickswell, and from there on in the scenery changed to suburban and then urban as we entered the outskirts of Limerick city. Unfortunately, the loss of idyllic rural pastures coincided with a slight souring of the mood. While the shorter distance should have led to higher morale, the atmosphere went south during the afternoon, with even Barry coming close to losing his famous cool. This can, perhaps, be attributed to the loss of rhythm arising out of new surroundings and a closer destination. Breaks proliferated as every pause to check directions or replenish the pharmaceutical supply was taken as the signal for a nice sit down.
In fairness, everyone was nursing their fair share of niggling aches and strains, and eventually these took their tool. As we struggled along the N18 and left Limerick behind - pausing to fake happiness for a photo at the "Welcome to County Clare" sign - the big man himself, Sam Hodgins, finally succumbed to his now massively swollen ankle and retired to a handy petrol station for a hit of Nurofen and his trusty iPod. The seven survivors trudged on, depressed, but spirits did rise as we approached the turn-off to Cratloe and composed a song in Smodge's honour, to the tune of Kelly Clarkson's "Since You've Been Gone".
Still, with Laura awaiting us in Galway, Aoife scheduled to take on her blisters once more tomorrow and Sam plotting a return on Day 6 or 7, the team remains united. With two counties down and offers of help pouring in, the assault on Galway can begin in earnest tomorrow.
Distance Day 5: 30k approx
Theme of the Day: Earnest strategic discussions
Word of the Day: "Pharmacy"
Actually, it wasn't that efficient a departure. There was a serious Talk to be had the previous night, given the state that four days on the Mission has left us in. We recognised that we can't go at the same pace for another two weeks without losing more people. Also, the bags are an absolute deal-breaker - going more than, say, 30k with rucksacks leads to serious injury and leaves one unable to function the next day.
That said, we do need to be done by Sunday 28th at the latest, as people have various commitments, so although we do have a couple of days to play with there's not that much scope for slackening off. Walking Ireland is going to involve a certain amount of hardship, after all. So we decided to take 3 days to get to Galway rather than 2, try to shave a few k off some of the latter stages and inveigle people into coming down to transport our bags no matter what crazy promises we have to make.
That meant we could take an easy Day 5 - a mere 30k to Cratloe in south Clare, leaving at a decadently belated 11am. We were back to eight with the return of Fitzy, and without bags, so it should have been an easy jaunt. Pace was good as far as Patrickswell, and from there on in the scenery changed to suburban and then urban as we entered the outskirts of Limerick city. Unfortunately, the loss of idyllic rural pastures coincided with a slight souring of the mood. While the shorter distance should have led to higher morale, the atmosphere went south during the afternoon, with even Barry coming close to losing his famous cool. This can, perhaps, be attributed to the loss of rhythm arising out of new surroundings and a closer destination. Breaks proliferated as every pause to check directions or replenish the pharmaceutical supply was taken as the signal for a nice sit down.
In fairness, everyone was nursing their fair share of niggling aches and strains, and eventually these took their tool. As we struggled along the N18 and left Limerick behind - pausing to fake happiness for a photo at the "Welcome to County Clare" sign - the big man himself, Sam Hodgins, finally succumbed to his now massively swollen ankle and retired to a handy petrol station for a hit of Nurofen and his trusty iPod. The seven survivors trudged on, depressed, but spirits did rise as we approached the turn-off to Cratloe and composed a song in Smodge's honour, to the tune of Kelly Clarkson's "Since You've Been Gone".
Still, with Laura awaiting us in Galway, Aoife scheduled to take on her blisters once more tomorrow and Sam plotting a return on Day 6 or 7, the team remains united. With two counties down and offers of help pouring in, the assault on Galway can begin in earnest tomorrow.
Distance Day 5: 30k approx
Theme of the Day: Earnest strategic discussions
Word of the Day: "Pharmacy"
Mission in the media
We did look to get a bit of a media buzz going about the Mission, but didn't think it was going anywhere until Laura went to the hospital and the doctors told her that they'd heard all about the walk (and were expecting the rest of us to limp in after her, but that's a different story). The amount of cars giving us a beep and thumbs-up has definitely increased, and when some of the group went into a house up in the Shehys some miles shy of Inchageela looking for water, the owners said that they'd heard about us on the local radio station. In Bantry, the local councillor had us do a photo shoot for that epitome of newspapering muscle, the Southern Star. We also got a shout-out on Joe Duffy, and might get a cheeky photo into the Indo in the next few days, so keep an eye out for that!
The benefit of this, of course, comes in awareness-raising and contributions to the charity. We've raised nearly 250 euro on the road, which is really unexpected (we did carry buckets along for the planned collection in Galway, but most contain mixed nuts or spare socks), and is a real tribute to the generosity of the average punter, as well as the spectacle we cut with our CF T-shirts, luminous jackets and horrific odour. So spread the word and keep those donations flowing in!
The benefit of this, of course, comes in awareness-raising and contributions to the charity. We've raised nearly 250 euro on the road, which is really unexpected (we did carry buckets along for the planned collection in Galway, but most contain mixed nuts or spare socks), and is a real tribute to the generosity of the average punter, as well as the spectacle we cut with our CF T-shirts, luminous jackets and horrific odour. So spread the word and keep those donations flowing in!
Day 4: Mallow to Croom
Gavin Kane, hottest guy in BESS, is probably the man suffering least on the walk so far. This may be partly as a result of his inhuman attachment to stretching, which had ladies from Bantry to Buttevant doing double takes as the Mission's Safety Officer, resplendent in luminous yellow vest, psychedelic shades and shorts riding just above the knee put himself through various fantastic contortions.
Even following his example couldn't save Fitzy and Aoife from being hit by injury and being forced out of Day 4. Aoife, sporting blisters the approximate size and ferocity of a cornered raccoon, traveled to Croom by car (well in, Dennis and Margaret) alongside Fitzy, whose calf veins had turned a rather fetching shade of black. Only seven were left to pound the hard shoulder due north along the N20 on yet another 40k+ day. Fortunate yet again with the weather (the farmer tans are coming in nicely), the early stint to Buttevant via New Twopothouse was without incident, although vigilance along the road was essential.
The haul from Buttevant to our lunch stopover in Charleville in the mid-afternoon heat was tough going, requiring two stops along the way. SuperValu rolls put new heart into us, though, and at 4pm we set out afresh. It wasn't long until we hit the first county border of the Mission. Reflecting on our time in Cork, on the hospitality of the people, and the beauty of the countryside, and the soul-crushing distances, and the strength-sapping hills, we railed against the inadequacy of human language adequately to give expression to such a range of conflicting emotions, and we said "Fuck you, Cork", and on we went.
Even following his example couldn't save Fitzy and Aoife from being hit by injury and being forced out of Day 4. Aoife, sporting blisters the approximate size and ferocity of a cornered raccoon, traveled to Croom by car (well in, Dennis and Margaret) alongside Fitzy, whose calf veins had turned a rather fetching shade of black. Only seven were left to pound the hard shoulder due north along the N20 on yet another 40k+ day. Fortunate yet again with the weather (the farmer tans are coming in nicely), the early stint to Buttevant via New Twopothouse was without incident, although vigilance along the road was essential.
The haul from Buttevant to our lunch stopover in Charleville in the mid-afternoon heat was tough going, requiring two stops along the way. SuperValu rolls put new heart into us, though, and at 4pm we set out afresh. It wasn't long until we hit the first county border of the Mission. Reflecting on our time in Cork, on the hospitality of the people, and the beauty of the countryside, and the soul-crushing distances, and the strength-sapping hills, we railed against the inadequacy of human language adequately to give expression to such a range of conflicting emotions, and we said "Fuck you, Cork", and on we went.
Barry took the lead, with the smell of the auld sod in his nostrils as we sought the santuary of the Flinn residence just shy of Croom. Driven on by the thoughts of a home-cooked meal and the pampering of Mammy Flinn, we set a decent pace for the first few kilometres but soon slackened off. McKeating, hellbent on infecting the group with the Wasp mindset (see post for Day 3), allied with Tim (shoes off at the first sign of a halt) in forcing break after break in the latter stages of the march. They both had good excuses, mind, given that McKeating simply should not be walking on his ankle ligaments ("Worst case scenario, I end up with a mild Nurofen addiction. I'm willing to take that hit.") and Tim was increasingly discomfited by toe problems. With Barry registering his first blister of the trip and Grennan sporting a nice rash, it was no surprise that even Smodge was limping by the time we reached our destination.
Where there were food, showers and real beds. Totally worth it.
Distance Day 4: 44k approx
Theme of the Day: Nurofen
Word of the Day: "Morale"
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Day 3: Macroom to Mallow
Our intention was to go into our Day 2 travails when we had recovered, but frankly the less said about that experience the better. Perhaps when we are all less traumatised more detail can be added. The most immediate outcome, at any rate, was the loss of the indomitable Laura Motherway following 15 hours of walking under a full rucksack on what transpired to be a crushed fracture of the knee and damaged ankle ligaments. The fact that she managed to limp even as far as Killkeal, and uncomplainingly at that, speaks volumes for the strength of her character (and possibly to the power of 11 Neurofen in 24 hours). We're devastated to lose her.
The rest of us, chastened, made a late morning exit from Macroom and headed toward Mallow. Given our experience over Day 2, we stood no chance of making it with bags in tow, so it would be no exaggeration to say that the arrival of the legendary Denis and Margaret Devane to pick up our fallen comrade and gear saved the day. Morale was, therefore, surprisingly high as we took the R618 almost due east to Coachford. By the time we had had a quick pit-stop and turned north onto a small but generally quiet road straight to Mallow, though, even without the bags pace had slackened. The preponderance of vicious looking dogs in the gardens of most houses - a puzzling discrepancy in the otherwise flawlessly friendly atmosphere of West Cork - were calculated to wreck even the most determined buzz. Although the larger beasts were generally chained up - presumably to be given the run of the yard after dark to savage any neighbour unwise enough to pop in for a cup of tea - the smaller, yappier ones didn't do much for morale either.
As a result, we decided to embrace the now invariable fracturing of the group and allow those with more energy to forge ahead, leaving the rest to go at their own pace. This latter group was quickly dubbed the "Wasps" by its most enthusiastic member, McKeating, with the speedier contingent of Grennan, Smodge, Tim and McKinney emerging as the "Stingrays", thus fixing them with the stigma of association with Steve Irwin's death as well as allowing to Wasps to characterise themselves as the plucky underdogs rather than a bunch of lazy schismatics.
Both groups had a decent time of it in the afternoon session, however, as the gently rolling hills of north Cork soothed our spirits. The Wasps took lunch at Donoughmore Cross, a village consisting, in its entirety, of about 6 houses, two pubs sitting side by side, a Famine memorial and a ruined church. Meanwhile, the forward group were discovering Cork's very own Twilight Zone, the eerie village of Bweeng. Apart from one house, a barn and an abandoned pub, the entire village was brand new and made to the same suburban housing estate pattern, as if it had been picked up whole from Cork city and dropped in the middle of the countryside. In the pub, into which Grennan ventured for water, we found the entire population of the townland crammed in watching Cork v Kerry in, like, Gaelic Football or some shit?
Cork's eventual victory ensured a warm reception for the Wasps in LJs of Dromoughane, where they stopped for a greasy take-away prior to the final slog into Mallow. Donations, advice and offers of pear cider flowed in from the locals; morale soared.
Surely the best part of the day, though, was the herds of cows that would occasionally gallop the length of their field alongside us in expectation of food, milking or whatever it is that farmers do with them. As Grennan put it, "A guy with a sign made of fireworks saying 'Come on lads!' couldn't be more motivational than that." All agreed, and reflective silence followed until Tim's contribution of "Does anyone else think cows have really beautiful faces?" was registered. Answer came there none.
We got to Mallow, camped in a park, all was well.
Distance Day 3: 44km approx
Theme of the Day: Motivational/demotivational animals
Word of the Day: "Break?"
The rest of us, chastened, made a late morning exit from Macroom and headed toward Mallow. Given our experience over Day 2, we stood no chance of making it with bags in tow, so it would be no exaggeration to say that the arrival of the legendary Denis and Margaret Devane to pick up our fallen comrade and gear saved the day. Morale was, therefore, surprisingly high as we took the R618 almost due east to Coachford. By the time we had had a quick pit-stop and turned north onto a small but generally quiet road straight to Mallow, though, even without the bags pace had slackened. The preponderance of vicious looking dogs in the gardens of most houses - a puzzling discrepancy in the otherwise flawlessly friendly atmosphere of West Cork - were calculated to wreck even the most determined buzz. Although the larger beasts were generally chained up - presumably to be given the run of the yard after dark to savage any neighbour unwise enough to pop in for a cup of tea - the smaller, yappier ones didn't do much for morale either.
As a result, we decided to embrace the now invariable fracturing of the group and allow those with more energy to forge ahead, leaving the rest to go at their own pace. This latter group was quickly dubbed the "Wasps" by its most enthusiastic member, McKeating, with the speedier contingent of Grennan, Smodge, Tim and McKinney emerging as the "Stingrays", thus fixing them with the stigma of association with Steve Irwin's death as well as allowing to Wasps to characterise themselves as the plucky underdogs rather than a bunch of lazy schismatics.
Both groups had a decent time of it in the afternoon session, however, as the gently rolling hills of north Cork soothed our spirits. The Wasps took lunch at Donoughmore Cross, a village consisting, in its entirety, of about 6 houses, two pubs sitting side by side, a Famine memorial and a ruined church. Meanwhile, the forward group were discovering Cork's very own Twilight Zone, the eerie village of Bweeng. Apart from one house, a barn and an abandoned pub, the entire village was brand new and made to the same suburban housing estate pattern, as if it had been picked up whole from Cork city and dropped in the middle of the countryside. In the pub, into which Grennan ventured for water, we found the entire population of the townland crammed in watching Cork v Kerry in, like, Gaelic Football or some shit?
Cork's eventual victory ensured a warm reception for the Wasps in LJs of Dromoughane, where they stopped for a greasy take-away prior to the final slog into Mallow. Donations, advice and offers of pear cider flowed in from the locals; morale soared.
Surely the best part of the day, though, was the herds of cows that would occasionally gallop the length of their field alongside us in expectation of food, milking or whatever it is that farmers do with them. As Grennan put it, "A guy with a sign made of fireworks saying 'Come on lads!' couldn't be more motivational than that." All agreed, and reflective silence followed until Tim's contribution of "Does anyone else think cows have really beautiful faces?" was registered. Answer came there none.
We got to Mallow, camped in a park, all was well.
Distance Day 3: 44km approx
Theme of the Day: Motivational/demotivational animals
Word of the Day: "Break?"
Day 2: Bantry to Macroom
The Mission hobbled into Macroom, Co. Cork well after dark last night. The reasons behind this will become clear when McKinney manages to get himself to a computer to edit this post but, briefly, the reasons behind this disaster include map malfunctions, mountains, baggage and injury.
15 hours spent on the road yesterday sent spirits in the camp straight to rock bottom but the incredibly generous Evelyn Casey and the good people at Coolcower House looked after them amazingly well. A big thank you to Caroline O'Leary for setting it up.
Needless to say, the trip can only get better from here!
Distance Day 2: 55km very approx
Theme of the Day: Despair
Word of the Day: "Steep"
15 hours spent on the road yesterday sent spirits in the camp straight to rock bottom but the incredibly generous Evelyn Casey and the good people at Coolcower House looked after them amazingly well. A big thank you to Caroline O'Leary for setting it up.
Needless to say, the trip can only get better from here!
Distance Day 2: 55km very approx
Theme of the Day: Despair
Word of the Day: "Steep"
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Day 1: Mizen Head to Bantry
The day began at Mizen Head at 7.30am following an early trip from Bantry. Trish and Tim again went above and beyond the call of duty in generously providing lifts. Ed joined the group for a one-day-only appearance in place of Dave McKeating, who will join in Bantry having angered his physio beyond belief with his decision to walk 500km or so on torn ligaments.
Aoife prepared for the day's adventures by doing some serious stretching before everyone got going at half eight - obviously to avoid going the way of McKeating. The morning weather in the furthest depths of Ireland was very pleasant as bunny rabbits and butterflies accompanied us along different parts of the walk.
The girls set the pace for the first 10k to Goleen, a village which has 4 pubs, 4 shops and a petrol station to its name. "Goleen", to the tune of Dolly Parton's "Joleen", naturally rebounded around our collective skull for half the day, proving irritatingly difficult to dislodge.
Trust was placed in local holiday home owner (and general miscreant) Fitzy whose shortcut immediately led everyone astray. Nonetheless, only 10 minutes was lost and we were soon on our way again. A second Fitzy shortcut soon after was far more successful, leading us up a quiet road past the scene of the famous Sophie Toscan du Platier murder (http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/europe/article4312889.ece - for those of you who don't remember it). Only two cars passed in that period and we made good time over to Dunamanagh Bay. Laura was already blistering badly, as were several others, but luckily Grennan (having enjoyed his light coleslaw) whipped out some plasters and sorted out the first injuries of the Mission.
The locals were very friendly, and always intruiged when informed of the Mission's aims, with the encouragement of a gentleman in Durrus ("Ah, that's the style!") just shading it for the group's favourite reaction.
The last 10k from Durrus to Bantry was very rough indeed, more trudge than stride as we finally approached a town of note (the 3,309 population of Bantry is a far cry from that of Durrus with a meagre 859). With heavier traffic, a system for car avoidance was duly worked out, mainly involving judicious crab walking and faith in drivers to swerve at the appropriate moment.
Arriving at around 7.30pm, we had a quick photo op with the mayor of Bantry before plodding off to dinner and bed.
Distance Day 1: 45km approx
Theme of the Day: Blisters
Word of the Day: "Lads"
http://www.mycharity.ie/event/mizenmalinmission
Aoife prepared for the day's adventures by doing some serious stretching before everyone got going at half eight - obviously to avoid going the way of McKeating. The morning weather in the furthest depths of Ireland was very pleasant as bunny rabbits and butterflies accompanied us along different parts of the walk.
The girls set the pace for the first 10k to Goleen, a village which has 4 pubs, 4 shops and a petrol station to its name. "Goleen", to the tune of Dolly Parton's "Joleen", naturally rebounded around our collective skull for half the day, proving irritatingly difficult to dislodge.
Trust was placed in local holiday home owner (and general miscreant) Fitzy whose shortcut immediately led everyone astray. Nonetheless, only 10 minutes was lost and we were soon on our way again. A second Fitzy shortcut soon after was far more successful, leading us up a quiet road past the scene of the famous Sophie Toscan du Platier murder (http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/europe/article4312889.ece - for those of you who don't remember it). Only two cars passed in that period and we made good time over to Dunamanagh Bay. Laura was already blistering badly, as were several others, but luckily Grennan (having enjoyed his light coleslaw) whipped out some plasters and sorted out the first injuries of the Mission.
The locals were very friendly, and always intruiged when informed of the Mission's aims, with the encouragement of a gentleman in Durrus ("Ah, that's the style!") just shading it for the group's favourite reaction.
The last 10k from Durrus to Bantry was very rough indeed, more trudge than stride as we finally approached a town of note (the 3,309 population of Bantry is a far cry from that of Durrus with a meagre 859). With heavier traffic, a system for car avoidance was duly worked out, mainly involving judicious crab walking and faith in drivers to swerve at the appropriate moment.
Arriving at around 7.30pm, we had a quick photo op with the mayor of Bantry before plodding off to dinner and bed.
Distance Day 1: 45km approx
Theme of the Day: Blisters
Word of the Day: "Lads"
http://www.mycharity.ie/event/mizenmalinmission
Predeparture Day: The Calm Before The Storm
Ten university students and not one of them realised until the night before the big kickoff that a lack of internet access meant that they wouldn't be able to update this blog regularly during their 570 kilometre trek. So, the task has fallen to me (Cillian Forde) to update you all on the trials and tribulations of the Mizen-Malin Mission through regular text updates from the Bearded One.
The lads and ladies left Dublin on Wednesday morning and travelled from Dublin to Bantry by bus and car. The lovely weather added to the air of excitement on the journey down, or so I'm told, however, there is a general concern at the speed of traffic on country roads; extreme caution and crabwalking is being considered. A big thank you from the group to Barry Kelly and his girlfriend Trish for giving them a lift down and to Ed Wrynn and Tim Arnold and their families for putting them up for the night in style. That's the last of the home comforts they're going to have for the next 2 weeks!
Last minute training took place in a pub in West Cork where the Lions victory was undoubtedly celebrated with restraint. The Lions victory was supplemented by a stranger in SuperValu who donated €20 to the cause, so victory all around this evening.
Updates on the Team
Fitzo - continues to make less sense than the Times cryptic crossword in all utterances.
Barry - leading fearlessly, as ever, but meetings are handicapped by general short attention spans.
Motherway - bigging up suncream and all other items protective in nature while generally being mothering.
McKeating - Paddy Wallace references were conspicuously absent today as, between a trip to Spain to top up the tan and a trip to the physio to further hone his sculpted body, McKeating couldn't join the rest of the group. He begins his trip south tomorrow and will meet up with the rest of the group on Day 2. Perhaps.
Packing Awards
Biggest bag - Kaner
Smallest Bag - McKinney
Irrelevant Packing - Smodge with 8 cans of tuna and a 1,000 page book but no rain jacket.
Theme of the Day: Crab People
Word of the Day: "Manlihood - coined by Grennan, but was quickly undermined in his case by the purchase of light coleslaw for Day 1 supplies."
A reminder to all to donate to the group @ http://www.mycharity.ie/event/mizenmalinmission
The lads and ladies left Dublin on Wednesday morning and travelled from Dublin to Bantry by bus and car. The lovely weather added to the air of excitement on the journey down, or so I'm told, however, there is a general concern at the speed of traffic on country roads; extreme caution and crabwalking is being considered. A big thank you from the group to Barry Kelly and his girlfriend Trish for giving them a lift down and to Ed Wrynn and Tim Arnold and their families for putting them up for the night in style. That's the last of the home comforts they're going to have for the next 2 weeks!
Last minute training took place in a pub in West Cork where the Lions victory was undoubtedly celebrated with restraint. The Lions victory was supplemented by a stranger in SuperValu who donated €20 to the cause, so victory all around this evening.
Updates on the Team
Fitzo - continues to make less sense than the Times cryptic crossword in all utterances.
Barry - leading fearlessly, as ever, but meetings are handicapped by general short attention spans.
Motherway - bigging up suncream and all other items protective in nature while generally being mothering.
McKeating - Paddy Wallace references were conspicuously absent today as, between a trip to Spain to top up the tan and a trip to the physio to further hone his sculpted body, McKeating couldn't join the rest of the group. He begins his trip south tomorrow and will meet up with the rest of the group on Day 2. Perhaps.
Packing Awards
Biggest bag - Kaner
Smallest Bag - McKinney
Irrelevant Packing - Smodge with 8 cans of tuna and a 1,000 page book but no rain jacket.
Theme of the Day: Crab People
Word of the Day: "Manlihood - coined by Grennan, but was quickly undermined in his case by the purchase of light coleslaw for Day 1 supplies."
A reminder to all to donate to the group @ http://www.mycharity.ie/event/mizenmalinmission
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
The Team
DEVANE, Aoife: The newest member of the crew. An all-round catch. The boys in Meenacrumlin won't know what hit 'em.
FITZGERALD, Gavin: "We'll be grand lads, it's only walking."
FLINN, Barry: Enthusiast of the finger-toothbrush. Hygiene issues likely to dominate.
GRENNAN, Mark: Unbelievable at really hard sums. Best serve-and-volleyer of the group.
HODGINS, Sam: Unlikely to pack long pants. Likely to find a really big stick along the way.
HURLEY, Tim: Expected to eat no more than 8 times on the trip. Mostly M&Ms.
KANE, Gavin: The hottest guy in BESS and co-ordinator of training and safety.
MCKEATING, David: Prone to apparating against his will; splinching could prove troublesome.
MCKINNEY, CONOR: Two weeks of uninterrupted beard growth will have the girls in Meenacrumlin as feverish as the boys.
MOTHERWAY, Laura: Aka the Motorway. The original mother figure of the group. Has better handwriting than Tim.
FITZGERALD, Gavin: "We'll be grand lads, it's only walking."
FLINN, Barry: Enthusiast of the finger-toothbrush. Hygiene issues likely to dominate.
GRENNAN, Mark: Unbelievable at really hard sums. Best serve-and-volleyer of the group.
HODGINS, Sam: Unlikely to pack long pants. Likely to find a really big stick along the way.
HURLEY, Tim: Expected to eat no more than 8 times on the trip. Mostly M&Ms.
KANE, Gavin: The hottest guy in BESS and co-ordinator of training and safety.
MCKEATING, David: Prone to apparating against his will; splinching could prove troublesome.
MCKINNEY, CONOR: Two weeks of uninterrupted beard growth will have the girls in Meenacrumlin as feverish as the boys.
MOTHERWAY, Laura: Aka the Motorway. The original mother figure of the group. Has better handwriting than Tim.
The Route
The walk will take us over 570 kilometres, through 3 provinces and 9 counties. It's subject to a bit of tweaking, but this gives you a rough idea. If you know of anyone in any of these towns who might let us pitch a tent outside their house, let us know!
June 11th: Mizen Head to Bantry.
June 12th: Bantry to Macroom.
June 13th: Macroom to Mallow.
June 14th: Mallow to Croom.
June 15th: Croom to Kilkishen.
June 16th: Kilkishen to Ardrahan.
June 17th: Ardrahan to Galway City.
June 18th: Galway City to Castletown.
June 19th: Castletown to Knock.
June 20th: Knock to Tobercurry.
June 21st: Tobercurry to Strandhill.
June 22nd: Strandhill to Bundoran.
June 23rd: Bundoran to Meenacrumlin.
June 24th: Meenacrumlin to Derry.
June 25th: Derry to Malin.
Juhne 26th: Malin to Malin Head (Banba's Crown).
June 11th: Mizen Head to Bantry.
June 12th: Bantry to Macroom.
June 13th: Macroom to Mallow.
June 14th: Mallow to Croom.
June 15th: Croom to Kilkishen.
June 16th: Kilkishen to Ardrahan.
June 17th: Ardrahan to Galway City.
June 18th: Galway City to Castletown.
June 19th: Castletown to Knock.
June 20th: Knock to Tobercurry.
June 21st: Tobercurry to Strandhill.
June 22nd: Strandhill to Bundoran.
June 23rd: Bundoran to Meenacrumlin.
June 24th: Meenacrumlin to Derry.
June 25th: Derry to Malin.
Juhne 26th: Malin to Malin Head (Banba's Crown).
Welcome to the blog of the Mizen Malin Mission!
Howdy. If you've made it this far you probably know the score already, but in case you're still wondering just what is this Mizen Malin Mission that everyone's talking about, here's the lowdown:
The mission is to walk the length of the country in just over two weeks. The aim is to raise money for the Cystic Fibrosis Association of Ireland. There are ten of us. Some are in college, some have just graduated and so are likely to be spending even more time watching daytime television and wishing that George Lee would hurry up and fix the Current Economic Climate. Despite these woes, we are a pretty fortunate bunch of well-heeled southsiders and have never had to face the type of challenge that sufferers of Cystic Fibrosis and their families undergo.
That being so, we thought we might try to raise a few quid for this worthy cause (ten grand would be nice, but it's just an aspirational target). As it transpired, the only skill we collectively possessed that might help in this regard was the ability to walk. Despite this, we've managed to haul together around 6,700 euro as of this evening, every penny of which will be going to the charity.
All we have to do now is walk. We start on Thursday 11th June, and last-minute preparations are being fervently made as I write. We leave for Bantry in the morning, stay overnight and head down to begin the walk on Thursday morning, strolling from Mizen Head back up to Bantry. This blog aims at keeping you posted as to our progress. The burning issue for Day 1 is expected to be, well, burning, as the forecast is for a scorcher.
The mission is to walk the length of the country in just over two weeks. The aim is to raise money for the Cystic Fibrosis Association of Ireland. There are ten of us. Some are in college, some have just graduated and so are likely to be spending even more time watching daytime television and wishing that George Lee would hurry up and fix the Current Economic Climate. Despite these woes, we are a pretty fortunate bunch of well-heeled southsiders and have never had to face the type of challenge that sufferers of Cystic Fibrosis and their families undergo.
That being so, we thought we might try to raise a few quid for this worthy cause (ten grand would be nice, but it's just an aspirational target). As it transpired, the only skill we collectively possessed that might help in this regard was the ability to walk. Despite this, we've managed to haul together around 6,700 euro as of this evening, every penny of which will be going to the charity.
All we have to do now is walk. We start on Thursday 11th June, and last-minute preparations are being fervently made as I write. We leave for Bantry in the morning, stay overnight and head down to begin the walk on Thursday morning, strolling from Mizen Head back up to Bantry. This blog aims at keeping you posted as to our progress. The burning issue for Day 1 is expected to be, well, burning, as the forecast is for a scorcher.
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