CYHA News

A Load of Old Blarney

Last month's Newsletter was dominated by our May trip to Dorset, so I guess it's inevitable that our second May Bank Holiday trip to the north of Ireland will be the focus of this one. See more below, and please note that we have already lined up an Ireland slide show for August!

When I was packing for the Ireland trip there was rather more emphasis on woolly hats and waterproofs than sunblock and insect repellent - how wrong I was! Rain and high winds had been replaced by sunshine and stillness for pretty much the whole week we were there. According to the locals this was the best weather they'd seen in about a month and a half. Lucky us!

The trip started off in our usual chaotic fashion, but eventually we all managed to meet up at Stansted in time for our flight. On arriving in Belfast and picking up our cars, I wondered how much Ireland would have changed since our last trip to this area some 8 years previously. Would there be internet cafes instead of pokey little bars? Super highways instead of bumpy, potholed roads? Convenience stores that were actually convenient? I needn't have worried. Although there had obviously been a huge amount of investment in recent years there were still shabby shops with odd window displays, nicotine stained bars with dirty windows on every corner, and plenty of roads with grass growing up the middle. As we drove out through Londonderry into the Republic on a major 2 lane trunk road, there was a small herd of cows charging up the opposite carriageway. Nice to know some things never change.

Ali

Seven go Gardening at Jordans

Why get bored doing you're own garden when you have the thrills and excitement of a volunteers' weekend at Jordans hostel in the Chilterns? Machete-ing your way through the undergrowth is never such fun as when you can do it with a friend or six. Plentiful food, endless cups of tea and the thrill of felling huge saplings. Thanks go out for all those who volunteered - they started as innocent CYHA members and by the end of the weekend had evolved into mad axe men and expert turf-layers. Tom was threatening to bring a chainsaw next year!    Ali

Postcard from Woking

Dave J. continues to make a good recovery from his heart operation, currently staying with his parents in Woking. He sent us a postcard (12th June) showing 6 views of Woking…

Dear all, Thanks for all your postcards and get-well cards. I'm glad Ireland went well. Who said it was wet on the Emerald Isle!? This postcard shows the delights of Woking! The park reminds me of Central Park in NY (it serves as a double for that park in many films). The town centre picture shows part of the historic walled city, the mosque is the 4^th most important Islamic site in the world, where Mohammed had his 1^st curry. The other pictures show that the town has the sophistication of Barcelona, while being the Venice of the home counties, so I think it beats Donegal!!

I'm getting stronger by the day, and can now walk up to 2 miles, and today managed to push a supermarket trolley a bit. Days are quite exciting consisting of eating, sleeping, reading, and a short walk with the dog. My chest is not hurting so much, and the heart rhythm is slowly getting back to normal.

See you all soon; maybe July, certainly August, Dave.

Postcard from St.Kilda

Trudi is with a National Trust working party on St Kilda, the remotest part of the British Isles, 41 miles west of Benbecula in Scotland's Outer Hebrides. She sent this postcard:

I have to say this makes organising YHA trips seem like a trivial excursion! An exciting opportunity when you need a new challenge! - particularly bringing overloaded wheel barrows up cobbled streets when feeling exhausted and nauseous!! But it is so worth it!!

Trudi

Cycle ride to the Duck

Thanks to Jim for leading another enjoyable evening cycle ride, this time to the Duck at Newney Green.

Picnic in Hylands Park

14 of us gathered on a sunny evening for our picnic in the park. Everyone brought generous quantities of delicious food, making quite a feast. And there was even time for a game of rounders afterwards.

Slieve League

Allegedly the tallest seacliffs in Europe at a staggering 2000ft above the sea, this is a mountain cut in half by the ocean. The climb up gives staggering views of the Donegal coast and the mountain itself, including the notorious One Man's Pass. Here the precipitous path climbs up over a narrow blade of rock -2000ft to the sea on one side, at least 1000ft to the valley bottom on the other. Luckily there is a bypass for the less intrepid, but Colin & Robert took on the challenge! It was a hot day and the long walk down the valley to the village was rewarded by a drink (or two) in the local hostelry. Here Ian was chatted to by a pair of crusty old sea-dogs, trying to interest him in a trip out on their fishing boat. When he showed a spark of interest in seeing Donegal with these rustic tour guides, they promptly produced a glossy leaflet with their webpage and email details. How things move on!

Paradise in a Bog

Donegal is a large county. Much of the interior seems to be given up to peat cutting and the roads are long and undulating, preventing you from picking up any real speed. In the middle of this rather bleak landscape, you take a turn and wind up in a paradise of lush vegetation. This is Glenveagh.

The setting is a lough surrounded by hills, more reminiscent of Scotland than an otherwise boggy part of Ireland. The house itself is stone-built and turreted and not as old as it looks! It was an rather romantic American idea of what a country estate should look like. Owned by a series of American and Irish worthies, it was finally left to the nation by the last of them. This not only includes the house, visited by all the rich and famous of it's day, but the fabulous gardens. There are a series of wonderful themed gardens including Swiss, Italian and a beautiful walled garden. Inspite of tree ferns, exotic rhododendrons and huge statues from the Far East - the best bit was still the magnificent view over the lough from the hills above.

A Crinkle Too Far

Many of you will be aware of Fergus and his fascination with crinkle bagging, but for the uninitiated I will give a brief summary. A Crinkle bagger is a person who obsessively follows the very outermost edge of the coastline regardless of where the path actually runs; and if, accidentally of course, we should skip a bit of path, the dedicated crinkle bagger will retrace his steps to include it.

Fergus is the uncontested king of crinkle bagging, but Malin Head almost proved a crinkle too far.

The most northerly point of Ireland is high on the crinkle baggers checklist, but this is a treacherous crinkle! In the same way that Tantalus was condemned to stand in water which receded every time he tried to drink; once you get to the most northerly point of Malin Head there, just a couple of metres away on the other side of an impenetrable chasm, is an even more northerly bit. Obviously this was a creation of the devil to tempt hapless crinkle baggers to their certain doom. Only the best efforts of Trudi and Dave saved the day!

Cliffs, Beaches and Giants!

The walk of the Ireland trip had to be the portion of the Antrim coast between the Giants Causeway and Ballintoy. We'd started by parking in the extortionate car park at the Causeway and spent a couple of happy hours messing about amongst the basalt at this World Heritage site. Narrowly missing a huge coach party of schoolchildren, we continued along the path to the Giants Boot and the famous Organ pipes, then up along the clifftops. The cliffs are all high and amazingly sheer with almost corrugated appearance from the basalt columns. The walk is an amazing one with every bluff revealing an amazing new vista. Gulls wheeled about the cliff edge, protecting their nests, and far down on the beach below lay a dead whale.

Further along the coast we stopped at Dunseverik Castle. A ruin perched on the edge of a rocky peninsular surrounded on three sides by sea. From here the path went up, then started to descend through a dramatic rock arch to the village of Portbraddan. This is the home of the world's smallest church, a pretty blue and white building about the size of a shed.

The next part of the walk involved some exhausting boulder clambering followed by a walk in the sand along the whole length of the massive White Park Bay. From here on we were on the home straight. A few more nobbles and fascinating pointy stacks and we staggered into Ballintoy Harbour. But disaster struck! The tea shop ladies were shutting up shop just as we darkened their doorway. We must have looked a pathetic sight, at first they said "just a cup of tea then", then they weakened and said "well, we have got a couple of cakes left". The perfect end to a perfect walk.

Seals and Seagulls

Just a short ferry ride from the Antrim coast is the small L-shaped island of Raithlin. Some caught the ricketty bus, some hired bikes, but most of us visited the amazing RSPB reserve on the western side of the island. Sea stacks positively heaving with guillemots, puffins and fulmars. Walking back to the village we found that one of the hottest local issues was the lack of toilets at the bird sanctuary leading to "fouling" of the roadside (well it is a 4 mile walk). Down by the village bay there were seals basking in the seaweed and the remains of a kelp store, a throwback to the old island industry that used to supply glass manufacturers on the mainland.

Ali

I'm In CYHA Get Me Out Of Here

The local pub provided us with tasty Guinness and smooth Bushmills Irish Whiskey but also offered, or rather inflicted upon us, entertainment of a vaguely musical nature. Friday night seemed to be under 14's disco night, a bit like Dukes but without the lights. We took refuge in our little enclave defended by a balustrade and four Dutchmen who'd already had plenty of Dutch courage. Mercifully it was also out of the direct line of the speakers. We reinacted scenes from the film 'Cliff-hanger' every time someone got the next round in. Eventually the DJ played something more from our era but 'Living next door to Alice' was not a good idea in a pub full of inebriated people who knew the 'alternative' version.

Saturday was similar except that one man mimed with the aid of a guitar and the vocals were provided by the club singer from hell. He crooned his way through songs that George might just remember from his childhood before murdering some more modern melodies all at deafening volume. His assault on a Ronan Keating song may have been deserved but was the final straw for me. Those who bailed out early were then having bets as to who would be out next. George, Fergus and Robert eventually being declared 'Kings of the Jungle' presumably due to their enjoyment of the music or was it the Bushmills? Shortly after the torture ended when someone on Rathlin Island called the RSPCA.

Tom

For some more pictures of our Ireland trip, see:

• Dave's photos
• Gary's photos
• John's photos