Slieve Carr: Hiking and Photography in Ballycroy National Park 📷
“The mountains are calling and I must go.”
John Muir
I found myself in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic last August looking for something a little different to do. With travel restricted to within county borders, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to venture into the wilderness of Ballycroy National Park and climb Slieve Carr, often described as the most remote place in Ireland. Located in north Mayo, in the Nephin Beg and Owenduff region of Erris, Ballycroy National Park is home to one of the largest expanses of blanket bog in Europe, covering some 120 square kilometres. It is a unique and untamed landscape, rich in wildlife and home to a remarkable variety of flora and fauna. While researching the area before the trip, I came across an excerpt from The Way That I Went, the aptly titled memoir of botanist Robert Lloyd Praeger. In it, Praeger eloquently captured the character and spirit of this wild corner of Mayo. Reading his account, I couldn't help but wonder if it might be possible to experience some of that same sense of place and adventure that he felt when he travelled through the region almost a century ago.
" Indeed Nephin beg range of mountains is I think the very loneliest place in this country, for the hills themselves are encircled by this vast area of trackless bog … I confess I find such a place not lonely or depressing but inspiriting. You are thrown at the same time back upon yourself and forward against the mystery and majesty of nature.”
Robert Lloyd Praeger – The Way That I Went (1937).
OS map 23, route in and out from the Letterkeen trailhead (Start line number 7, summit number 5).
The Trip
My plan was straightforward enough: park at the trailhead in Letterkeen, near Srahmore, and follow the Western Way until I reached a point where I could break out of the Altnabrocky Forest and begin my ascent of Slieve Carr from the east. From there, I intended to follow a dry river gully up onto Carr's broad plateau, reaching it at around 500 metres above sea level. Once on top, I hoped to find a suitable spot near the summit cairn to pitch my tent, settle in for the evening, and enjoy some well-earned food. The plan was to spend the night on the mountain before breaking camp the following morning and descending via Corslieve towards the Scardaun Lakes. From there, I would turn west to join the historic Bangor Trail, which would eventually lead me back to Letterkeen. The first part of the route followed the Western Way through Coillte's Altnabrocky Forest, a vast plantation that seems to stretch endlessly across the landscape. For much of the walk, the dense trees concealed the scale of the surrounding wilderness. It was only after gaining height on the slopes of Slieve Carr that the full extent of the forest revealed itself, with countless lakes and dark pools scattered among the trees, creating a striking mosaic across the landscape below.
Alnabrocky forest.
The trail was in excellent condition, dry and easy to follow as it winds along the loggers' route towards the mountain. After covering about 10 kilometres and steadily climbing some 200 metres, I reach the first of the remote backcountry shelters, Altnabrocky Wilderness Hut 2, nestled in the wilderness.
Altnabrocky Hut number 2.
Several of these wilderness huts are scattered throughout the park, providing hikers with a welcome place to rest, seek shelter, or simply pause and take in their surroundings. Built from simple timber construction, each hut is equipped with benches and seating, offering a degree of comfort in an otherwise remote landscape. An interesting feature of these shelters is the logbook kept inside each one. Visitors are encouraged to record their hikes, camping trips, and observations, as well as share comments about their experience. Entering your details is more than just a tradition; the information and feedback collected help park managers monitor visitor use and improve the experience for future walkers. Leaving the Wilderness Hut behind, I continue my journey towards Slieve Carr. Before long, I come across a timber stile hidden among the trees. Climbing over it marks a transition from the shelter of the forest to the openness of the mountain landscape beyond. From here, the route contours around the left-hand side of a small hillock before gradually rising towards the mountain. As I follow the contours across the hillside, I am rewarded with my first clear view of Slieve Carr. It is an impressive sight, but one that quickly brings a dose of reality: despite the distance already covered, the true climb is only just beginning.
First glimpse of Scardaun lakes and lough Kilnabinnia. Glenamong in the background from the spur looking west.
Continuing along the spur, with Lough Kilnabinnia and a small unnamed lake marked as 389 on the OS map below to my left, I make my way towards Slieve Carr. The route follows a steep river gully that climbs steadily onto the mountain's broad upper plateau. By the time I reach it, most of the hard work is done, but there is still around 200 metres of ascent remaining before I can claim the summit.From here, the terrain becomes noticeably more demanding. The ground is often wet and boggy, slowing progress and requiring careful footing. Higher up, patches of loose rock and scree become more common, particularly as the summit approaches. The climb is gradual but relentless, and what had seemed like a nearby summit from below now feels much farther away.Step by step, however, the summit draws closer. Looking back, the views across the Nephin Beg Mountains begin to open up, while ahead the rounded top of Slieve Carr finally comes within reach. After a steady and rewarding ascent, I eventually arrive at one of the highest points in the area standing at 721 metres above sea level.
Slieve Carr, 721 Meters and Laghtdauhybaun
The Cairn on the rocky summit of Slieve Carr looking north.
Summit of Slieve Carr looking North.
“Geoffrey Keating in his Foras Feasa ar Éirinn (History of Ireland, ca. 1634) and also by Duald Mac Firbis in the Genealogies, Tribes and Cusoms of Hy-Fiachrach (1650) tells of the voyage to the continent of King Dathi of Connacht, the last pagan king of Ireland, in order to avenge the death of Niall of the Nine Hostages. He dies in AD 427 when struck by lightning on Sliabh Ealpa (taken to be the Alps). His army, led by his son Amalgaid, fights a number of battles to bring his body back to Ireland to be buried in the Releg of Cruachan. (Rathcroghan Co Roscommon). The places in Europe mentioned in this account were identified by Sir Samuel Ferguson, but Hubert Knox, (Ballinrobe Knoxes) author of the History of the County of Mayo, rightly doubts its historicity.
Instead he suggests that Sliabh Ealpa where Dathi died was not the Alps, but rather Slieve Alp near Ballycroy, and that the tale of the invasion of the Roman Empire was an inspired piece of fantasy concocted by somebody unaware of [or deliberately ignoring] the existence of Slieve Alp in Mayo. The association of Dathi with this part of Mayo may be confirmed by the presence of a cairn named Laghtdauhybaun on Slieve Carr and Lough Dahybaun near Bellacorick [Knox, 25-26].”
Paul Tempan Irish Mountain Placenames.
Slieve Alp in the foreground, looking west towards Ballycroy and hill 243 with Slievemore and Croaghaun in the right background.
Misty sunset from the summit looking through the clouds.
After reaching the summit, I take some time to enjoy the views and explore the area. Among the most unexpected sights are several lizards and frogs, making use of the mountain's network of pools and boggy ground. Despite the exposed nature of the summit, the combination of abundant water and peaty soils appears to create a habitat where they can flourish.
Viviparous or common lizard.
Common frog.
Early the next morning, I pack away my gear and begin the hike back. On the descent, I stop at Corslieve and take a moment to absorb the view. The scenery spread out before me is simply spectacular, and I find myself appreciating the wild beauty of this remote corner of Mayo more than ever.
Standing on Corslieve looking west. This vista from Nephin Beg on the left to Glenamong and the Corranabinnias in the middle and to Slievemore and Croughan on Achill Island on the right is a sight to behold. Looking over the Owenduff and Baunduff river valleys afford an awesome sight.
From Corslieve, I can see the two Scardaun Lakes spread out below me, with the Scardaun River winding its way west through the valley. As I stand there taking in the view, I know that this is the direction I'll be heading for the next part of my journey.The descent is steep and demands my full attention. The ground is wet underfoot, and the grass-covered slope offers little grip in places. I take my time, carefully picking my route down the mountainside and testing every step before committing my weight to it. Progress is slow, but there is no point rushing on terrain like this.Eventually, after a steady descent of almost 300 metres, I reach the Scardaun River. Standing beside the water, I take a moment to look back up at the slopes I have just come down. From below, they seem even steeper than they did from above, and I feel a quiet sense of satisfaction knowing that the most demanding part of the descent is now behind me.
Standing on the top of Corslieve looking south down on the Scardaun lakes with Nephin Beg behind
From here, I follow the river west, letting the sound of the flowing water guide me through the valley. As I round the end of a spur, I am met with an unexpected reward: a beautiful waterfall cascading down the mountainside. I stop for a few moments to admire it before continuing on. Beyond the falls, the landscape opens up, and for the first time I catch a clear view of the famous Bangor Trail. Stretching away through the Bawnduff River valley, the old route winds its way across the wilderness, disappearing into the distance. Seeing it laid out before me like that is a special moment and a reminder of the long history of travel through this remote and rugged landscape.
Waterfall on the Scardaun river with Glenamong in the background.
From here, I continue west along the Scardaun River until I finally meet up with the Bangor Trail. Looking ahead, I can already see that the recent spell of wet weather has left the ground in poor condition. The trail is waterlogged in places, and I suspect the going is going to be slow for the next few kilometres. Still, there is little to do but put my head down and keep moving, following the old route as it winds its way through the Bawnduff Valley.
Bangor Trail
The Bangor Trail follows an old drover path which may date from the Iron Age. There is along the route, evidence of previous human habitation, particularly from the mid-19th century just prior to the Irish Famine when population pressure in this area was intense. In the days (16th century until early 20th century) when English landlords owned vast estates across Ireland, fishing and hunting lodges abounded, especially beside the rivers and lakes, which were used seasonally for red deer and shooting expeditions and the leisure activities of the aristocracy. The landlords would have been responsible for the maintenance of sections of the trail which passed through their lands. The trail was the main route for people and livestock before roads were built in the area in the first half of the 19th century.
A final look back at Slieve Carr looking in the direction of the Bangor Erris.
The trail meanders onward and upward over the hills.
A house dwelling ruin sitting on the side of the the Bangor Trail.
Mountain Meitheal Shelter
Shelter built by Mountain Meitheal.
Leaving the wet and boggy ground behind, I am glad to find the trail gradually improving underfoot as it transitions onto a firmer, stony track. As I make my way along, I begin to notice the signs of recent trail work, with new stepping stones, boardwalks, and drainage features helping walkers negotiate the rough terrain while protecting the surrounding landscape.A little further on, I spot another shelter sitting just off the trail and decide to take a closer look. I soon discover that it is a Mountain Meitheal hut. Standing there, after two days spent crossing mountains, rivers, bogland, and some of the wildest country in Ireland, I cannot help but appreciate the work carried out by this remarkable organisation.Mountain Meitheal volunteers give their time freely to maintain trails, build boardwalks, repair shelters, and improve access in some of the most remote corners of the country. Much of their work goes unnoticed, yet it makes a huge difference to everyone who ventures into these mountains.As I continue on my way and the trail eventually leads me back towards civilisation, I reflect on the journey I have just completed. From the summit of Slieve Carr to the solitude of the Bangor Trail, the wilderness of Nephin has provided everything I could have hoped for: challenge, adventure, peace, and unforgettable scenery. It is a landscape that leaves a lasting impression, and one that I know I will return to again.
End of the adventure, at the Brogan Carroll Bothy Letterkeen.
Time for a rest, Feet up, you just can’t beat a good pair of well worn Army Magnum boots and pair of Army Gaiters to boot !