Rosskerrig Mountain

The calm after, or possibly in between, the storm. It's been wild - gales, heavy rain, the odd bombardment of hail. Things eased at about 3pm and I ventured out to get the paper. The road to civilisation was blocked. An enormous tree, one of Graham N's mighty copper beeches had fallen, fortunately missing his house, but plunging through a section of wall and onto the road. The County Council lads had sprung into action and there was a flurry of activity and a lot of machines. I was allowed through.

The sea was wild, the car was sprayed, and the pony got two apples.

This was the view from the bottom of the garden not long ago. The mountain is called Rosskerrig - Ros na gCaorach - wooded promontory of the sheep. It's quite modest in size but deceptive - that would be a good hour and a half/two hour climb to the summit. Worth all the clambering and boggy bits, for once at the top you can see across Bantry Bay to the north and down Dunmanus Bay to the south. You might encounter the resident shaggy, and smelly, wild goats, see red legged choughs, and a glimpse tiny red carnivorous sundews fringing the bogs. Should you be feeling very bold you can walk all along the ridge down to the next village, a good three hours. We've done this many times- usually quite an adventure. Once it was so windy Himself lost his glasses and I was nearly airborne. Another time the fog descended behind, then in front of us and then it started to pour. I have never been so wet in my life.