Given its generally mild and wet climate Ireland isn’t exactly renowned as a winter mountaineering venue, and you might expect that to be especially true of Kerry, with its Gulf Stream bathed shores and occasional palm trees. Not always, however. I was lucky enough for my first ever day on Kerry hills to be a traverse of the Reeks in superb winter conditions, back in 1990. Once above 600 metres the snow cover was continuous and the section of ridge over Lackagarrin/The Big Gun looked really Alpine and quite intimidating, especially with mist drifting about. At this point I regretted not having an ice axe – I hadn’t thought I would need one in legendarily green Ireland! Things turned out to be more exposed than difficult though, with big spiky rock holds sticking out conveniently all over the place, excellent fun.
Eastern Reeks from Beenkeragh
The other scrambling section, between Carrauntoohil and Beenkeragh, was perhaps slightly harder technically, a cracked slab poised on the absolute crest being particularly memorable. Difficulties eased quickly though and soon afterwards I was dropping into Hag’s Glen after seven hours of perfect ridge clambering. It was December so by then it was getting dark, and I wasn’t really looking forward to a long slog back along the minor roads. I hadn’t seen anyone on the hill all day, but a few hundred yards after reaching the main track and still a fair way from the road a Land Rover pulled up and Con Moriarty and his pal gave me a lift all the way to a Killarney pub! They had been taking advantage of the conditions to do a winter ascent of Howling Ridge on Carrauntoohil and had been surprised to find my tracks on thek top. I couldn’t have had a better introduction to the place, my only regret being that I had no photos because my camera had packed up after a drenching day on Letterbreckaun in the Maum Turks a few days earlier.
The Reeks from Dromderalough
I have a sneaking suspicion that these conditions happen more often than the popular wisdom has it because I’ve since had three other similarly snowy days on the Reeks, as well as one on Mangerton. Or perhaps I’m just lucky? One April I had to drop two clients in the Black Valley in the morning and pick them up in Kenmare in the late afternoon. This gave me enough time for a horseshoe of the easternmost Reeks, starting up over Drishana and Cnoc na dTarbh and descending the Feabrahy ridge. This takes in the most spectacular part of the main ridge, the first three of the 3000 footers. The ridge was well snowed up, with mostly softer snow than on my previous trip and quite substantial cornices so care was definitely needed. I had brought an ice axe this time, and was glad I had.
Devil's Punch Bowl, Mangerton
A few years later I actually needed crampons too, on a January trip during a long cold snap. I was trying to get away from the icy wastes of Derbyshire, where my cottage had been above the snowline for a fortnight but it turned out that things weren’t all that different in Ireland. The evening I arrived I could only get as far west as Nenagh, where I had to take refuge in a B&B for the night and follow the snowplough through in the morning. I put up a tent in snowy woods near Torc Waterfall, where I was accosted by a local with the line “I’m a psychiatrist and I insist that you make an appointment immediately”. It was minus 9 that night so he might have had a point! The next morning I headed up past the waterfall and up onto Mangerton. There were ice floes on the lough at the Devil’s Punch Bowl and sizeable icefalls on the face dropping into the Horses Glen. The steepening at the top of the north ridge was quite icy and the drop on the left to Lough Erhogh definitely concentrated the mind. Back home I’d debated whether to pack the crampons, now I was very glad I’d put them in.
Cnoc na Toinne, eastern Reeks
The crampons got some use the next day too as I headed round to the north side of the Reeks. The road up to Cronin’s Yard was snow free, being nearer the sea I suppose, but the snow line wasn’t far above and a day of melt and another night of freeze had made things nice and crisp. By the time I was heading up steeper ground onto the ridge of The Bone having spiky things on my feet was beginning to seem like a good idea. The Bone is just a walk in summer but it gets quite narrow higher up and in the conditions felt like proper mountaineering, especially where it steepens as you approach the summit of Maolan Bui. I turned left at the top to follow the best bit of the ridge over the scrambly summits to Cruach Mhor. Snow conditions were absolutely perfect, and having all the kit this time I enjoyed playing around on the steeper bits and climbing minor pinnacles. Sadly the cloud had rolled in by now so photographs were disappointing - white snow, white mist, no contrast. Great fun though. The snow stayed good so I briefly considered trying to glissade down the NW flank of Cruach Mhor but there were far too many rocks poking through and arriving back in one piece seemed preferable.
Leaving Caher, Carrauntoohil on left
When I’m not with clients I usually walk on my own for contrast, but I had company for my other snowy day on the Reeks, fellow walking guide David Roberts. We did the Coumloughra horseshoe, surely Ireland’s finest hill day as it links the three highest summits in the country along some dramatically sharp ridges. We did it anticlockwise, which gives you a bit of a slog up onto Caher, but after that it’s all enjoyment. The snowline was higher than on the previous trips but from Caher to Beenkeragh there was still enough coverage to make it feel like winter. Unlike the previous trips it also stayed sunny all day which was a definite bonus. We even met people (admittedly only two of them). They took a summit photo of us on Carrauntoohil which makes it obvious which one of us used to be the rock star (hint – it isn’t me, which is why the photo isn’t going to be reproduced here!). Ice axes were handy on the descent to the start of the Beenkeragh ridge, but after that they just got in the way as the jagged spikiness of the ridge meant there were rock holds everywhere. The gradually descending series of summits over Skregmore were snow free but made a lovely wind down before the steeper descent to little Lough Eighter and a cracking view back up the coum. I felt I’d deserved my Guinness that night.
Carrauntoohil from Caher
A few common sense things are worth bearing in mind if you’re going out on snowy hills. Winter conditions are obviously much more serious than summer ones. You need warmer clothes (including gloves and a hat), you move more slowly and have less daylight, winds are often stronger and you need to eat more food to keep warm. This last caught me out the first time I did a big walk in winter conditions and three of us were reduced to sharing a small corner of the last remaining sandwich with 5 miles still to go 🥴. If you are dealing with steeper ground an ice axe can be essential and if you don’t have (or can borrow) one then keep to the gentler slopes. Even if the snow is soft you can slide a long way, and new snow on wet grass is a notorious hazard. The scrambler’s golden rule of “don’t go up what you can’t come down” applies to winter hillwalkers too. That said, the added excitement and the sheer pristine grandeur of the winter hills make trips into them unforgettable. The air is often clearer and the views can be stunning. If Ireland’s fickle climate brings the right conditions then grab your chance, you won’t regret it.
A version of this article was first published in Mountainviews Quarterly May 2019
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