The path is made by walking

16 April, 2024 - Rob Tobin

https://www.strava.com/activities/11171827999

Seventeen days separate the end of the spring league from the start of the summer league. For much of the week after the battle of Annagh Hill, leading up to Dargle Four Peaks, I tell myself I won't see another fortnight-and-a-bit like this for a while, to rest and let entry deadlines slip past. The problem is I've heard too much about Dargle Four Peaks to simply let this event pass by. Early in the week I attempt to reconcile these two competing motives, toying with the idea of a leisurely spin on the bike around Saturday lunchtime, possibly timing my departure and pacing myself so that I would reach Boleyhorrigan around the same time the field is funnelling back to the finish line from each runner's own fourth peak, whichever one that might be. Once there I'll hear reports from the field, as runners compare the order in which they visited the checkpoints, their lines, distance tallies, detours, slips, trips and falls (hopefully none too hard). By Friday lunchtime I realise I've been feeding myself nonsense all week. If I'm going to be at Boleyhorrigan on Saturday afternoon then the dirt on my legs won't be chain oil. I'll have been dancing in Glensoulan's finest bogholes.

I declare my late interest in a couple of WhatsApp groups on Friday afternoon and the route-guessing games begin. I offer cryptic, oblique responses although I've nothing to hide. Not yet anyway. I study Strava Flybys from previous editions of this legendary race. No digging out required - I'd already been looking at overlaid routes for weeks, but I'd neglected to study them in any great detail until now. I lay out the Wicklow West map alongside, studying contours and pondering the potential influences of forecast high winds and recent rainfall. I map three potential routes, without deciding whether I'd prefer to run clockwise or anticlockwise on any of them. Six options to sleep on.

My game plan is decided in the final minutes before leaving home on Saturday morning, as the Military Road's call grows loud. I load up and head first to a Garda checkpoint at Killakee, then on to race reg and a mandatory kit check at Boleyhorrigan. With these checks out of the way it's time to talk route choices with other runners. A group of passing road cyclists ask about the event and in their innocence the question of distance comes up. I mention that I'm looking to get change out of 15k. Knowing Andy's intended route I drip feed clues about my own - that I don't expect to have much company out there and he might be the first one I meet, most likely running in opposite directions somewhere between Tonduff and Maulin. Andy correctly deduces that I'm heading to Tonduff first and we call my route what it is... a 'reverse Liam'. This designation is met with raised eyebrows. Neither of us is sure whether anyone has ever attempted such a thing before. The beauty of this course is that with just four checkpoints, it invites endless experimentation and depending on a plethora of factors, one's experiment could go either way on any given day.

Brian's race briefing is brief and seems to blend seamlessly into the countdown. Before I know it we're off. I'd stood back a bit for the race briefing and where the rest of the field is headed north into the forest, my own route starts on a westerly bearing, ducking back out onto the road. In these first seconds of the race I'm having to cross the M50 from the overtaking lane to the hard shoulder. The first leg of my circuit takes in a short section of road, a gentle climb along fire road and then onto the rolling open mountain terrain of The Sheepbanks. Once off the fire road my first summit, Tonduff, comes into view, and it's there for almost 4kms as I rise gently along the left bank of the young Avonmore. Looking ahead the only movement is of distant sika maintaining their distance. I glance over my shoulders every so often and know I'm alone, for now. I'd hoped the topography here would make my route more runnable than the initial steep climb to Djouce, but there are gullies aplenty and as I run on higher ground in between these my shins are lashed by heathers with each stride. It's a bit of a slog and the running becomes tiring, despite what is a modest effective gradient. Whenever my footing seems sure for a few strides I look over to the right, studying Djouce and the ridge leading to War Hill for signs of other runners. None were seen. War Hill diminishes between the sources of the Avonmore and the Dargle and into view comes the green and red of John Bell who is also eyeing up Tonduff first. He is flying along, having contoured beneath War Hill on the way to this lonely spot. For a couple of minutes our paths look set to converge, but he surges ahead on the right and between here and Tonduff he develops a lead of about 100 metres.

I reach the carved stones on Tonduff, calling my bib number to Brendan the all-weather marshall. I make a swift right turn into the peat hags and look ahead to Maulin, where the summit looks to be clear, for now. When deciding on my route my hope for this next section had been to harness the westerly wind. Putting the plan into action, the wind is there at my back but is of little benefit to me and when I meet Andy easing in the opposite direction it seems to be of little hindrance to him. John extends his lead. Enda rolls past on the left. I wonder whether he's going for his fourth summit as I head towards my second. Eddie follows maybe a minute later, charging uphill. The worst of the day's weather starts to come in as I close in on the cairn at Maulin. Despite an appearance of calm when I turned on Tonduff only minutes previous, it's being Maulin again. I'm not sure if I've ever been here in favourable conditions. It seems guaranteed I'll be met by high winds, rain, hail or sleet, maybe even all four, at any time of year. I loop the cairn and head back towards the Dargle's source, aiming to cross the river above the 450m contour so as to minimise my climb while also keeping my horseshoe to a minimum. I'm alone again. There isn't even a thirsty deer up this end of the valley. I let out the odd yelp as the heathers lash my shins again. Sure noone will hear me. My legs are cut to shreds. I descend to the Dargle and cross on stones, keeping my feet dry.

The climb to War Hill starts. It goes on. It seems endless. While hiking here I look back at Maulin against the backdrop of the Irish Sea and I see it has cleared again. Typical Maulin. I become conscious of race time, realising I still have two peaks left and if I'd just gone for my long spin I'd be in position now at Boleyhorrigan, soaking up second-hand post-race atmosphere. Despite the burning in my lungs and on my shins, I'm really glad I signed up. Head down. Back to work. I finally get above the heathers and run up through the lonely mire on War Hill's north face. I haven't been here before but the peaty ground, wide wandering gullies and hags as tall as houses feel familiar. I realise there are quite a few parallels with the Mire of Cleevaun here. As the gully levels out a familiar figure crosses my path, running from right to left. It's Andy, who is reaching his fourth peak as I go to my third. I cheer him on as he bears right and I go left for my last climb of the day, up to the trig pillar on Djouce. The westerly wind is finally of some benefit on the Djouce-War path. The path has been turned up a bit by earlier foot traffic but it's not going to stop me or slow me down. I have the wind in my sails running uphill and feel unstoppable. I reach the trig pillar, turn right and maintain this southwesterly direction until I'm rolling downhill towards Piper's Brook and into the woods. The fire road holds plenty of water but I've heard there's beer at the finish line. With short straights and frequent turns I wonder if I'm chasing anyone or if I'm being chased. My Dargle Four Peaks ends as it started, running in blissful solitude. The bunting comes into view. Solitude gives way to good company, a cold beer, brownies and thoroughly enjoyable post-race analysis.

Credit to Brian and volunteers for giving us this opportunity to paint new Flybys on a wonderfully bumpy canvas. Long may it continue!

Breathtaking D4P

15 April, 2024 - Maike Jürgens

The breathtaking IMRA race that is the Dargle 4 Peaks

and that is all my puns used up for the months.

Brian had done plenty of work in advertising the race (and the need to bring all the level C gear to the start which was a 25 min jog from the nearest carpark - note that if you had a full car you comfortably got parked at the start). I was lucky to get a lift with Alice and we had Kate and Grace in the car so never a dull moment.
Training had been going well but as luck would have it I felt pretty under the weather on Friday and was struggling through my shake out run. I was on the fence on whether to actually show up or not but with a chance of doing 3 LC races this year and running ‘not around Cruagh’ (misery of my own making) I rocked up. Gear check and sign in was smooth, then it was back to hiding in the car from the breathtaking gusts at the start and the sandstorm they were causing.
Closer to 11.40, plenty runners were congregating on the 100 m stretch between the start and the massive puddle on the track (or should I call it pond - breathtaking depths it had anyway). A few chit chat catch ups, then Brian called for the brief race briefing (all I recall is the shout out Tim for his 100th race). Then off we went into what seemed to be a breathtakingly mild morning through puddle one of about a hundred or so more, plenty splashing that should provide air conditioning (as in I was soaked from the hips down after about 2 min). Remarked to Alice about 5 min down the track I could feel the cold in my lungs and decided not to push myself.
We clambered up and over the stream. I decided that going through a barbed wire fence rather than over it was a good idea (what was I thinking) and looked up to face Djouce (the view took my breath away). A not so breathtaking climb (cause I wasn’t pushing it - haha) later I reached to top of Djouce, touched the big rock and went off towards war hill. It had been mentioned the ground was wet and soggy - it was maybe breathtakingly so. Like the childrens story book, it was a stumble-trip decent, then a boggy climb up war hill. The next decent was equally churned up. And suddenly the wind got quite cold. I was barely figuring out I needed gloves when the downpour started. My hands were so cold, it took a few minutes to get my jacket on. Then I got confused as to which top was Tonduff and briefly considered consulting the compass but thankfully the first few runners were coming off Tonduff marking the way. A lovely greeting in a now mist covered hill top and off I went over (this time genuinely following a bearing (and being followed by a fellow runner who enquired was the next hill Maulin - yes, no -the one we can see is Corrig, the one after is Maulin). More runners coming towards us and we were somewhat sheltered from the wind. Following a quick climb up Maulin, there were stunning (were they breathtaking?) views from the top of Maulin.
The cold caught up with me on this decent, my legs refused to run but after some sugar agreed that moving as acceptable. Back up the Wicklow Way towards the shoulder of Djouce I gave up on running accepting that I was maybe a bit more sick than I wanted to accept. Met a few walkers going towards the boardwalk between Djouce and Whitehill. Going over the hill, the race genuinely turned breathtaking. The wind was so strong it took my breath away and I really struggled to go down the hill towards the forest where the fireroad awaited (and the finish). After a bit of descending, I was sheltered from the wind and the ground was more runnable than expected. Stumbled to the forest entrance and down the fireroad to finish in just about 3 h 15 min. Worse than I hoped but my excuse is the cold.
Found that while we all had littered the hills with our foot steps, the lovely volunteers had delittered the forest around the start which deserved a big thank you and kudos.

Reflections on the route choice: 2 years ago, I went Djouce, Wicklow Way, Maulin, Tonduff, War Hill and down into a forest sort of West of the finish where the fireroad meets the road down the hill from the finish. The rationale at the time was to have the more runnable surface for fresh legs and when you’d be walking due to ground conditions later on in the route it wouldn’t matter whether legs were tired. And then had an usual route choice with a different entry back into the forest. It didn’t pay off - likely due to missing a firebreak on the day.
This year, i went Djouce, War Hill, Tonduff, Maulin so the wind would be behind me in the more exposed sections and as it was considered the safe route. It was 10 min faster but I was sick. I still think with a better route from War Hill to the finish the anti-clockwise route suits me better.
But thankfully, this race has a breathtaking number of route options depending on ground conditions, time of year, weather on the day and individual strength.
Thanks Brian and team for letting us have a great day out.

Fluffy Clouds and a Warm start

15 April, 2024 - Peter O'Farrell

The day started like all good horror movies, with good clean fun on a bright sunny morning. The U9 GAAaaaaaaaa stars of the future were happily giving it many socks and it was warm. And dry. And yes - sunny.
Home with the boy, he's happy, he scored a goal with his knee and they all count. Date day proper begins as Orla and I depart for our version of good clean mucky fun. Easy drive over the Sally Gap to the start, got nice parking on the grassy lay by around the corner that Graham and others used as part of their race route later in the day.
Around to that nervous happy excited buzz to the found before the start of an IMRA race with a complete absence of a mandatory route - just the 4 peaks - in any order. The wind was windy but the sun was still benignly shining over it all. Most folk are happy to give their chosen route out for consideration of the wisdom of the crowd. The consensus on the fastest route is pretty clear - Djouce War Hill Tonduff Maulin WW shoulder home. I had done this last year so decided to go the other way round this time with a drop to the finish after War Hill.
The race briefing seemed to morph into the start GO and off we went. Steady enough out the start path, steady enough up to Djouce and then I nearly wavered. The straight line to Maulin looked very attractive and I knew Andy was going that way so would have someone to follow/race. But no, I stuck with the plan. Easy street with no nav, just run the massive Wicklow Way path over to Maulin. I did this, cut the corner nicely, I was feeling groovy all the way to Maulin. Andy got there about 2 minutes ahead - maybe the straight line was better - maybe he was faster today. Still no need for either nav or jackets and soon I hoped to see runners coming towards me on the optimum route to guide me up to Tonduff - and so still no nav required. At this point I was in a warm fluffy cloud of clear warm visibility with not a trace of a need for map or compass and was loving it, John Bell appeared first on an adventurous line, quickly followed by a line of fast lads on the optimum line. But were they happy?
Then act 2 of the horror movie arrived in the form of a squally cold wet shower with hints of ice about the edges of the raindrops. I was wearing a race vest. I prefer a bumbag but with the level C kit I thought the vest would bounce about the place less. The big downside of the vest is I don't like the faff of taking it off to get anything out of it so when the rain started I just kept running and didn't put on the jacket. This turned out to be a mistake as I got pretty cold and wet, pretty quickly. Then I took my glasses off as they were also wet, the cloud came in and I couldn't see any runners coming off Tonduff. None of this had been in the plan at the start line :)
I kept running uphill, avoiding the temptation to either look at my map/compass or veer across to the pesky walkers, out right on some random line coming from God alone knows where. Finally got up the mighty marshall huddling on Tonduff and then in the mist stopped to take out the feckin map from my fancy pants and get the compass lined up for the right line towards the flat bog towards War Hill. Did all that, I was bleeding time like a walker and then finally got going - only to veer too far left, dragged that way by runners coming up from Maulin! Bah. Got going again, met Maike, Hi Maike and then somehow ended up slopping through the slop too far left again as Robbie Bryson effortlessy ran along nicer drier ground to to right - exactly where I told him I would be running before the race! By this stage I couldn't even see Andy, and I was wearing my glasses again!
Half way up War Hill I could see a second shower coming in and the fear of the returning cold gripped me and I finally took off the vest, battled with the jacket in the high wind and got going. Niamh O'Ceallaigh was heading off War Hill on a fine line and so I followed her and then tried to head straight over to the head of the return path as per the plan. This was all part of the original plan and I hadn't recced it. I can confirm it's slow and the head of the wee steep sided mini valley took a while to appear but the horror of the cold had abated and I happily skipped over to where I needed to go,having fun.
All in all, a great day and date day out and we were happy campers driving home. Orla had had a great close race (unknowingly) as herself and the other girl were 5 seconds apart after going two very different directions. Great day and thanks again to Brian and team for all the organising and thanks for the offer of the cold beer but the tepid coffee given by Fiona was the finest nectar.

Niall Corrigan

14 April, 2024

I like this race so much that every year I endeavour to make it harder and longer for myself. This is not a deliberate strategy but the consequence of a failure to learn and sheer bloody mindedness.
Sixty of us gathered together for the start, 4 months early, but in surprisingly nice weather, if a tad windy. Once again the talk in the paddock beforehand revolved around clockwise, anti-clockwise and something that sounded like a WWE move called the “reverse Liam”. I had decided on a figure of eight strategy this year.
Brian briefed us and sent us on our way with military promptness, bang on high noon. Up the track and out on to the open mountain. There seemed to be less variety of route choice this year from what I could see from my customary place at the back of the pack. Most folks were making a direct bee line for Djouce, seemingly taking advantage of the reduced vegetation at this early time in the year, this was a factor in my thinking anyway, one that would come back to bite.
I touched the trig pillar and headed towards War hill. This is where I deviated from my first years route choice. Suddenly there were fewer runners around me as the field divided into clockers and anti-clockers. Splitters! I kept a higher line across to the coffin stone, trying to avoid the worst of the slop on the flank of Djouce. Down into the col and up onto War hill. The going, soft to shoeless. At the War hill cairn I checked my compass to find the path down towards Tonduff as I have a habit of missing this. Here is where I deviated from my second year’s route.
On the trip across the bog towards Tonduff the rain arrived, blowing in on the strong South Westerly, making life a little less pleasant but not enough to necessitate taking the jacket out. Around here I started meeting the first of the anti brigade. On the summit of Tonduff the unfortunate marshal was taking what shelter he could behind a large boulder, a hard oul station, thanks for being out there. Off towards Maulin, the anti brigade in full strength now.
Decision time on the summit of Maulin. Stick with the plan or take the tourist route home (insert winking emoji). I stuck with the plan. Turn around and head back across open mountain, eschewing the relative ease of well worn trail and The Wicklow Way. I descended back into the col and started contouring above the Dargle back towards the source. I had been in this ground last year and had both forgotten how horrible it was but also convinced myself it couldn’t be as horrible because of the time of year. Granted, there was less grass and no bracken, but heather doesn’t care what time of year it is, it’s perennially horrible.
Despite this, the trip back was wonderful, contouring around War Hill, the entire place to myself (strange that), meeting deer and hare, grouse and snipe, beautiful vistas and solitude. Am I selling it? Thought not.
Eventually I made it around and down to the finish for and nice beer and some super brownie. Well worth the effort. The watch said 16.8km, a whole kilometre longer than ’23 and 1.5km longer than ’22. But I still haven’t set foot on the Wicklow Way. As I said, sheer bloody mindedness.
Thanks again to Brian and crew for a super day out.

Four Peaks, but endless options

14 April, 2024 - David Power

The Dargle Four Peaks race hosted by IMRA is one of the most fascinating diamonds in their collection of mountain jewels.
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If I told you we had a meeting, at work this week, to discuss this race, would that make me a professional runner? Seriously, a bunch of us gathered in a meeting room, which ironically for a nav race, I couldn’t locate in the building. Not a good start.
Young Ewoud from Flanders was the enthusiastic, if wet behind the ears in mountain running terms. He was keen to understand the route options, never having set foot off his bike when cycling around these hills. His compass, pants, whistle, etc were on order from the internet somewhere. They made it, even if the 360 degrees on the compass were still to get acquainted with his mind.
Anyway, the meeting went well. We flashed up the route map, along with the Strava Flyby from 2 years ago. A mix of IMRA runners and cyclists, including Wicklow Round sages, joined our meeting.
So off we set Saturday morning – carpooling our way down there, workmates now mountain mates. The chat was of routes and weather. The beauty of this race is the banter – before, during and after. You get miles of enjoyment out of it – or whatever the unit of pleasure is for describing running around a boggy mountain. On intrigue per kilometre, this race is hard to beat. There may be longer races, steeper races, more competitive races, but none have the magic of the Four Peaks. Every coloured line on that Strava Flyby is a story.
The start above Lough Tay was so scenic – cyclists, tourists and the odd hiker abound. To see sixty runners there was great. My Belgian friend was on the younger side. I had hoped all the serious (i.e. fast) runners would have headed south for the European XC Trials in the Ballyhouras, but damn I forgot that some lads had already qualified. So up pop Enda and Eddie, along with past winner Brian Furey and the unstoppable Gavin Byrne.
Off we pop, splashing through a nice shin deep puddle after 50 metres. Onto open mountain, we split into two lines, trudging up over the grassy clumps. I glance over my shoulder, not to see the other runners, but to try frame a picture of where the entry point for the forest is on our return. “Right of the two trees” I tell myself. Note, there are hundreds of green trees in that forest.
Imagine if the Grand National in Aintree was like this race. Rachel Blackmore might head off left around the track, Paul Townend might go straight through the middle and Jack Kennedy would head anti-clockwise on the normal route over the fences. Whoever jumps the 30 fences and gets back home wins. That was our race, except we’d only four peaks, but hundreds of jumps over heather, bracken, grass, rocks, streams, bog ponds, turf hags, etc.
Looking back the route heatmap, it’s fascinating to imagine “what if” – I went with the classic clockwise route – up Djouce, over to Warhill, down and around the source of the Dargle, up to meet the brave marshal on Tonduff South, then bog hopping over to Maulin, before hitting the Wicklow Way and charging into a headwind back home.
In between the weather went from sunny and windy, to ominous cloud, to haily rain for a bit, then back to blue skies, maxing out with gale force gusts at the lip of the saddle under Djouce (if you get me on that strange description). The wind was so strong it ripped my carefully pinned number #2952 from my singlet.
Remember those two trees I noted earlier, well I couldn’t exactly find them, so overshot the entry point but luckily spotted the path below. Gavin came charging from behind just as I hit the trail. Damn, rocket boosters on to try outsprint him the last kilometre down home through a sloppy trail. What fun, I held him off and made it to the finish barrier, bunting fluttering above us.
Where else will you finish a race and within 30 seconds the race director comes over and hands you a cold (Wicklow) beer? Happy days.
The chat after is great. Graham, John, Rob and others got brave and creative, opting for the path less trodden. There should be a Liam Vines prize for the shortest distance covered. I was 16.27km but some lads were 14k or 15k, with a lot less elevation gain. Enda stole the show, in a record time of just over 1h30m. A few people always go awol – I didn’t expect P**l M**** to, but there you go. Same with Daire my yellow t-shirted nemesis who was just ahead of me most of the way around, til we dipped in and out of the Dargle crossing. Apparently, he missed the Wicklow Way turnoff and took the long way around Ballinastoe.
As for my work mates – well, we’ll need a debrief meet during the week to unravel how it all worked out. My Belgian mate had a great time, enough time to take loads of photos. Gareth was in the anti-clockwise brigade and had a great time. We passed each other at exactly 1 hour in – a strange but nice occurrence, wondering who’d get back first.
Thanks to RD Brian, plus all the wonderful volunteers who made this race so memorable. A great tradition has been started, which I hope many more return to next year. Clockwise is boring, so I’ll have to try the Warhill to Maulin traverse. Who knows what other corners can be cut?

Ode to the Dargle*

13 April, 2024 - Alice Clancy

There once was a race round the Dargle,
Where the bogs they did shine and did sparkle,
Runners went left, they went right,
Twas an orienteer’s delight,
More so for the finish line gargle!


* sincere apologies to keeper of the Limericks, Brendan Lawlor for not observing the ancient custom of waiting for international limerick day to pass before releasing the race report limericks