10 Galty Checkpoints

15 June, 2025 - Alice Clancy

I enjoyed reading everyone’s race reports so much I wrote my own!
I can’t promise any great reward from reading this, other than it may help aid sleep for those insomniacs out there.

First and most important things first:
A HUGE thank you to Tricia and all of the Galty volunteers for giving up your Saturday and going over and above to give us such an enjoyable day out! The Galty Crossing is (to my mind anyway) the best race on the IMRA calendar. It has everything - every type of weather, terrain and peathag…It’s a really great way to challenge yourself and to spend time in a beautiful place. On Saturday it was seamlessly organised and everyone was so friendly and encouraging there was no way to back out!
Highly recommended for anyone who hasn't tried it yet!

10 Galty Checkpoints
There are 10 check points that you have to pass while traversing the Galtees for the IMRA race. What follows is a jumble of random thoughts of absolutely no significance from Saturday clustered around each of these checkpoints.

CP 1 Temple Hill.
From the bottom of Temple Hill, if you are lucky, you can catch sight of the leaders disappearing into the mists. Some people seem not to be bound by the same laws of physics as the rest of us….
Approximately halfway up, the mists will engulf you too, which comes as something of a relief as you can concentrate on the tufts of grass directly in front of you…and not on how they extend into a near vertical green wall that towers over you. It’s better that you can’t see it.
Head down and keep pushing.
Did you know that you use less energy by jogging up slowly on your toes rather than hands-on-knees-laboured-breathing-walking it? This was one of the very useful tips I gleaned on Tom’s excellent hill-training session a few weeks ago. Alas Tom I have to admit I did not run up this behemoth on Saturday. But one day. Maaaaybe.

When you get to the cairn atop Temple Hill, you have reached checkpoint 1….the point that you realise what you’ve actually gotten yourself into….this is the point at which you either surrender, laughing at yourself and the collective madness that is the Galty Crossing, or turn on your heel back to civilisation as Emily, Linda and I did in 2019, the first time I attempted the Crossing. In 2019, a Red Weather warning and a cancelled local Iron Man event seemed to only whet appetites for the crossing. Munster runners are clearly made of stronger stuff than the Ironmen. As we got to the top, with maps, jackets and some runners cartwheeling and careening by us in the epic spin cycle of the wind and rain, we turned to each other, unable to hear and barely able to see each other and the decision was unanimous!
On Saturday though it was wet, the spin cycle was fairly clement, and thinking about how the Galty Crossing was like other difficult but ‘rewarding’ things in that the only way out of it is through it, I gritted my teeth, and plunged down through the loose rock and mucky grass, seeking out a line to the elusive ‘Wall Start’.
Finding a line to wall start is one of the interesting choices on the route….
I wonder if there might be a sweet spot between taking a direct line, traversing the peat hag gully and not losing too much elevation? I haven’t quite cracked it yet. I think perhaps the most (in)famous line taken here was pre-tracker in 2019 that headed off on a completely different route (south?) altogether…apparently there was a few of them in it. (The stories from 2019 are very entertaining but that one takes the biscuit!).
On Saturday, this was the point I lost sight of most people. I had been trying (in vain) to keep speedy Sorcha somewhere in my field of vision. Alone, I settled into a contented jog, enjoying the solitude of the mist.

CP 2 Wall Start + CP3 Wall Corner.
Wall Start and Wall Corner do exactly what it says on the tin. Wall start is where a low wall starts, snaking along the ridge. Wall corner is where it turns at 90 degrees, towards Galty Mór. The wall is great as you can switch your brain off and stumble alongside it almost all the way to Big Galty itself….Who built that wall? Why? How? Did they know that years after they toiled in the mists that hoardes of scantily clad people would be using their handiwork simply as a navigational crutch?
Speaking of clothing, along the wall is where the effects of the invariably cold wind can be felt. This year I decided to not take both the kitchen and bathroom sinks so just the one (!) jacket had to suffice. Last year, with the effects of 2019 still lingering, I packed a full change of clothes, rain gear, a bivvy bag, a down jacket and eh…afternoon tea (see below) into a MASSIVE bag that swung from side to side as I tried to lug it up and down the Galtees. This year I took more of a Coco Chanel approach and minimised the accoutrements. It felt much easier. I’m learning….Slowly!

CP 4 Galty MÓR!
Eesh where to start with this one. The climb does not seem to end. It gets feckin cold up there. You may or may not get battered with hail as you near the top. Especially in mid-summer.

BUT…

The sheer joy of that grassy descent to little Galty saddle is worth all the heartache that came before it. Sublime.


CP 5 Galty Beg
Coke! Coke! Coke!!! An unusually luxurious aspect of the Crossing has to be a huge bottle of coke just sitting there on a rock on Little Galty waiting for you…I’m afraid I made a total hames of it in my enthusiasm to get at the coke, fizzing it, F1 champagne style all over the place. Sorry Martin. Thank you for lugging it up there in the first place. Once again, I set off into the mist, rain jacket now covered in coke, seeking a more direct line off Galty Beg. I didn’t take it, but I know there is one, that lines up quite nicely with a break in the godawful peat hag on the saddle below. Next time.

CP 6 Greenaun Cairn
At the next AGM, a motion should be made to replace Greenaun Cairn as CP 6 with what seems to be officially known as Dead Sheep Supermassive Bog Hole (I think that’s what it’s called on the East West Map anyway). DSSBH is eminently more locatable and memorable than Greenaun Cairn (see other race reports and listen to the chatter around the sandwiches in Cahir…everyone has a story about this one!).
This year I thought I had it beat by shimmying around the edge while hanging onto the peat hag at the right.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Even the edges of that thing are deep. Down I slithered, up to my left thigh, and started to take the peat hag I was clinging to down with me in slow motion… all with the comforting view of the sheep bones in front of me. Good times.
Sure what else would you rather be doing of a Saturday?

CP 7 Far Breaga
The False man was a great spot on Saturday. The mist cleared to reveal the glorious views off both sides of the ridge...after what felt like running complete solitude suddenly there were lots of people all around, all running various lines hell for leather along the wide ridge.
Tom was at the cairn cheering us on, shouting something about a defibrillator.

At this point I glanced at my watch and realised that I was having, what was for me the run of my life. I had managed to get to this point about an hour faster than last year. What??I thought my watch was wrong, or I had forgotten to sync it or something. I’ve never run like this before. I felt strong, and happy and well able for more…I was even looking forward (?) to the fire road. (Something was definitely seriously wrong there). I think I might be inadvertently doping: I confess that I tried gels for the first time late last year. The gateway drug was an innocuous-looking high 5 aqua, and I haven’t looked back. Up to that point I had been eating em….actual food while running. Last year on the crossing I brought an orange, a banana, fig rolls, and four scones filled with cream cheese. Yup. Seriously. I was worried I might get hangry. I ended up not being able to eat any of it and by Fear Breaga I was suffering badly.
This year, now a hardened gel aficionado, tailwind addled and supping the odd Maurten made for quite the different experience…no hunger, no sickness, but the ability to actually run, and to enjoy it. Like I say…I’m learning. Slowly. Maybe by the time I hit F80 I’ll have cracked this running lark.

So …I ran my way through the peat hag parcour between Fear Breaga and Lachtshanaquilla. This may be my favourite part of the route….and Saturday was the first time I ran that bit. Impossible to get a good line, and relentless, but so much fun with the ups and downs as you tumble and stumble up and around and over….with people popping up from behind peat hags and throwing themselves off them all over the place around you!

From Lachtshanaquilla, I do like that direct line to the forest corner (well spotted Brian!)- but can’t take credit for it - it’s a Maike special….I don’t know if it is faster, as I can’t ever quite bring myself to try the alternative…it’s just too much fun veering off the path to gallump over the heather and then try not to destroy your ankles before you reach the trail…I think the expert to consult on which route is best may be Joan who has run both…over to you Joan!

CP8 Slieve an Airde Fence
This checkpoint helpfully marks the spot where you realise that no amount of gels are going to help your legs get up that godawful fireroad hill. The less said about this place the better.

CP9 Bane - Last High point
At this point Jane is likely to have her camera out …capturing everyone emerging from the mountains before the suffering on the road begins in earnest. You might try a shuffle so that it looks like you are running in the photographs, but generally I try to just hide behind the person in front so that I can walk for as long as possible.

CP10 Hammerhead.
This is very close to CP9, just down the hill in fact! There’s a bit of a shortcut if you go diagonally along the hill rather than straight down to the trail. The use of gravity helps.

The bit between Hammerhead and the finish is supposed to be downhill, but I am not so sure….And it feels much longer than a few kilometres…..All I can say about this bit is just put your head down and keep moving your legs. Don’t stop or the pains will start.

What is wonderful is when you turn right towards the castle, and start to see IMRA volunteers along the route, cheering, and directing traffic. It was so lovely on Saturday - running towards that finish and the Munster van, knowing there will be great sandwiches, chats and the most welcome sight, Rowan with the scissors coming to take that darned tracker off.

Thank you Tricia and all, that was a lot of fun!
Well done to Dee, Becky and Sorcha and to Brian, Donatus and Sam!

A proper Galty day

10 June, 2025 - Deirdre O Gorman

The sound of my alarm at 6am on Saturday morning had me questioning all my life choices. Parking in Cahir and pulling myself and my gear out of the car had me questioning the wisdom of signing up for the Galty Crossing so soon after Beara. The few runs in the interim had been slow and a little achy but I reminded myself I was out for an easy, social day on the hills.

I met Elaine on the way down to registration and we signed in, got fitted with our trackers, showed all our kit and hopped on the waiting bus. We caught up on life during the spin out to Anglesborough and strongly considered staying on the bus and heading back to Cahir for a coffee…

Anyway, off the bus and after a quick race brief from Trich, off we went. Those of us at the front took off with a purpose- don’t get stuck at the bottle neck! The race starts outside the pub in the village and heads out the road for a few hundred metres before turning in to the woods. Usually everyone comes to a stop here as we take turns climbing the stile beside the gate. This can dump you fairly far down the pack if you get caught at the back- cue the sprint! Turned out the gate was open so we had all generated some nice lactic for no reason…Ah well, the heart rate isn't going to come back down now, might as well drive on..

Off up Paradise hill we headed before starting the real climb up Temple. As we hiked our way up, the odd comment of ‘Brian’s still running…’ could be heard. Brian Mullins was indeed still trotting off up in to the cloud while the rest of us struggled to keep moving forward. I wasn’t feeling as bad as I thought I would and the legs felt pretty strong. Cresting the summit allowed me to catch my breath before starting the steep, slippery descent. Sure enough, I’d only gone a few metres when both legs slipped out from under me and I landed on a nice, pointy rock. Lovely. I hopped up and made my way down towards the saddle, albeit with one numb ass cheek.

The low hanging cloud was really affecting visibility so a few people seemed to be taking different lines towards Lyracappul. Those of us in the know kept an eye on Rob Cunningham; he knows how to pick a line so was like a ‘trail Pied Piper’ with a small army behind him. Becky had passed me on Paradise Hill and I had thought that would have been the last I’d see of her but I could still make her out as we hit the wall and headed towards Galtymor. I always prefer to be the hunter rather than the hunted..! Oh yes, the ‘easy, social day’ was gone out the window, the competitive side was in full control.

As we neared Galtymor, a deluge of driving rain accompanied by freezing wind had me reaching for my jacket. We weren’t going to meet many hikers out today. Visibility was so bad, I was questioning my route down Galtymor, even though I should know it like the back of my hand! I finally hit the trail and was joined by Becky and Elia as we trudged up GaltyBeag. Martin was stationed at the top providing top-ups and advice… ‘Watch the nav from here lads…’ He’s right, from Greenane on, it all looks the same.

Our trio headed on, still being battered by the bitter wind and rain. Except for the bog and our own feet, we didn’t have much to look at so the chat started to flow whenever we could hear each other over the roaring wind. Turns out this chat haunted poor Kevin who was a few hundred metres ahead of us and had the misfortune of having (mostly my) ramblings being carried to him on the wind. So much for his few hours of peace in the hills!

We were making good progress, running when we could, trudging when we had to, until I heard a shout from Becky. Yep, she had found ‘THAT bog hole’. The famous one with at least one dead sheep firmly planted in it (although I think he has company, he can’t still smell that bad!). I had found that same hole on a solo recce in 2023 and had been so traumatised that I’ve managed to instinctively avoid it since! Becky was in up to her waist, with Elia on one side and me on the other, both with outstretched hands, trying to reach her. Elia has the longer arms so he managed to grab on and haul her out. Off we headed again, with Becky warned to stay downwind of us…

We met Tom at Farbreaga (another windy spot for marshalling!) and he pointed us down a trail off the cairn he was standing on. The rain had finally stopped and the sun was starting to warm my frozen hands. Becky and I lost Elia on the descent towards the rough fire road and we caught up to Kevin on our way towards Bane, the final climb. I had created the tiniest of gaps but was reminded by Ger, as I reached the summit, that there was ‘someone on your tail!’ I managed a smile at Jane’s camera before deciding it’s now or never; throw yourself down that descent, no time for thinking!

As I neared the Hammerhead, I turned my head to my right to make sure I wouldn’t miss the entrance to the woods. As I did so, the left ankle gave a violent roll outwards; I had rolled it plenty of times up to this point but this one hurt. Quick analysis; can I still run? Yep, right, drive on.

I pushed on down through the woods, puffing, panting, and regretting my strong aversion to speed work of any kind. My ears were tuned in to any sound of approaching footsteps as I expected Becky to come motoring passed at any second. At one junction, I was faced with a young boxer dog who eyed me playfully. I spotted his owner approaching from the opposite junction to where I was headed. She didn’t seem too concerned when he took off after me, bouncing alongside and nibbling my hands. Not being as considerate as Andy, I figured he could come to Cahir with me if he wanted and I’d spin him back to the woods afterwards :). Luckily he got bored of me and headed off to find some more new friends.

Once I hit the road in to town, my legs were really protesting. Both Achilles tendons, which had been cranky since Beara, were now in full meltdown and I must have looked fully insane as I used my arms to propel myself forwards. One man stopped cutting his hedge to turn and look at me quizzically.

Finally, the castle was in sight. Dodging a few cars, I crossed the road and spotted my parents standing just before the finish, having followed the trackers all morning. Trich was atop the wall, ringing a cow bell, drowning out the cheers of the volunteers. Phew! I could finally breathe. A hand shake from Brian and another from Becky, who came in shortly after. It’s so much fun to have races like that, where you’re pushed hard and have to dig deep, and there’s no shortage of women who can push you like that in IMRA.

Big thanks to Trich, Rob and all the volunteers on another super Crossing, roll on 2026!

Cork do the double

07 June, 2025 - Brian Mullins

Ok ok I’ll stop now but this report changed about ten times as my meanderings were being jotted down while watching the Munster Hurling Final on TV. I’ve been to enough of them in the flesh to know they are the best spectacle in the world of sport, right behind the Galty Crossing Race, which obviously takes first place.

I had entered this one a long way off but wasn’t sure I would even run it as I knew the legs would be like concrete after the Granite Peaks 50km two weeks previous and I didn’t fancy a death march. After a couple of steady loops of the Seefin World Trials course on Friday evening, before acting as pretend first aider/timekeeper with Martin on top of Seefin for the Uphill Trial, the legs felt surprisingly fresh. Or maybe I couldn’t feel them at all and it was all in my head!! After being thoroughly destroyed by a long heavy shower of hail about 15mins before the start of the uphill trial it was impressive to watch how deep some people can bury themselves in the world of hurt called all out max uphill effort where the lactic starts appearing out your mouth in the form of froth! The hail shower had really dipped the temperature and looking at the forecast for the following day I was debating about whether donning the St. Finbarrs singlet would be a wise decision.

Anyhow back to Cahir on Saturday morning and a full gathering of almost 100 brave souls made themselves available to have obligatory trackers from Primaltracking fixed to their person so the rabid dot watchers could set up a book on the Paddy Power App. My money was on Sam, yes he had 160k and 6000m in the legs from the Beara Way just a few weeks ago but he’s motoring at a completely differently level this year and these 30somethings can recover savage fast I hear! Donatas also had a strong cohort betting for him as he has form on the course. On the women’s side there was that dreaded prospect of joint favourite as Dee and Becky were impossible to separate in the odds.

It all made for an intriguing competition. The forecast was pretty much on point and on arrival in Anglesborough no sign of Templehill could be seen. That’s probably a good thing as it’s a proper stiff opener to the race.

Trish gave the countdown and once again as we set off I took a look at the Guinness sign on the bar, same as last year thinking it was Murphy’s, and could already taste the post race recovery fuel. It works, trust me.

I had signalled my intent before the start to anyone that would listen and said the only chance I had of repeating last years feat was to go out as hard as possible and try to hang on. There was no way I could hang with Donatas and Sam in the later stages of the race as these lads just get better the longer it gets and can seem to maintain the same pace forever!

I was happy when I heard the sound of feet disappearing behind me on the road section as I felt I wasn’t actually starting that fast so with that in mind I decided to really put the hammer down going up Temple. 36.30 to the top last year turned into 34.30 this year and it actually felt ok, honest! The descent down the back in the slippery conditions and fog was slower but I had learned my lesson last week at Donard when I put a reckless burst in on the descent to catch Sean Quirke and my leg landed in a hole up to beyond my knee and I was waiting for the snapping sound. Thankfully that didn’t happen but it reminded me to reign in my brain off brakes off descending as keeping that going would prematurely end my European tour of races.

By the time I crested Lyra I could no longer hear voices, at least not the ones outside my head, and that gave me an idea of the lead I had. I knew I had to keep pushing though as I expected the lads to come storming back in the second half of the course when my all out effort at the start began to take its toll. My fuelling strategy for a race as short as this one was as per usual, nothing but water with the odd dextrose tablet when the Dexcom sensor on my arm started sending alarming signals to the IPhone saying you are about to drop dead if you don’t raise your blood sugar. Luckily that sensor failed before I reached Galtymor so I didn’t have to be concerned about all this modern tech and just ran by feel. The human body really is remarkable with the way it can tell you all by itself when you are about to keel over!

Around about the time I crested Galtymor a really horrendous squall of cold heavy wind blown rain arrived and persisted until I was half way up Greenane. I was within about 2mins off putting on the jacket but decided against it as I had told myself, 15mins previously, it was only a 5min shower. That miscalculation had me borderline hypothermic running up Greenane but luckily it stopped just before I capitulated to adding layers! Before this though just as the really heavy rain started it was a real positive to see Martin on Galtybeg in such grim conditions with a kind word to send you on your way and again proof that all IMRA volunteers will be smiling no matter the situation or conditions. I didn’t know whether to believe him or not when he said I had 10mins on second as I thought it might be a bit of Limerick reverse psychology to allow another Limerick man Sam to regain some ground!!

Anyhow I managed to settle into a nice flow state all the way to just before Fearbrega when Tom Blackburn appeared out of the fog from behind a cairn and asked was ok and did I want anything. Just the finish I said but I knew it was still a long way off with the worst of the technical terrain to come. When I passed the Fearbrega cairn I could see Tom had a full aid set up, all of it brought up in the 5l pocket of his race belt! He also said I had a 10 minute lead but once again the mind games started and I refused to believe it as Tom is also a Limerick man and was conspiring to slow me down to aid is county man!

Running off the top of Fearbrega the skies cleared and the rest of the trip was a glorious vista of all of what the Galtys have to offer. I even managed to pick a better line to Bane this year as last year I was utterly delirious from being chased down by Nick and Peter and had lost almost 2minutes prancing around in heather when there was a brilliantly runnable firebreak about 10m to my left. Having looked at the various tracks on primal tracking there does seem to be a quicker line though and only one person has taken it the last two years, Alice knows something the rest of us don’t!

It was good to see Ger and Jane on top of Bane happily documenting all of us in our worst state and Ger said he couldn’t see anyone on the horizon behind me. Now Ger has a very honest face and it’s hard not to believe what he says, but alack he is also from Limerick so I couldn’t be sure! I hammered it down to the hammerhead and steeled myself for the part of the race that I absolutely love. NOT! About 4 miles of a combination of fireroad and tarmac, wonderful!

I said the only way this gets better is if I just go at it full tilt and it will be over quicker! It seemed logical at the time. Arriving into Cahir to a traffic jam, a ceile band, a farmers market and a brigade of Munster volunteers was a welcome sight. I am told I collapsed on the ground, apparently there are even photographs showing this distress that are banned from posting on social media (the podium ones with Cahir Castle in the background are so much better, even Trish said so!). Donatas and Sam weren’t too far behind and neither were Dee and Becky, who were also showing no signs of recent outings at Beara and European Masters respectively.

A Cork man winning the Galty crossing and Cork beating Limerick in the hurling is a good enough double for this weekend. I promised Trish I will be on top of Galtybeg next year as it’s time I got to witness the spectacle from the mountainside, though there will be plenty of that tomorrow at Seefin watching the fast lads and lassies show us all how it’s done.

The Galty Crossing, a race that should be on everyone’s must do list, but be warned if you are not prepared it will chew you up.

Well worth the trip

07 June, 2025 - Andy Keeling

Arrive in Cahir and find a convenient parking spot opposite Aldi. Quick trot down to registration, kit check, tracker collection and then back to the car to get ready. Last minute food supplies from Supervalu who are open very early and then onto the bus for chats with Brian on our short trip towards the start in Anglesborough. Off the bus and it's too late for a proper warm up so quick toilet break and then down to the start line. Quick race brief and we're off. There's a short bit of running before we're turned up the little laneway. Gradient increases, then increases again then levels out a bit, then we are soon looking at the long grassy hill ascending into the clouds towards temple hill. I'm trying out a new pair of shoes and just before the big grassy hill they slip and slide in the mud at the small shimmy to the left by the cattle gates. Which is actually flat ground. Not a great start. I know there's plenty more tractional challenges ahead.
On up into the clouds and I meet the actual sheep from the front of the galtee east west map. The very lad. He declines a selfie with me. Gets it all the time probably.
I continue on, spiralling leftwards and tip the top of temple hill. Then start the awkward descent off the other side. Not fast. With this type of descending I often think of when Mrs Doyle is trying to down off the window ledge. It's about as graceful as that. But soon the rocks give way to grass and running recommences. The next bit is kind of a feel your own way navigation section. Not quite aiming for the next hill but the col that comes after it. I see runners around me on various different lines as we all imagine the spot we are heading to somewhere ahead in the mist. I think get a decent line and find the start of the wall. I can relax now nav wise for a bit. I know that I'm pretty much following this wall all the way to galteemore. And that's what I do. A fierce hail storm attacks me from the left forcing me to stop and put on my jacket and gloves. I continue over Galteemore to Galteebeg. I see an orange figure there (Martin Hennessy) who reminds me to watch the nav from now on. He's right, the route gets very unclear but I manage to stay on course. There's a lot of sheep meet their end up here. Probably mates of yer man. Bones everywhere. The last time I ran this race in 23 I ended up waist deep in a bog hole beside an unlucky, deceased ovine and I actually spotted him again this time. Well, his bones and he served as a warning to pick a better line this year. I continue on past Lachlan's castle (cool place). Further on I see a lone first aid kit sitting on a cairn. Perplexed, I approach to find it is not alone as our race first aider Tom Blackburn rises out of his shelter in the Cairn. He points me on the right path onwards and I progress down out of the cloud and finally get a view.
I opt for the path less traveled and take the straighter line at the 18k mark towards the dead forest and get on the undulating rocky highway along it's edge. Many, many times I almost faceplate here as I clip toes on large rocks but somehow I manage to get to the end. Passing the cabin(as named on the map) I can see two hi vis volunteers on the last high point. I make the best line to them from old tracks through the heather and past them I get to the hammerhead (last waypoint). Onto the fire road. Speed time. I hear a cuckoo in the trees off to my left as I do my best to swing the arms high and keep chugging on. There's one kicker of an uphill on the fire road. Up and over. Passing a fire road junction I catch a dog walker in the corner of my eye. 200m onwards I hear some skipping beside me and feel a soft nudge on my right hand. I look down to see a boxer puppy galloping beside me. I stop, it slaps it's paws on the ground in play. Ah no, this guy will happilly follow me into Cahir just for the craic. I have to stop and run it back up the fire road to it's owner who is shouting and running down the road towards me.
In a bid to recover lost time I remember from last time a bike track off to the right that is a bit quicker than the recommended marked route. I dive in but it proves to be a very different trail than I thought and end up fern bashing through to get my way out of the forest :/
Onto the road and I keep the tempo up to take me into the streets of Cahir. Thank you to the marshals here who kept me from being squashed by traffic and in home to the finish for chats and crisps and coke.
Very enjoyable race. Well worth the trip. Thank you to all the crew for volunteering and keeping us all safe in the hills. One of the great races in the IMRA calendar.