Approaching Slieve Carr - photo Fergal Hingerty (AI-enhanced)

Fergal Hingerty goes in search of Ireland’s 'remotest spot'

The existential question that all peak-baggers are asked by non-baggers is why do it? That question has many answers, of course, and there may even not be one, but a myriad of reasons, why we venture out into the wilderness.

Fitness, the challenge, the scenery and mental well-being are some of the many reasons that drive us to do what we do, but a very common one is the remoteness, and the peace and quiet, of the countryside. In Yorkshire, England, for example, Dry Rigg Moor near Great Whernside (which I have climbed recently) is England’s most remote spot - a mere 2.6 km from a road.  In south Wales there is a mountain called Tyle Garw in the Black Mountains which I have also climbed. It is the Principality’s most isolated hill. 

So, what about Ireland? Where is the most remote spot in the Emerald Isle? After investigating, I discovered it is on the southern slopes of Slieve Carr in Ireland’s wilderness Nephin National Park, in the county of Mayo in the north-west. This spot is 6.5 km from any road.  Not far, by world standards, but far enough for Ireland.

I started by parking to the north at the beginning of the Bangor Trail in the small town of Bangor Erris. I walked over the bridge and started up the trail. The notorious 39km Bangor linear trail is regarded as the muckiest, hardest and remotest trail in all Ireland.  My plan was to follow it for a while before heading for my first peak, and rejoin it on the way back. After a short road walk, I started on the trail. I followed this for around 2 km, before heading for the summit of Knocklettercuss 370m, P212m. A short sharp ascent followed to the drier ground at the summit with its pile of stones.

I descended on tussocky ground to cross a river and headed for Sheean 295m, P120m. The side of this hill was covered in dead burnt trees but, eventually, I reached the summit which was also marked by a pile of stones. From here. looking south, the whale-back peak of Slieve Carr could be seen. I was going to tackle this by dropping south-west into the valley and then an ascent up the north-eastern spur.

I descended, and with a lot of heather-bashing, headed around to the western side of this spur where the slope was less steep, at least according to the map. A short steady climb led me to a minor top with a fine view. There was not much vegetation from here. A gentle hike up the spur led to the summit of Slieve Carr 721m, P648m, marked with a cairn and a trig pillar. It feels bigger, due to its isolated position, and is the 44th highest mountain in Ireland, but number one for isolation,  intin terms of rmsof distance from road.

There are fine views here at what is the ancestral area of a giant of Celtic mythology - Daithi Ban an Fathach. It is said he roamed from here to attack travellers on the Bangor Trail - as this was the major road back in the day between north and south Mayo. I glanced down at the lake below Adamcleeveen and headed south to the next summit Corlieve. The going was good here, with  some peat hags but mainly short grass and dry bog. The summit of Corlieve is at 541 metres. It is a few hundred metres from here to Ireland’s most isolated place, 6.5 Km to the nearest road in any direction.

On top of Corslieve there is a prehistoric cairn known as Leachta Dhaithi Ban (White David’s Cairn). The myth is that this is the spot where Daith Ban built his fortress.

It was time now to head north-west to the summit of Tawnyruddia, 531m, P29m - yet another pile of stones. From here the view towards the ocean is just bog and scrubland for many kilometres. I headed north-west along another spur before dropping onto the bog-fest that is the Bangor Trail.

It is said that, on occasions, Daithi Ban used to go to the sea to wash his feet, using the three islands between Ballycroy and Doohooma Head as stepping stones. The route he took started at Tawnyruddia, and his footsteps can be seen as indentations in the ground.

Finally, with a hard slog over boggy peaty ground, I crossed a river, up and around to the east of a low hill, then passing by a small lake. Eventually I arrived at where I had left the trail for Knocklettercuss and the final few kilometres left before arriving back into Bangor Erris.

This was a wonderful walk of around 21 km, on which I did not meet a soul, although there were a few occasions when I thought I could hear the voice of Daithi Ban. That ensured I quickened my pace a little - just in case. In Celtic Ireland in those remote areas,  more than legends live.