By Kitty McCarthy
For most people the Galtee mountains are a geographical fact, but for us, children, growing up in their shadow, they were a constant presence, and an interesting backdrop to all our activities. Their ever-changing moods impacted on our lives, being at times colourful, inviting, snow-capped, mysterious, sinister and remote, all of which vistas sent a message to the older adults, who could interpret them. Above all they cultivated our imagination and nurtured our curiosity.
On showery days, when clouds’ shadows scurried across the mountain, monsters, witches, animals and whatever the shapes suggested became characters in the variety of stories we created. But the most spectacular entertainment was provided by chain, sheet, and fork lightning, flashing, dancing and zig-zagging across the area, creating a ‘fireworks display’ to the delight of the fearless few.
During the war, an area to the west of the Galtees called ‘The Mossy Banks’ was the Mecca for all local turf-cutters, and when we were old enough to be useful, our adventure began. The Banks are located between two peaks – what was known locally as ‘Two Rocks’ and Teampaillín — and reaching them involved scaling ‘Two Rocks’, while horses and carts transported adults, equipment and provisions by a more circuitous route.
We set off in the early morning, full of anticipation, about to discover what lay between those familiar mounts. Having reached the summit of Two Rocks, we gazed in awe at the landscape below. Meadows and forest, town and village seemed so small from our vantage point. Having identified familiar landmarks, we proceeded on our way downhill from here.
Ahead and towering over the whole area ‘Teampaillín’ commanded prime position, displaying a purple hue, which augured well for the day’s weather. To the north ‘Paradise’ stood guard over the entrance to the silent bleak valley, which was not remotely inviting. We were happy to join the adults now busy at their respective turf-banks
Various tasks were allotted to us, and with great enthusiasm, spreading, stooking and stacking was undertaken to the sound of sheep bleating in the background. The combination of work and mountain air whetted our appetites, so we welcomed and relished the food on offer. This consisted of homemade bread, sometimes bacon or cheese washed down with smoked flavoured tea, the result of boiling the water on the smoky turf fire.
With renewed energy we continued to keep pace with the ‘sleánadóir’ until that day’s quota was reached.
This became our routine during the turf-cutting season, always exciting, never boring, varying our route home to pick bilberries growing in the heather, or to visit the local shop where we spent our precious pennies.
As we grew older and ventured farther afield, we discovered the extent of the mountain range, with its eight peaks, lakes, waterfalls and gushing rivers forming deep gorges on the mountainside. According to folklore, the serpent imprisoned by St Patrick in Lake Diheen, awaits his release when Easter Sunday falls on Monday!
The name Galtee is known the world over, having been adopted by companies and individuals as their logo for products, factories and homes. It is not surprising then, that scaling them has become a very popular activity for tourists and natives alike.
On my return over the years, the contour of the Galtee range on the horizon is my first welcome home. Forest is now thriving where once there was turf. ‘Teampaillín’ tall and majestic proclaims its importance over the whole area, while ‘Paradise’ the baby of them all, nestles close by.
Those mountains have played many roles through the centuries, having sheltered refugees fleeing from their enemies, providing fodder for cattle and sheep, winter fuel for home-owners, entertainment for adventure-seekers, and fresh water in the form of rivers Funcheon and Clydagh.
‘Teampaillín’, Two Rocks and Paradise are My Galtees, visible for miles, menacing when dark mist descends stealthily, majestic and serene in sunshine. Looking eastwards from my childhood home, it was, still is, and always will be where the sun rises and rainbows end.
var _gaq = _gaq || [];
_gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-27142231-1']);
_gaq.push(['_trackPageview']);
(function() {
var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true;
ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js';
var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s);
})();
/* * * CONFIGURATION VARIABLES * * */
var disqus_shortname = 'AvondhuPress'; var disqus_identifier = '46974'; var disqus_title = 'My Galtees';
/* * * DON'T EDIT BELOW THIS LINE * * */ (function () { var dsq = document.createElement('script'); dsq.type = 'text/javascript'; dsq.async = true; dsq.src = 'http://' + disqus_shortname + '.disqus.com/embed.js'; (document.getElementsByTagName('head')[0] || document.getElementsByTagName('body')[0]).appendChild(dsq); })();
(function () { var s = document.createElement('script'); s.async = true; s.type = 'text/javascript'; s.src = 'http://' + disqus_shortname + '.disqus.com/count.js'; (document.getElementsByTagName('head')[0] || document.getElementsByTagName('body')[0]).appendChild(s); }());
blog comments powered by Disqus