Name: Club Climbing Night
Start: 2026-09-03T18:00:00+01:00
End: 2026-09-03T21:00:00+01:00
Location: Dalkey Quarry

Donegal Climbfest 2022

After a couple of years of covid cancellations, the Donegal Climbfest returned this year. The Colmcille Climbers put on a great event with plenty of outdoors activities both day and night. A mixed forecast meant numbers were probably lower than anticipated though included five IMC’ers. The event was held in Maghery just west of Dungloe, on a campsite at the back of the local community center. The whole operation was very friendly and the place makes a great base of operations for the area. There are some local crags at Crohy Head and just twenty minutes up the coast is Cruit Island.

The Crag at Muckross Head.

On Friday, en route to the festival, Síle and I stopped off at Muckross Head for an afternoons climbing. We were joined by a plethora of fish and cetaceans who came by to watch us struggle on the underside of the crags many roofs and overhangs. We spent some time watching them too, possibly a little too much. Believe me, when I tell you, it does not fill you with confidence when you call “Watch me here!” to your belayer, only to receive a speculative response “I think it might be a basking shark”. You can trust me when I say, noticing said belayer seems more focused on focusing her binoculars than whatever predicament you have placed yourself in only adds to the apprehension. That said, it is somewhat distracting when from your higher vantage point you realise that it could very well be a basking shark!

Síle stretching out on Primula (HVS), Muckross Head.

We spent the night at Muckross and the following morning drove on up to join the Climbfest. Sue was already ensconced in the campsite when we arrived and keeping her kids entertained on what turned out to be a very wet Saturday. Keith joined that night on the promise of better weather for Sunday and Monday. Enrico and his family were just down the road in a holiday home.

On Sunday the weather brightened up and we all enjoyed a day cragging on the splendid granite crags of Cruit Island (FYI Dave Walsh is organising a meet here in September). We also collected the commemorative t-shirts which were included as part of the registration fee. Twenty euros for camping and a t-shirt, what a bargain!

The shirts were printed in Ukrainian blue and yellow. A fact that must have irked a certain Russian leader as that evening he threatened nuclear annihilation with Donegal being ground zero. Cool in the face of danger (or blissfully unaware) some folk took a stand against the imminent threat of radioactive tidal waves by forming a vigil of sorts telling stories and singing songs around a bonfire on the beach. Certainly, a brave stance against authoritarian aggression. Others, including myself, took the more cowardly though presumably far safer option of The Strand Bar. A position that was further defended, as the night went on, by a protective conga line forming a human shield around us.

Keith following Enrico up The Manc Retrobate (VS), Cruit Island.

After a long night of improbable protests, Monday got off to a slow start. However, since the county hadn’t been reduced to a nuclear wasteland, Keith and Enrico decided to return to Cruit and nab a few more routes before heading home. Meanwhile, Síle and I opted to drive to Sail rock and tick off the classic route Main Mast, which was an excellent way to round off the weekend.

Síle starting up Main Mast (E2).

A big thanks to Alan Tee’s and the rest of the Colmcille climbers for organising the event, it’s great to have meets like these back on the menu after the covid hiccup.

Jokes aside the ongoing war in Ukraine is spreading death, violence and displacement to many so please consider donating to the Redcross Ukraine Crisis Appeal at https://donate.redcross.ie or support in your own chosen way.
Culdaff Climbfest 2016

Climbfest Topo here.

Finbarr Wall – Dublin IMC and Donegal crew

All in it was ace – lovely, lovely people & lovely crags – it’s mecca for climbing…and the weather was good. We had a really fantastic time.

Dave at Finbarr Wall

It was well set up, I especially like the topo’s and the ethos was get new folk climbing! Very supportive group. First day was all about beginners/first time climbers, the lad organising gave everything to this cause.

Finbarr Wall B. Mosquito, Sev 4a

Finbarr Wall stance

Finbarr Wall – Lichen on Granny Long Legs (HVS)

Orange Blossom is the crack I loved but could not do, Dave and Barbara did it, hard to describe how cool it was….it’s the route everyone wants to do….an inverted corner and bumpin up it with nout but a heavy left arm lean until you can grab something, not much for feet as it is an over hang to start then lashing in a hex into a hole in the inverted corner (blue hex fits) and battering up a kind of obtuse chimney….(hard to describe)

We also did Finbars Wall and Brasil Rock ….

Dunmore Head – Inland Wall. Orange Blossom, HS 4b, 12m (Probably the seminal climb everyone wants to do)

Brasil Rock

Brasil Rock

Some of the Donegal climbers (‘Colmcille’ is the club name) said specifically they wanted to try climbing in Dalkey and I said we will organise a meet for that (no bother) and, sure, if they are coming Dalkey why not try Glendo, and I tell you they are very much up for it.
An American in Gola

Last August I unexpectedly had the most amazing climbing experience. I was secluded with 10 crazy people on a tiny island off the West coast of Ireland. (Where there were five times more sheep than humans that typically inhabited it.)

Before voyaging to Ireland I asked people, what should I do in this country? Many suggested to learn how to pour Guinness, see a fancy and historic book called “Kells”, look at cliffs, or tour the Game of Throne sites. But I thought, I wanted a different Irish experience. One of adventure, real beauty, and jubilant sheep.
With some online research and social networking in the Irish climbing community, I was blown away by how incredibly friendly and generous Irish climbers are. I had several invitations to climb around the country within a day of posting. Some meetings didn’t work out logistically, but one did. This meeting was described on a Facebook message to me as. . . outstanding rock climbing in a wild, remote and truly beautiful setting,” “no facilities except water” and “look for a short bald dude.” Sure, why not? Would this be a three-day, three-night nightmare where I’d be stuck on a remote, uninhabited island with strangers?

A friend suggested that as soon as I got there, I should ask the fishermen if I could use them as a potential emergency escape. It could have been a “Stranger Danger” disaster of a group of reckless or creepy people. But no, the team of mountaineers embraced me and encouraged me to grow. It was a once in a lifetime experience that I will never forget. This is the story of an American (me) wild camping and climbing with Irish mountaineers.

Day 0: Meeting Gola

After a 4 hour drive from Dublin, we hopped onto a local fisherman’s dinghy boat. This was the start of our wild Gola Island Adventure.
As soon as we stepped onto the island we saw the only water source on the island (exclusive of the generous sky), and several abandoned homes and farming walls. At that point, I knew that we were in for a wild undertaking.
With every person carrying gear and food the weight of 2 middle school kids, we all thought “Did I bring too much beer/wine?” We trekked over the Heather, wet bogs and half-fallen rock walls. We set up camp next to the lake, trying to avoid the prevalent sheep poop, when possible. We ate by the beach fire pit and slept early. Tomorrow was the day we were going to crush it.

Day 1: Getting Acquainted to Gola’s Climbs

We started the first full day on a place called “Gripple Wall”. We were to abseil (or rappel as Americans would call it) down the sea cliff, to a ledge where the high tide crashed close to our feet. I was told to clip my ATC in and wrap a cord around what they called an “abseil rope”.
Then, James warned, “Do not freak out and squeeze the brake hand too hard or else you’ll fly down the 60 foot cliff.” Ok…noted. “Lean back and go!” I hope that there is more in this life for me. Here it goes… Creeping along inch by inch I peeked between my shaky legs into the crashing ocean waves below. There aren’t many things better than between-the-legs-ocean views and realizing that at that second, because of the kindness of others, you have become a better, more able person.

So if you had not already gathered, I quickly realized that I was not as ready as I should have been. What I was to encounter on Gola Island was quite different from my experiences in America.
Luckily, my new friends were amazing to help me tackle the challenges and get me up to speed on how to be an Irish Mountaineer. I’m going to say it again: the folks I met at IMC (and probably the entire Irish climbing community) are amazing. OK, I had just learned that Ireland is a trad climbing country. Trad climbing is when a person places little metal pieces between cracks in rocks in hopes that it will hold you 5, 20, 70+ feet in the air as you get your body up a cliff. The goal is to place these instruments in the right cracks at the right angle with the right width so that it does not come out and can be later ejected from the crevice by another climber.¬ This is so the rock stays pristine. It is a scary as feck concept. I guess for me this was as good of a day as any . . .

The rock was a grippy granite with large sugar-like granules. Our feet had a great time and could stand on anything. Our hands on the other hand were tentative and well worn and torn after use. Most routes had medium to large slopey crevices that you could jam a soon-to-be-bloody hand or finger in.
We all climbed several lovely routes on Gripple Wall. They included “Pride of Gola” (a fun journey around a corner with pretty ocean views to our left and right), “Jean A Cheval” (a narrow chimney with shimmying required) and “Gripple Wall” (an energizing climb up a straight rock ace).
From the work out, we were hungry so we took a quick walk back to camp for lunch. Unluckily for us, the grey clouds rolled in and started dumping rain on us. And with that the climbing day was over. At night we looked at four forecasts and were hopeful that the next day would bring sunshine and climbs.

Day 2: The True Irish Experience

Boy were we wrong. The Irish rain kept coming throughout the day. Four unsuccessful expeditions later, we gave up trying to climb. The rainy day luckily wasn’t only of us laying in sleeping bags, looking at raindrops, talking to caterpillars, and contemplating life (though it did include quite a lot of that). It also included cooking feasts over a small flame, yoga on the beach, laughs, wine, treks with “National Geographic views” and swimming. Although we were antsy for more climbing, it was a pleasant time.

Day 3: This is Irish Climbing

We were grinning when we saw the morning sun. We knew that this was the day we all came out for. Out we ran (after eating a nice breakfast, of course) to find a dry rock, known as “Inland Crag”. After everyone crushed “Weathered Window” (a tricky bugger that required lots of high steps and trust in yourself ), we wanted more ocean views.

At “Main Walls” we ascended several excellent routes while trying to avoid the waves crashing by our feet. I think our collective favorite route was “Run of the Arrow” (a steady climb within a wellprotected groove). Our climbs were so enthralling that we asked the fisherman to pick us up later (so we’d get back home at midnight). Worth it!

The IMC Gola Island Excursion was an unforgettable weekend of great company and adventure. The stars aligned and I got to spend three days and three nights amongst 10 batty Europeans roughing out what nature doled out for us. We rolled with its punches and trekked, snorkeled, yoga’d on the beach (and in a tent), and climbed some of the most amazing rocks we’ve all touched. Everyone was so kind and generous and rooted for everyone to do their best. Because of them I grew so much (and was able to be warm, dry, and safe). I learned how to abseil safely, trad climb, trad lead, and be a fecking awesome Irishmountaineer.

– Crystal Shimabukuro –
Lough Barra … too briefly

(by John Duignan, August 2011)
A weekend climbing trip to Donegal.

Last weekend the road West to Donegal called. I set off with Barney Crampton – a great storyteller that shortens our journey and has me hooting with laughter. The new road system meant we were started on our Lough Barra route at 10:00 hours: Tarquin’s Groove – a three-star Hard Severe had long been on my must-do list as an example of the best of Donegal granite. The first two pitches of this six-pitch climb were a scramble on grass with little rock. The pitches above it were on perfect granite, free of vegetation. The wind favoured us; the clouds held back.

Barney on Tarquin’s Groove

Tarquin’s Groove rides up the edge of the Delta Face which has the cleanest area of rock on Bingorm West above Lough Barra. There are many multi-pitch routes on this face. Seeing two stars beside Ploughshare (VS 4c) on the vegetated Main Face, we chose it next.

Barney on Pitch 1 of Ploughshare

It took two hours hauling on wet heather, moss and grass to get to the base of the climb. The belay was adequate but I hoped I wouldn’t be testing it too hard. The moves on the pitch above led up to two ancient pitons below a wall. Above this the route appeared wet and lichenous with no gear (let no-one ever complain of Luggala!). After multiple tries and an intervening shower I admit defeat. Barney – who confidently climbs at a way higher standard – was examining the moves when the rain started again. Time to go. Setting up the abseil, we were delighted to see the rain stop – until the midgies came out. To paraphrase Christy Moore, “dem fellas would eat the Lamb o’ God and come back for the gravy”. We found an ancient sling under the overhang which makes us suspect that we were not the first to abseil from this point. We vowed to return to this crag again and taste some of the fine lines we could see.

Rising above us – Erin Go Bráth, Main Face, Bingorm West, Lough Barra

A beautiful meal above the beach on a midge-free Cruit Island and the gentle sound of the waves outside our tent were a fine end to the day.

Barney on the granite Traderg Wall, Cruit

I woke up to the sound of rain on the tent – happily this quickly dried off. Some easy climbs on Cruit and a chat with Tim Fogg and his wife Pam, who climb there regularly. It is clear why the low-lying granite sea-cliff climbs are so attractive when the weather is bad – the clouds completely covered the inland hills.

Planning to return again to this part of Donegal, we decided on a recce to the Poisoned Glen, approaching from a col near Lough Barra – avoiding a long wet slog in along the Poisoned Glen valley. The Ballaghgeeha Buttress is immediately accessible at this point with three-star routes from V.Diff to E2. Further down the valley side views of the Castle crag and the stunning West Buttress with Donegal’s probably most coveted line – the three-star HVS Nightshade. The granite – even from this distant col view – looked as clean as any line in Yosemite. We sat in awe for some time staring at the view below – to me it held the same wonder as the first view of Everest above Namche Bazaar.

Harold Drasdo in his book The Ordinary Route writes of how the Poisoned Glen cast a spell on him. It is a joyous book about this great English climber’s life but the chapter on his climbing in Donegal is electric in his enthusiasm for this special place and the demands it made on so many different climbing skills. He returned to the Glen repeatedly over a decade and is the principal name to be found on routes in the Glen. Other famous lines were created by Bonnington and our own Emmet Goulding and Calvin Torrans.

Our visit was all too short. But heading into this winter I am bouyed by the hope of returning next Easter (a midge-free time!).
Millerfest 2011

(by Ambrose Flynn, August 2011)
Sea-stack climbing in Donegal.

Sometimes unconsciousness is an opaque mistress hiding behind a veil of firing electrons and open synapses. But tonight the unconscious is a fluid asymmetrical playground for dark contorted shapes rising from an Ocean; servile figureheads performing an ancient ritual and granting passage deep into the unconscious. A sensory occult is being explored through flashes of barnacles, yellow lichen, green mosses, white water crashing against altars of granite. Silence! A fading whisper can be heard, “Are you having fun gentlemen” as the opaque mistress returns to draw the veil and recede into light; morning floods the tent.

Our 6:30am start from An Port receded from our minds as we are guided towards the pebble beach. Realm of the Senses and Fortitude in Distress are no longer contorted fluid shapes residing in the unconscious. They are now towering beacons of granite, definite and coarse, guiding us with a timeless certainty. As we pass above their flanks on our ascent of Port Hill we witness the parental anxiety of Toralaydan Island as it cradles several smaller stacks. The Atlantic is calm. Neptune is holding his breath.

Several hundred feet below us An Bhuidéal stands forlorn, scared by a fissure of time, as the North Tower seeks autonomy from the Main Stack. Our group too has split, pods of excited silence walking alone and enjoying the visual feast. We near the hidden steep grassy slope towards our host Cnoc na Mara and its disciples, Lurking Fear, Tormore Island and the Hidden Stack. As we stand facing our host we are children once more, our minds sparking with the kinetic energy of unlimited possibility! Alive! Descent.

Arriving on the pebble beach our host and disciples are no longer abstract monoliths huddled in sacred ritual but rather a unified wall of granite and basalt throwing down an imposing stand of defiance; perspective shifting away from the servile. But our quest is just and we are skilled, unafraid, anxious and ambitious. Iain is inflating our vessel as Barry makes ready for the voyage to our host. Cast away, they move slowly towards the seaward prow of Cnoc na Mara. Contact, barnacle-coated basalt, seaweed-shrouded, Barry is on and Iain is spinning away towards land. Accompanied by dry bags and absolved of societal conservatism I am bound for the unknown, a new route on the seaward side of our host. We slide past Lurking Fear and I am delivered onto a small platform, dry bags emptied and the ferryman is spinning away once again, “Good luck!” He says something about the proposed route but my mind is black and empty; alone, Pincher Martin sorting through climbing gear accompanied by rhythmical swell and circling fulmars. The ferryman is back and Wolfgang is delivered, “Good luck lads.” Everything is cyclical!

We rack up with little talk and decide to solo the first pitch towards the large ledge on our right, somewhere! Our host is mindful and the granite is solid. Arriving at the large ledge we feel the watchful eye of Tormore Island behind us, but our preoccupation is in picking the line above. A v-groove high and snaking to the left is selected. I lead-off. Again the climbing is easy and movement is swift despite a nagging tentative inclination. Flashes of yellow lichen smear the granite and below white water is caressing the toes of our host and disciples. The weight of time is heavy, leaving its mark everywhere, there can be no doubt that we are nothing, irrelevant in all but to ourselves! Cams are placed, a belay ledge has been decided upon and Wolfgang is climbing.

On reaching the ledge the ‘dance of the change-over’ begins. Cams, nuts, hex, quickdraws, slings, extenders rattle to the beat of concentration. Wolfgang is leading. Having only met each other a day earlier the climbing partnership is fluid and assured; a gift from the ferryman. The lead is thoughtful as Wolfgang arranges pro before moving right into the exposed v-groove, “Ok, watch me here!” Confident fluid movement is followed by those dogmatic words, “Safe.” Enveloped by a heady mix of on-sight climbing and situation, we are children again, regressing towards awe-struck naivety and … “Climbing.”

The v-groove is a half-open book with a large crack where the bindings have split, enticing one to bridge out into space. A novel half-finished and made beautiful by time. Off-width and enticing the crack provides a reference point only, as the face to the left calls for exploration. I reach Wolfgang and the dance begins again; above and to the right a roof awaits. Our host has provided quite a banquet! The granite is still solid but each hold is now tested before every move, surmounting the roof with a pinch of atmosphere thrown in, moving diagonally left, everything is cyclical!

Suddenly I’m pulling up onto a grassy ledge using clumps of grass as handholds. It seems our host is not without a sense of humour! The comfort of granite is now a residual memory as a steep grass slope awaits virgin steps. Moving slowly I pull onto another ledge only to be assaulted by a baby fulmar; fortunately its aim is poor and I’ve encountered a case of parental neglect! Now ten metres above the last piece of pro a group of boulders comes into view, phew! “Safe.”

Wolfgang ascending, appears and decides against our last dance as he moves above me and out of sight. Empty fulmar nests, stench of decaying waste, softness of grass, ancient Ocean in constant motion, sitting there watching linked via a synthetic umbilical cord to a German gentleman; life is strange and wonderful. “Safe!” The final act completed, we shake hands and I descend onto a small platform, tied-off and safe, the curtain closes on the first part of this act.

Mike is at the summit block belaying the other lost souls across the arete; words spoken absorbed into silence, “The objective danger is through the roof … amazing … absolutely …”, two beings connecting through shared experience. Iain comes into view climbing, walking, hand railing across the spine of our host. An exchange of words and spinning away once again he descends the contorted discs.

Colm is next to join the high-wire troupe, moving cautiously, climbing the 4b wall separating the lower from the higher spine. Again climbing, walking, hand-railing broken by volleys of colourful language coming from within and above. Connection, a solo electron descending along our host’s central nervous system!

Piaras is next to grace this magnificent stage, moving quickly, focused, the backdrop a peripheral splash of colour. Proprioception is everything! The new dance of descent continues. Iain shouts from a distance and words are dissolved; the Ticking Crocodile is against us therefore Wolfgang and I must leave our island of safety and explore our host’s spine. I wilfully omit the technicalities of our descent, save to say that while Barry was ascending the spine, I was descending; a fusion of five lost souls playing out an act on a knife edge with skill and confidence!

Moving out onto the arete with half a rack and rucksack, hand-railing, standing, turning my back to the 4b wall and descending, adrenaline coursing, unable to open a screw gate, hand-railing, decision-making, switching sides and arriving at the abseil rope. My field of view narrow to the exclusion of our brothers from Belfast, I need a minute! Iain urging swift efficiency, descending towards two more lost souls, unclipping, letting out slack, clipping, Ricky goes into instructor mode, stepping past them and abseiling again towards familiar faces. Piaras and Colm wash my fear and adrenaline away with a volley of abusive language followed by laughter. Barry joins us and immediately sets up another abseil rope, descending. Wolfgang appears followed by Mike and Iain, descending. Iain has manned the ferry and is spinning away towards the pebble beach as Barry takes sanctuary in the Ocean.

The final act is nearing completion as we all stand on the pebble beach looking back towards our host and disciples, now a unified wall once again. Neptune, one who can express such rage, has today held his breath; the Ocean calm and servile. Our host, Croc na Mara, has also displayed patience. A towering mass of granite and basalt culminating in an arete too prominent and inviting to have been accidental! Our host moves us to look and question deep, demanding that we pay attention to our insignificance. Our reasons for being here, together, at this place and time is ephemeral. Playing our part in a perpetual transitory story, one day we will transmute to another state but our voyage will live on as a trace element of something else. Perhaps something as beautiful and inspiring as Croc na Mara and North Donegal.

A depth of gratitude to Iain Miller for his endless enthusiasm and vision.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qsBck_I2bMA

Update: Iain now runs Unique Ascent, which offers adventure activities and training, based in Donegal. Their website is at www.uniqueascent.ie.

Donegal Climbfest 2022

Culdaff Climbfest 2016

An American in Gola

Day 0: Meeting Gola

Day 1: Getting Acquainted to Gola’s Climbs

Day 2: The True Irish Experience

Day 3: This is Irish Climbing

Lough Barra … too briefly

Millerfest 2011