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

Luggala

(by Gerry Moss, September 2011)
Good luck with the weather on this day-trip to the Wicklow crag.

It’s been a funny old spell of weather over the last few weeks – not a lot of sunshine, but not too much rain in East Leinster either. So I reckoned Luggala would still be in good nick and with a dry, breezy day promised, Jane and I decided to have a look.

We were a bit taken aback at how wet the walk-in was, not a good omen, and this, coupled with the low hill mist, cast some doubt over our optimistic outlook.

But we were grand. Well, almost. I had promised to introduce Jane to the wandering delights of All Along The Watchtower, but the ledge at the foot of the climb, and the first few moves, were damp and greasy. Ten years ago I would have pushed through regardless, but I’m beginning to get a modicum of sense in my old age (the trouble is, it will probably be cancelled out as I enter my dotage – it’s no shame to be getting on a bit, but it does have its drawbacks). Anyhow, I decided not to waste time faffing about, and backed off, much to Jane’s relief.

So I decided to introduce her to the wonderful VS, Clingon / Claidheamh Solais, one of the jewels of the crag.

We opted out of approaching it via Pine Tree Buttress as I had spent too many precious minutes below The Watchtower and besides, at this time of year the approach along beneath the crag is smothered in shoulder-high ferns, making for heavy going. However, a night or two of frost will put paid to them.

We worked our way along Conifer Terrace, with me pointing out all the fine routes in the rock above, which, incidentally, were all in great nick – as dry as the proverbial snuff.

Needless to say, our chosen route was in fine shape, as it is for most of the year (the huge roof above shelters most of the route from the rain).

The breeze during the day varied from fresh to quite strong, but we didn’t complain as it meant no midges!

Jane above the crux moves on the second pitch
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!).
First Ascent of Spearhead, Luggala, August 1959

(by John Duignan, from IMC Newsletter Summer 2011)
Reflections on the classic climb and recollections by the first-ascensionists.

Commando Zeke Deacon leads the first climb through the Overhang, Luggala, August 1959.

The photo he took on the climb hung in Frank Winder’s study during his lifetime.

Frank befriended Zeke Deacon and Vivian Stevenson on their visit to Ireland and invited them to Luggala to look at the Main Face. Frank, along with other IMC members, ensured that they got a good welcome on their trip. Deacon and Stevenson. along with two other Royal Marines climbing instructors, spent a fortnight that summer in Ireland. Stevenson wrote a superb article about their visit in the 1960 IMC Journal. Their visit was a tour de force – new-routing in the Poisoned Glen in Donegal with the Drasdo brothers; battling their way up Seventh Heaven in Connemara in the rain; and then travelling east. In Wicklow they put up Spearhead, rated Hard VS, in Luggala, and Cornish Rhapsody, rated Extremely Severe, on the Upper Cliffs in Glendalough. The “new routes” section of the IMC Journal reviewing the climbs of 1959 salutes their Luggala climb and its importance in Irish climbing.

Looking at the picture, I can’t help wondering about these men. Deacon is seen balancing on boots, hemp rope coils around his waist. He has made a thin hand-traverse – no positive footholds, only smearing with his boots – and edged out over space and made the strenuous move around the corner into the unknown. There is no way to reverse the move. Beneath him the climb drops away for over two hundred feet. What did he feel at the time?

Re-reading in the IMC 1960 Journal The Wearing of the Green by Stevenson, I see he gives his rank as Lieutenant and Deacon as Corporal. How did this team work? Did rank mean you point the way and bark an order?

Did the IRA campaign in the late 1950s give them any concern coming to Ireland?

Frank Winder passed away. I tried to find Zeke Deacon but he was not in the phone book. Worse – when I tracked down Harold Drasdo, he was under the impression that Deacon was dead. He did put me in touch with Vivian Stevenson.

Vivian Stevenson spoke in a strong voice that belied his years. He quoted Tom Patey as saying that Zeke Deacon in his prime ranked with Joe Brown as one of the strongest climbers of his day. He recalled the terror of poorly-protected moves on Seventh Heaven in a rainlashed Connemara and contrasted it with the beautiful day in Luggala, looking over the Guinness estate and Lough Tay. He spoke of receiving a warm welcome in Ireland and in particular of the IMC members’ hospitality. “One of the best climbing trips we had.” Happily he assured me Zeke Deacon was alive and well.

A few days later, Zeke Deacon phoned. He recalled being twenty-nine years old – four years older than Stevenson – and at the peak of his climbing career at the time of the visit fifty years ago. They had only known each other for five months but worked well as a team. There was no pulling rank and he continued to climb with his friend Stevenson for a further forty years. He had gone back into civilian life within a year of the climb. He too remembered idyllic weather on the day. The hand-traverse crux on Spearhead had caused him to fall three times – “Vivian caught me each time as I fell into space”. The physical fatigue was matched with the mental strain of not knowing what was around the corner after the crux swing without protection. “It was a point of no return – what I warned against as an instructor.”

It was a real pleasure to talk to these two great climbers and revisit their trip to Ireland. Frank Winder was wise to skip work that Monday and must have got great joy looking at this picture on his study wall. Our thanks to his widow Jeanne for donating it to the club.

Acknowledgements

Sincere thanks to Mrs Jeanne Winder and Bill Hannon for sharing this photo with the club. If there are any other photos relating to earlier IMC climbs I would be delighted to help research these and will ensure that the photos are returned to their owners. I can be contacted at duignanj at gofree dot indigo dot ie.
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.
Far from the Madding Crowd

(by Gerry Moss, July 2011)
A climbing trip to quiet West Cork.

Heading for the mountain crags at this time of year can be a little bit tricky. As always, you need dry weather but, in addition, during July and August, you need a brisk breeze. Any touch of humidity and the midges come swarming. Which is why, when we decided to head off for a few days last Monday, we opted for coastal crags – where you can nearly always depend upon having a sea breeze.

With the weathermen promising us some settled weather, particularly in the south, we opted for Sheep’s Head in West Cork, as neither Jane or Joe had been there before. It’s a long way down from Dublin, but it’s worth every mile of the journey, for it is truly an idyllic place, with views of Dunmanus Bay and Mizen Head on one side and Bantry Bay and the Beara peninsula on the other.

The community of Muintir Bháire have chosen the red blossom of the fuschia as the emblem of the area and aptly so, as the banks lining the narrow roads are covered in it, along with a profusion of many other flowers. Happily, the roads running along both sides of Sheep’s Head are too narrow to be negotiated by tour buses, so it has avoided the type of constant traffic that you find in places like Dingle and the Burren, for example.

We based ourselves in the little independent hostel in the village of Kilcrohane – it has only eight bunks and a tiny kitchen – so we were lucky enough to have it all to ourselves.

There is a wide variety of routes on the peninsula, ranging from delicate slabs to fingery walls and blocky overhangs. We left Dublin just before eight and were climbing shortly after noon. Our first climbs were on Carrignacappul, only a five minute walk from the car, yet as peaceful and remote as you could wish for. This is Joe on Be Not Afraid, a delightfully delicate VS, with excellent friction:

In the same area Jane led Calum’s Corner, a fine V. Diff, in a very atmospheric setting, starting from a small ledge at sea-level, which is accessed by a long abseil:

Then it was a short walk back up the road, followed by an equally short stroll along The Sheep’s Head Way to the striking Dooneen Wall. This is Jane on The Crooked Crack, another fine V. Diff:

On Tuesday, we opted for Tooreen, near the tip of the peninsula, where there are several outcrops, discovered by Herbert and I some years ago, while scouting out the area. Our target was Square Faced Buttress, a fine piece of rock as yet without any routes but, believe it or not, we all agreed that the weather was too warm for climbing here, as we were sheltered from the sea breeze. What fickle people we Irish are!

Fortunately the hillside hereabouts is peppered with outcrops and we were able to choose one suitably brushed by a pleasant breeze. We dubbed this one Whale Buttress for, as we climbed, we were entertained by a large whale puffing, blowing and lolling about in the sea below us. All part and parcel of The Sheep’s Head scene.

These are some shots of us putting up new routes in glorious weather:

On the Wednesday we dropped back to sea-level again, visiting the crag overlooking Trá Ruaim, with its little stoney beach and pier. We agreed that, rather than repeating the routes already there, we would add a few more. Which we did.

To end our trip we decided to take the plunge, and have our first dip of the year. Well, some of us did. One, who shall be nameless, only managed to get the lower half of the two-piece swimsuit wet. But this didn’t prevent the nameless one from chiding us for hesitating at the water’s edge, or from instructing us, in no uncertain terms, to get on with it and Man Up.

Never mind. It was a grand way to round off our trip, and the refreshingly cool water ensured that Joe was fully alert for the long drive home.

We arrived back to lower temperatures, blustery winds and frequent showers. In other words, an average Irish summer.

Luggala

Lough Barra … too briefly

First Ascent of Spearhead, Luggala, August 1959

Acknowledgements

Millerfest 2011

Far from the Madding Crowd