Mirror Wall and the Burren
Refraction (E5 6a) on the Mirror Wall, Ireland. Photo: John McCune
Was it all a dream? Was that really two weeks of climbing… of sun… in Ireland?
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Parked beneath Céüse in France, sticky rain smeared the van windows. Christelle and I had two weeks of precious holiday, but the forecast was bleak - even Spain and Greece were wet. “Where is the good weather?” I said, desperately punching locations into the search bar. Surprisingly, an enormous high pressure was pinned over Ireland and the UK.
Thanks to Irish friends like John McCune and Paul Swail, and cult films such as Underdeveloped, my previous trips to the Emerald Isle have imprinted lasting memories: dark cliffs rising like bastions, stunning lines, and quiet grassy fields. Take it from me, too: you’ve got to go to Fair Head. But Ireland’s fickle weather and booming Atlantic waves make it fickle. “If I use my one flight of the year, it’s got to be somewhere good,” Christelle said.
“Bingo!” I replied. “How about the Mirror Wall?”
Two days later, driving our rental car towards Galway, we grinned into the setting sun. Leaving the rain on mainland Europe and stealing across Ireland felt like we’d made an escape.
Pitching our tent on the top of the crag, we lived out of the car and climbed to our hearts’ content. “Why is the grass so lush and green?” Christelle asked. “Because it’s normally raining!” I replied. The approach is so short you can use a shopping bag to carry your gear. The Burren’s smooth, vertical walls are dramatic, cut by a knife and sculpted with sidepulls. The limestone is bullet, and the sea licks at the boulders with their bald heads poking out of the water. I like the clean-cut nature of the crag: you’re either climbing, or you’re sat on the grass at the top, leaning over, the updraft in your hair. The cracks bite, but they also eat up good gear. The Aran Islands, squatting just offshore, act as the weather forecast. The passing of time is marked by the sighing of the sea as it rises and falls throughout the day.
We picked routes based on how they looked and recommendations from friends. Hopping along the giant smooth boulders at the base of the crag, I’d occasionally find a wobbler to satisfyingly rock back and forth. Locating the route, we’d flake the ropes and check out the starting moves. Once climbing, the world shrank to the next holds and searching for gear. Wiggling in a wire and swapping my feet on a good edge, I’d spend a few minutes trying to find the best placement. Satisfied, I’d plan my next sequence, shout down to Christelle, and then go for it, arms burning until better holds arrived. Flopping onto the grass at the top of the crag was always a highlight. I’d lean over and shout “saaaaafe,” then watch a bus-load of tourists waddle to the cliff edge, take a photo, and leave. Day after day, totally content, we’d rinse and repeat.
I think a good test of a crag’s quality is whether it’s worth the journey. Our travel was particularly long, and we left the world-famous crags of France, but Christelle raved about the climbing as much as I did. She quickly worked through the grades again, ticking classics like Siren (E3 5c), and then smoothly headpointing Eliminator (E5 6a). I was also impressed to meet so many other climbers, locals and visitors alike, on a daily basis.
Another strong feature of the crag is its westerly aspect, which means late starts and memorable sunsets. When we’d fried our arms, we’d sit on the grass and cook dinner over a little gas stove, watching the sun melt into the sea and paint the world gold. On rest days we only needed to drive a few kilometres for water and a cold shower at the beach. Guinness, trad sessions, and swims kept us otherwise entertained. Life was simple and idyllic. We were exactly where we wanted to be, longed for nothing, and could climb as much as we like. The joys of great weather! To be honest, there was a short downpour but it was on our rest day, so we barely noticed. And although we could’ve visited the famous sport climbing on the Aran Islands, we were filling our boots at the Burren.
A few climbs were particularly memorable. The Jelly Situation was a great Deep Water Solo, and is quite high at the top. I checked it out on a rope, then did it the next day. Pretty much every E5 and E6 was brilliant, from face climbs like Ice Queen and Refraction to the techy Stigmata and Sharkbait. Although I didn’t onsight Very Big Springs (E7 6b), I got it after some huffing and puffing. And on the last day of the trip I went for an optimistic lead attempt of Snell’s Law (E7 6c) but fell in the crux. At least it’s good to have something to come back for.
Some trips, everything just works out. The weather was great, the climbing was fantastic, and life was simple. Driving back towards Dublin airport with sunburnt cheeks and tired arms at the end of our trip, I felt very happy and satisfied. The Burren is a special, quiet place, and we’d had a blast. I hope others enjoy the magic of this crag too.
