Spurred on by the glorious weather that we’ve been having for the last six weeks or so, I decided to sign up for a 10-mile walk with my local hiking group along the “Agivey river and laneways”. I thought it would be a gentle stroll for a few hours in the sun but it turned out to be more like wading through treacle.
After meeting at the Bridge Street car park in Garvagh at 9.30am last Sunday, we drove in our separate cars for a couple of miles to the walk leader’s house which looked to be in the middle of nowhere. I discovered later that it’s in an area called Ballyagan which, according to Google, means “townland of the deep pit”. I have to admit that I have no idea where the deep pit might be or if there even is one anymore. Or indeed whether there ever was one.
From there we walked for a mile or so down back down the same lane that we’d just driven along before turning off towards the river and into what looked like - well, a jungle. There was no path as such, just a dense network of trees with overhanging branches perfectly designed to ensure that we hit our heads on them. Attacking us at the opposite end was a carpet of deadly root systems that seemed deliberately structured to trap our ankles and feet. It was also incredibly uneven, boggy in places and literally covered in brambles and nettles that meant serious business.
Shorts were not, therefore, a good idea. By the end of the walk, my legs looked as though someone had put them through a shredder. The aloe vera helped once I got home but it was a while before it took effect.
The river itself, which starts in the Sperrin mountains, flows through Garvagh before joining with the Aghadowey river and ultimately into the Bann near Ballymoney. Although it looks attractive at a distance (as you can see from the photo) once you get up close, it’s obvious that it’s not in good shape.
That’s sad because about 20 or 30 years ago, it was home to plentiful supplies of trout and salmon. These days, however, there are no fish because of pollution caused by nitrate run off from nearby dairy farms. Although a farmer himself, the walk leader was scathing about the cavalier attitude of many of his neighbours to the environment.
But of course it’s not just Garvagh and surrounding areas that face this problem. It’s the whole of the north of Ireland. Lough Neagh (the largest freshwater lake in the UK) is a particularly good example of what happens when we treat our precious water resources with contempt. Although almost 50% of our drinking water comes from the lough, it is regularly covered with blooms of blue-green algae which are deadly to fish and other animals. It’s little wonder that people here complain about the taste of their tap water.
But back to the Agivey. Although there were no signs of algae in it, the riverbed and sides were covered in a muddy brown sludge. To make matters worse, the water level was very low thanks to the recent hot weather, resulting in an almost stagnant flow (if that’s not a contradiction in terms). Happily, there are a few people in the area who care deeply about what has been happening and have gone to the bother (and expense) of creating “natural” weirs to increase the flow of the water and clear out some of the crud coating the bottom and sides.
Things were much healthier on the river banks. There were acres of vetch, birds foot trefoil, wood anenome, speedwell and wild garlic (see photo below). And they’re just the names I can remember of the flora that the walk leader pointed out to us. He was a mine of information and could recognise just about every plant and tree on the walk.
He even knew the names of different sections of the river. One in particular - dead man’s pool - stood out to me. According to our walk leader a fisher apparently waded into the river there (obviously when there were still fish to catch) but lost his footing and fell in. Once his waders started to fill up, he was unable to regain his balance and ultimately drowned. I don’t know how anyone knows this as it sounded like the fisher was on his own at the time but never let the truth get in the way of a good story as they say around here.
And boy did our walk leader love to tell a story. Take the one about the woman who lived in a cottage with no running water. Well, not in the way that we understand it anyway. She had running water but it was from a stream that ran along a trough that went through the middle of her kitchen. I know, I know, but that’s what he told us.
Anyway, she started to become really ill and no one could figure out why. It turned out that further upstream there was some type of tree (aspen, willow, I can’t remember which) that was shedding leaves and/or seeds (again I can’t remember which) directly into the stream and ultimately started to poison her. I’ve since googled both aspen and willow and neither are known as poisonous to humans, but it was a good story. There was also the easycare sheep, but maybe he was pulling the wool over our eyes at that point. Yes, an awful pun, I know.
But there is definitely something called an ermine moth that attacks hedges because we saw them. There were just thousands of them, creating a sort of ghostly webbing over the whole hedge. They’re the little squiggly things that you can see which have also formed what looks like a piece of string down the right hand side of the photo but which is in fact made of moths. Sadly, they’re another indicator of climate change.
To give you an idea of the length of time it took to tell some of these stories, we covered 10 miles in just over six hours. Granted, it was hard going given the terrain but on average, walkers who are actually moving (which is kind of the point) should be able to cover anything from two and a half to four miles per hour. By my calculations, that works out at anything between 15 to 24 minutes to cover a mile. We took 36 minutes to do that distance. To be honest, it felt like wading through treacle at times. We were moving so slowly.
By the time it got to 2.30 or so, I was completely exhausted and very, very hot. I could have kissed the ground when we finally left the “jungle” and landed back on solid ground again. Although much easier to walk on, little did I know that I still had over an hour to go before I’d see my car again.
It was 3.40pm by the time that I did. Not surprisingly, I just wanted to get in it and go home. But nothing so straightforward. I was hemmed in, so had to wait for the three others ahead of me to leave. First of all they had to take off their hiking boots and change their socks, then they had to say their long goodbyes to the walk leader and then finally, finally they got in their f***ing cars and drove off.
Will I go on another hike with the club? Yes probably. Although I probably don’t sound like it, I’m actually thankful for so many things about the group - that it exists, that the walk leader could be bothered to take us out, that the weather was glorious, that the company was friendly and that I was still in one piece when I finished. What’s not to like?
I love a good walk well described 🤗