Michael Reardon - Pro Blog 5

This extraordinary area is home to some of the best sandstone I’ve ever touched. A vast lush valley is lined on both sides with dark purple rock, splattered with massive bands of white quartz. Unlike the desert sandstone that crumbles with the slightest touch of water, this rock has been showered on for millennia which makes it as hard as granite, and the slightest breeze dries it immediately without the seepage. My second day there, the sun came out and stayed with me for a 10-hour stretch that allowed me to solo more than 30 routes (many of them several times over for a total of 50 laps), including a fantastic line my friend Damian O’Sullivan put up called Far Away Friends, as well as some onsights in the 5.11+/5.12- range.

Con called and had me join him in the southern region of Co. Kerry to meet with a priest also named Michael (pronounced “Me-Haul” in Irish) and many of his parishioners, for a tour of the Skellig Islands. These rocky outcrops require a boat ride to get to, and are home to thousands of birds, including puffins, as well as a remarkable village that was inhabited several hundred years ago, where the people lived for twice as long as most others on the mainland. The day’s conversation with Michael and his group, mixed with the spirit of the area, was exactly what this pagan needed and gave me hope that not everyone is as hypocritical in their beliefs as America’s current paranoid administration would have us believe.

Later that afternoon, back on the mainland, I wandered over to the sea cliffs, made up of stunning dark black sandstone and soloed 20 routes up to 5.11. My final route was a long overhanging face climb of tiny edges with heel hooks 200 feet in the air, and finished at the edge of a lush green pasture, with the sun setting behind me in a colorful bed of clouds. It was two hours past closing time for the kitchens, but Con convinced the folks we were staying with to save a meal, and what a meal it was! A massive slab of fresh salmon was followed by a plate of steamed vegetables, potatoes, and a bowl of apple crumble with home made ice cream bigger than my backpack — of which I ate every bite and felt hungry for more. Guinness and wine with a couple whiskeys satisfied the rest of my appetite in the ensuing craic (“party”).

The following day brought me to one of my favorite climbing areas on the planet — the great sea cliffs of Ailladie. This limestone wall is on the edge of an area known as the Burren. Miles of limestone stretch as far as the eyes can see, and only the purest of ethics are adhered to.

Ailladie itself is a wall that stands more than a 100 feet tall in spots, and the Atlantic Ocean regularly scours clean, with waves washing over the top every winter. I spent the next couple days meeting with new friends and old, sharing pints and soloing quite a bit, including a 5.13a that might be a brand new line according to the local guidebook author.

Several days of this mixed with great bouldering and wandering about the Burren, playing on routes I hadn’t been on before. Now I’m heading to the Dublin airport to pick up Damon Corso, who spent the last two days stranded in Philadelphia, partaking in the annual African-American Motorcyclists Pajama Party. I wish I could make this stuff up.