The Dublin Community Blog

Descending as I do, despite a cultivated patrician air and sophisticated epicurean mien, from a long line of rangy mountain farmers, horny-handed and racy of North Kerry’s blanket bogs, I am no stranger to the enthusiasm for a long oul’ walk in the open spaces of the world. On the cusp of 80 years, my grandfather was wont to come north from the misty fastness of Faha Dubh (the Black Wilderness) to visit our chocolate box village by the meandering Shannon and kick along mile after mile of bucolic country lane with his bow-legged lope. Ar dheis Dé go raith a anam dílis.

Suffice it to say, the yen for a wander persists in the Copernican veins. With Bloomsday looming, one is reminded by the peregrinations of Leopold and Stephen that Dublin is just the place to stretch the legs on a fine summer’s evening. As the weather continues passing fair, if not quite so hot, the Dublin Community Blog has a great tip for those who fancy a bit of a turn about the boulevards of the fair city.

Walking Dublin by Paddy Liddy sets out 24 walks which vary in length from a mere 2 mile saunter a la mode du flâneur round historic city-centre sites, certain fashionable precincts and honest-to-goodness cobbled thoroghfares to a somewhat more substantial 8 mile canter about the hill of Howth. My own well-thumbed copy has proved both the impetus and essential companion for several of the most enjoyable days on which I’ve roved out, my wonders to perform, on either side of the Liffey. For the Joyceans among you, it even includes a Ulysses walk, though this frankly should not be attempted sans straw boater and ivory-tipped cane.

One of the Globetrotter series of guides, the charming and companionable Walking Dublin contains everything you need to put a bit of shape on your rambles including, but not limited to details of public transport access to the start and finishing points of each walk, a map of the route, blow-by-blow directions way-marked by points of local and historic interest, walking distance, a generous estimate of the likely time the walk will take and, of no mean importance, the particulars of those hostelries and places of public resort in which the weary traveller may seek a restorative libation (that’s a pint of the black stuff to you or me) and a bite to eat – be it crubeen, tripe or a packet of cheese and onion Taytos.

There has always been a great tradition of walking in Dublin. Not so long ago I read that, as a boy, Flann O’Brien (whose book At-Swim-Two-Birds we’re all supposed to be reading right now) would set forth of a Sunday with his father from their home by the canal just off Leeson Street and walk out of town into the foothills of the Dublin mountains. Mr. Liddy recommends the same and will take the more vigorous of you from the suburbs through creepy Hell Fire Wood to see the even creepier Hell Fire Club which stands to this day in mute, bleak monument to the depravity of those eighteenth century ascendancy bucks who put their mortal souls to the hazard; dabbling in the black arts in their meddlesome preoccupation with peering behind the thin veil that separates the material world from the wierd esoterica of the great beyond.

I’ve used Walking Dublin to find my way from Rathfarnham to Ballsbridge along the tranquil Dodder – a lovely walk – and to inform a wonderful stroll along the coast from Blackrock to Sandycove, my backpack well stocked with picnic wine, baguette and brie from the local Superquinn. And cake.

With Walking Dublin as your constant companion, you’ll soon have enjoyed little-known Dublin treats – visiting the preserved chamber of the House of Lords by ducking into the Bank of Ireland from the portico on Westmoreland Street or whizzing by the Hut in Phibsboro on your bicycle and admiring your upside-down reflection in the curious old mirror built into its façade.

Walking Dublin is available in any daycent buke shop or online.