Carnmoney Hill
I climb up the south side of Carnmoney Hill from the O’Neill Road (B513), following a muddy path. The route is steep in places and rises between mixed hedgerows of hawthorn, ash and bramble. The tree buds are yet to burst open with new growth, but there are definitely signs of spring around. The robins and wrens are singing, and the fresh, green leaves of the hedgerow plants are starting to show, indicating where herb Robert, primrose, bush vetch, and wild strawberry will bloom in the coming months. In addition, the hazel branches are decorated with pale catkins, sometimes called lambstails. These are the male flowers, the female ones are red and less conspicuous, forming close to the branches.
Carnmoney Hill lies in the borough of Newtownabbey and guards the northern approaches to Belfast. Sixty-eight hectares are managed by the Woodland Trust, which has supplemented the remnants of ancient woodland on the southern slopes by planting nearly 60,000 young native trees – one of the largest planting schemes of its kind in Northern Ireland.
On the way up I pause at each gap in the hedge and watch the views of Belfast, Cave Hill and Belfast Lough gradually become more spectacular. There are even appropriately placed seats for me to catch my breath. I find one that faces north, and drink in the stunning panorama of Knockagh, Carrickfergus and beyond. A lone buzzard lifts off a hawthorn perch and lazily glides down the hillside, riding the wind that is blowing across from the radio mast behind me. It whistles through the old boundary hedges and ruffles the coarse pasture-land and the remains of last year’s growth: dead heads of hogweed and brown bracken fronds.
With the haunting sounds of the wind it is easy to imagine the past: the wailing of Henry Joy McCracken’s widow, who supposedly took refuge here after her husband was hanged; the sounds of the Earl of Sussex’s troops who camped on the hill in the 16th century; the fierce cries of settlers of long ago. The name Carnmoney comes from the Irish carn monaidh, which means ‘cairn of the bog’. While there are no signs today of a cairn, two souterrains and a prehistoric rath at Dunanney suggest an ancient past to this wonderful place.
As I begin to make my way down through the woodland, the path becomes narrow, overgrown and slippery in places, but there are enough yellow arrows on posts to assure me that I am on the right track. Every stone and fallen log is moss covered, and here and there the ground is carpeted with opposite-leaved golden saxifrage. Some of the mature ash and hazels appear to be of considerable age, and the stout shoots growing up from the base of the latter suggest that they have been coppiced. Generally the woodland seems in good condition, although I notice towards the eastern boundary where there are Scot’s pines, invasive non-native species such as cherry and Portuguese laurel have gained a foothold.
Around me I hear the regular flap of woodpigeons’ wings as they lift noisily from the tree canopy. Then, I catch sight of a jay moving secretly through the branches, matched by a pair of equally elusive bullfinches. All within a few hundred metres of Carnmoney estate, a fact no doubt appreciated by the locals who regularly use the site. Speaking to some of those I passed on the way round I know that they are delighted that the site has been declared a Local Nature Reserve.
Half way down, I come across a rather unexpected feature: a Victorian Well that has been recently restored, and is decorated with gold-coloured panels designed by artist Paul Richardson. It lies along the lower woodland walk, which on my leaflet is marked in yellow. I have combined parts of this trail with the blue one, which takes in the hilltops and the views, while omitting the newly constructed boardwalks at the Knockenagh Avenue entrance – I’ll leave that for another day.
If I needed convincing of the value of having wild places close to urban areas, Carnmoney Hill Local Nature Reserve would clinch it. Such sites create opportunities for people to interact with wildlife and experience the green outdoors, and so contribute positively to their mental wellbeing. Despite, on this visit, not ‘interacting’ with some of the creatures illustrated on the information signs: no sparrowhawks, long-eared owls or Irish hares sadly, I still feel the better for my time on the ‘cairn of the bog’.