by Seamus O Colmain (Captain 1965/66)
As Ireland emerged from the Dark Ages in the early 1960's the first stirrings of UCDMC were to be heard in the dimmer recesses of Earlsfort Terrace and the College of Science in Merrion St. It was still a time, before PC, when girls were girls and forbidden by College statute to wear trousers. The first membership book is marked "Started 1st. November 1962" although Tom Weymes claims that it was active the previous year (incidentally Tom your membership sub for 1962/63 is overdue). Membership for that year came to 39 and the first name on the list was Jerome Carroll from Science. The Engineering and Science Faculties were particularly well represented. The annual sub was 6d. (2.5p). Inflation set in for 1963/64 with the sub rising to 5s. (25p) where it was to remain until 1965/66. Membership remained at around the 30 to 40 mark during this period. The Club was, of course, not recognised by College Authorities and the case for recognition was dealt a major blow with the unfortunate death of two UCD students on Lugnaquilla in March 1963. The fact that it was an outing organised by the L&H was deemed irrelevant and hill-walking/mountaineering were labelled "dangerous" and to be suppressed at all costs.
Nonetheless a devoted band continued to promote and organise clandestinely. Posters were torn down by the porters almost as fast as they could be put up. Even so groups of between 10 and 30 took to the hills every Sunday, generally in the Dublin/Wicklow Hills but with occasional excursions by hired mini-bus to the Mournes, Galtees, Comeraghs etc. Trips from Dublin were invariably by CIE regular bus service and one of my abiding memories is of long road walks, in the dark, at the end of the day, generally when wet, to Blessington or Enniskerry or Poulaphouca where we would steam gently in the pub waiting for the next bus to town. At the time even a trip to Lug was a big occasion, now it's unusual not to climb it a dozen times a year. The winter of 1962/63 was exceptionally severe with deep snow on the ground for months on end. When I look back at it now I could weep at the thought of lost opportunities for winter gully routes. However, at the time I hadn't even heard of ice axes and crampons. My predecessor as Captain, Peter Roche, had been adventurous enough to go on a climbing course in Austria and was the proud possessor of crampons hand-forged by a local blacksmith. Occasional forays were made to Dalkey Quarry with hemp rope and slings (no rocks or friends in those days) and I remember somewhat painful abseils without figures of eight or other hardware. In retrospect the achievements of UCD MC in these early years were very modest but it was a beginning from which much developed with members and former members achieving new heights in the Alps and further afield in the Great Ranges. As those of us from those very early years contemplate how many more Alpine or Scottish winter seasons may be there for us to enjoy, or when it will be time to adjourn to the Mallorcan fleshpots and foothills, it is a matter of great pride that so much has been achieved from such small beginnings.
Addendum - by Tom Weymes
Really, this has gone on long enough. I'm not just talking about the ridiculous slander in the matter of the '62-'63 sub - though God knows any man like O Colmain who could carry on a vendetta like this for 36 years is clearly in need of professional help - but this whole pretence on the part of the '62 crowd that just because they got lucky with a big winter they somehow started it all. It's like the assumption of every generation of youth that they invented sex.
The fact is - and let all the succeeding generations of UCDMCers take note - that records from the Weymes Archive show conclusively that the genesis of the Club was a slide and film show, held in "86" on Tuesday 14 November 1961 and previously publicised at Freshers' Day. The instigators were a couple of Meds, fairly well on, I think, in their College careers, called Denis McCarthy, from where I don't know, and Michael Camps, an urbane Trinidadian. With talk of the Cuillin and the Alps, these men descended on us, and the coming of the Holy Spirit wasn't in it. We most of us probably hadn't been further than the Hellfire Club, and didn't know what was lacking in our lives - but we knew it when we saw it. McCarthy and Camps were well got in the IMC of the time, and were able to line up what was by the standards of early 60s Dublin a stellar cast for the show. Other IMC notables were there, but the ones I remember were Emmet Goulding and Tony Ingram (you'll see respectful mentions of them in Frank Winder's introduction to the Wicklow guide), who had done mighty feats in the Alps and made our flesh creep with tales of North Face bivouacs. The slides and films showed the IMC at play in a series of locations ranging from the Dolomites to Ireland's Eye via, of course, the dear old Quarry. McCarthy, may his name be honoured for ever, announced that the first outing of the foetal Club would be, not a walk, but a rock-climbing session in Dalkey the following Saturday week. Maybe I'm making too much of this, but is it too fanciful to think that the reason the Club over all the years since was never solely the UCD Hill Walking Club, can be traced right back to the bug that infected the bunch who turned out that day to be shown how to tie a bowline and be conducted up Paradise Lost? The IMC, including even Messrs. Goulding and Ingram, rallied round again for this kindergarten duty. There were walks, of course, the one which sticks in the memory being an assault, again very soon after the inaugural show, on Lug from the Glenmalure side. The day turned out atrocious, and McCarthy for some inscrutable reason led off on a route which involved struggling in driving sleet along the side of Art's Lough. We, the motley mob of 20 or so, didn't know where we were or what was hitting us. McCarthy eventually realised the sort of material he had to work with and beat a merciful retreat to Glenmalure Hostel. For those few of us who, most unusually, were motorised in Des Gilhawley's aunt's Morris Minor, the icing on the cake later in the evening was to see it stall in the middle of Baravore Ford. (No, the causeway wasn't there in those days). Memory is hazy of what happened for the rest of that College year - McCarthy and Camps drifted gradually off the scene, having done their inspirational bit, and there was a distinct lack of committee-like structures or anything smacking of organization. It was as much as we could do to organize rendezvous for the bus to Enniskerry. Still, the seed had been planted and the kindred souls were there. Some ancient photos the archive has also yielded up have reminded me of names like Maura, Denis's girlfriend who I think was also a Med; Sally Gallivan and her cousin Valdie Walsh, daughter of Mary Lavin the writer; and David Walsh the solicitor who in later years helped fight off the Army's attempt to block access to Camara. As well as these, there are the ones with whom, against all the odds, I stagger round the hills to this day.
No doubt I'd have discovered the mountains without Denis McCarthy and the infant UCDMC, but I've always been glad to have to made the discovery in that place, at that time, with those people. If anyone recognises their contemporaries, mothers, uncles or grandparents in this sketch, tell them from me - thanks for the memories folks!