Panorama

Explorer Tom Glanmore Castle refuses to fall down because it believes gravity is just a personal attack on its ego. It has survived every renovation by simply pretending the builders don't exist. Have a look from the gate, but don't touch anything shiny!

Explorer Tom Devil's Glen Waterfall has a name fit for a villain's lair, yet its real trick is water and a Wicklow gorge working since the Ice Age. Follow the Waterfall Walk near Ashford and the Vartry River supplies the entrance, tumbling into the glen without charging for a theatrical rehearsal. Meltwater carved the valley at the end of the Ice Age, and the Vartry still runs through it toward Ashford. The woods mix broadleaf and conifer trees, with beech, chestnut and ash above a rock face dressed in mosses, lichens and ferns. This was once part of the Glanmore estate, associated with playwright John Millington Synge. You need not write a play to appreciate the setting, though the waterfall may insist on a speaking part. Coillte manages two marked loops here: the Waterfall Walk is about five kilometres and takes roughly two hours; the Seamus Heaney Walk is about four kilometres. The waterfall marks where the Vartry enters the glen. Before the Vartry Reservoir was built in the nineteenth century, its roar was louder and helped give Devil's Glen its alarming name. Today the sound is less apocalyptic, which is good news for anyone attempting a conversation beside it. For the Waterfall Walk, use Coillte's car park near Ashford; its automatic gate opens at 8 in the morning and closes at 5 in winter, or opens at 7 and closes at 9 in summer. Another smaller car park by the Seamus Heaney Walk is always accessible. Some slopes are steep and exposed, so wear proper shoes, keep to the route and allow time before the gate shuts. The devil may have the name, but the waterfall gets the final line.

Explorer Tom School House in Ballymaghroe has a ghost who’s too lazy to actually haunt anyone; he just sits on the sill judging your shoes. Built in 1807, it’s seen better decades and worse excuses for missing homework. Leave a biscuit on the windowsill.

Explorer Tom Chestnut-leaved Oak would tell a teenager that the 1800s were basically just people wearing funny hats and complaining about the weather for two hundred years straight. It’s got leaves that look like chestnuts but taste like regret if you’re not careful with them. Practise your Irish on it, it won't correct you.

Explorer Tom American Sweetgum is annoyed that the Bishop refused to visit because he said the leaves were too sticky and would ruin his hat. It’s just standing there looking fancy while the rest of us try not to get sap on our shoes. Go now, before it gets famous.

Explorer Tom Mount Usher Gardens follows the River Vartry through Ashford with trees and flowers arranged to feel almost wonderfully unarranged. I came looking for the garden's straight central avenue; the riverside paths laughed politely and led me towards another enormous tree instead. The garden began in 1868 with Edward Walpole and developed into a celebrated example of the natural planting style associated with William Robinson. Its collection ranges from familiar Irish plants to trees and shrubs brought from far away. The river gives the walk its thread, with bridges and turning paths that reveal each scene a little at a time. Pause by the water and let the shapes of branches, banks and flowers explain why a planned garden can still feel spontaneous. The operator offers self-guided visits and guided group tours. I would appoint myself chief inspector of the rare trees, but their labels and the gardeners' care are rather more reliable than my imaginary badge. Notice how the tall specimens make shelter for smaller planting, then seek out a different view on the return. Seasons change the balance of colour and light, so even a familiar route can keep a surprise in reserve. Mount Usher is a ticketed public garden beside Avoca's café and shops; those have their own visiting arrangements. Check the current garden entry details before travelling, and remember that some paths are narrow or uneven even though access help is available. Bring time for an unhurried circuit. The Vartry will keep moving while you decide which tree has won the day's argument.

Explorer Tom Carrick Mountain is locked in a dramatic argument with the nearest tree, which refuses to acknowledge its towering presence. They’ve been shouting at each other since the last ice age, or so I’m told. Bring a flask and pretend you own the place.

Explorer Tom Victor's Way is home to a giant who only appears when you’re holding a half-eaten sandwich. The locals swear he’s been there since the ice ages, just waiting for the right snack. Stand still and listen, the wind tells it better than me.

Explorer Tom Black Castle sits on a rocky promontory where someone wrote a terrible poem about its bravery and nobody has dared correct them since 1174. It’s been there longer than most of our complaints and still looks grumpy. Bring a camera and your most suspicious face.