Two must-do hikes and one thing to know before walking the Wicklow Way this May

May in Wicklow is all fresh leaves, long light, and trails that feel newly alive after winter. The air smells of gorse, the hills glow green, and the sea flickers on the distant edge of your map.

Walk a little, and the mountains open into broad valleys where skylarks rise and rivers glitter. “This is Ireland on its best behavior,” one hiker laughed, boots muddy and grin wide.

Here are two walks that catch the season at full tilt, plus the single truth you need before you lace up for the journey.

Djouce from Crone Woods: boardwalks, sea views, and the hum of spring

Start at Crone Woods car park and pick up the familiar waymarks through high forest and out toward the open upland. The path clings to the edge of the Powerscourt valley, where the waterfall thunders far below and the breeze tastes a little like salt.

Soon you reach the bog bridge that leads across White Hill, a wooden ribbon that keeps feet dry and spirits high. “The boardwalk hums under your boots,” a local once told me, half joke, half truth.

Keep climbing to Djouce and watch the world spill open: the Irish Sea, the Sugarloaf’s neat cone, and the dark sweep of upper Wicklow. In May the hills are loud with birds, the gorse corsage bright, and the wind brisk enough to feel clean.

Figure about 13–14 km out-and-back, with steady gain and forgiving underfooting once you’re on the boards. Carry a light layer, because the summit greets you with weather, even on friendly days.

What sets it apart in May is contrast: sheltered green wood, then a bald, bright ridge rolling to the sea. It’s the Wicklow Way distilled into a single afternoon, equal parts ease and exposure.

Glendalough to Glenmalure: old valleys, high saddles, and a pint at day’s end

Begin in Glendalough, where oak woods hold a sweet shade and bluebells thread the banks of the river. The round towers watch your start, and the lake light looks almost painted.

Climb toward the shoulder of Mullacor, the Wicklow Way’s gentle ramp between two storied valleys. The trail rises past peat-dark springs and heather that’s biding its time, while ravens draw black circles in the sky.

From the saddle, the world tilts to Glenmalure, a long glen with battle-heavy history and a pub that seems designed for muddy boots. “I came for the views, stayed for the soup,” a walker quipped, spoon halfway to smile.

Expect around 14–16 km point-to-point, with firm waymarking and a rewarding rhythm: up through ancient wood, over open shoulder, down into a valley that feels endless. In May, water runs quick and clear, and the trail carries a kind of calm you’ll want to pocket for a bus ride back.

If you need logistics, St Kevin’s Bus links Dublin with Glendalough, and local taxis can bridge your return from Drumgoff or Laragh. Book ahead on bank holiday weekends, because beds fill fast with springtime pilgrims.

The one thing to know before May: dogs and wildlife come first

Here’s the non‑negotiable thing: this is lambing and ground‑nesting season. The Wicklow Way crosses farms, Coillte forests, and National Park uplands, and wildlife needs quiet, not well‑meant off‑lead adventures.

Keep dogs on a short lead, always, or choose to leave them home. Some landowners prohibit dogs entirely, and rangers will ask you to turn back if rules aren’t kept. “One loose minute can cost a lamb or a nest,” a shepherd once said, not unkindly, just firm.

This isn’t box‑ticking etiquette; it’s the price of shared access. Gates should be closed behind you, stock given wide space, and trails respected like a living line. In return, the hills stay open, and May keeps its gentle music.

If you’re unsure, check National Park advice and route updates before you go. It takes two minutes, and it saves hard conversations on a stile with a watchful ewe.

• Quick pack adds for May: a light shell, a warm layer, 2 liters of water, sun protection, and a simple tick check plan for when the boots come off.

Stand on Djouce with the wind in your teeth, or drift into Glenmalure with legs a little jelly and heart surprisingly light. May makes generous promises in Wicklow, and—if you mind the rules—the trail keeps every last one.