Slieve Donard

It's been almost a month since I posted! We are mostly out of lockdown so I have more opportunities on the weekend to join friends for walks, meals, etc. My life is the 9-5 with Climate Action 100+ mon-fri, plus getting Paddy out for swims/runs, plus golf twice a week, plus various house/garden projects. There isn't much time left--much of which I waste on Facebook or watching The Crown.

All of that will change on Saturday—three days from now—when I take a 2-hour ferry to Cairnryan then drive nearly four hours to Glen Coe in the Scottish highlands. I'm spending at week at Alltshellach House, from where I will set out each day to hike and/or bike, hopefully bag a few Munros, possibly the tallest--Ben Nevis. A Munro is a mountain that is over 3,000 feet high; there are 238 of them in Scotland. They are named for the man who first charted the number of mountains at that altitude in the highlands.

In preparation for same, last Saturday I hiked Slieve Donard, the highest peak in Northern Ireland. It's 'only' 2,790 feet. However you start at sea level, which is not common when you hike mountains. So you are getting the full 2,790. I have a new phone, so here are the photos. This one is maybe 20 minutes into the hike, which is nearly two hours up, less than that coming down.

Spoiler alert: I made it to the top. But it wasn't easy. It's probably been at least 4 years since I climbed Donard, and my knees aren't getting any younger.

For part of the ascent, I listened to Blindboy on my phone. But I have no idea how much data that uses vis a vis our plan. So when the signal cut in and out, I gave up.

Too bad as it was a really interesting interview with a senator in the Republic who is from one of the toughest neighbourhoods in Dublin, Tallaght. She went from teen drug user/seller to community worker to politician. She had some interesting comments on how to work with people in power. She said the difference between the senate and her community work is that addicts understand that they are addicts. People in power don't. The interview was that good.

Lots of heather on Slieve Donard. Which put me in mind of an Auden poem from high school about a poor Italian soldier guarding Hadrian's Wall in Scotland:

Over the heather the wet wind blows

I've lice in my tunic and a cold in my nose

The rain comes pattering out of the sky

I'm a Wall soldier, I don't know why.

I tried to get this shot without another hiker in it but that was going to be tough. Lots of people doing Donard this weekend. I always try to spare a thought for the labourers who, literally, paved my way to the top. We always, always, walk on the backs of giants.

The last time I took a week off was in December. I'm almost wishing I took two weeks off to explore Scotland. I am so happy when I hike. I wrote an essay about it once: Why I Hike. I submitted it to a hiking magazine, they rejected it, and I gave up. That's why I'll never be an author!!

Can Scotland be as pretty as Our Wee Country? If I look in one direction, I see the Mountains of Mourne, shrouded in midst. In the other, the fields of County Down, as seen here. I actually find the fields more picturesque than the mountains--with the added benefit that they aren't lost in fog.

This wee cairn is near the top. There's also a very large mound of rocks at the very top, behind me in the selfie below. Does this cellphone make me look old? LOL Pictures don't lie.

And another proof of me being at the top:

I didn't dawdle at the top because it was windy and cold.

I didn't take as many photos on the way down. I was really hungry and focused on getting to a restaurant quick like. I liked this tree hanging onto a rock. I was going to write something about my own tenous grip on reality but we've already established that I'm not an author.

The lunch was fabulous, followed by an ice cream--two scoops. At the base of Donard is a seaside town called Newcastle, which has amusement arcades and ice cream shops and all the trappings of a seaside resort. It was full of families and sugar-fueled children, all of which felt a bit odd after being on the moutain, never mind four months of lockdown.

Next up (literally), Ben Nevis.

July 15