The Hike Diaries #1

Over the weekend, myself and my good pal Niamh decided, fairly last minute, to head up north and hit up a hiking trail. We set out bright and early, cruising past Cavan and across the border into the land of black and white speed limit signs. 

We had a playlist from the early 2000's blasting, and spent the journey chatting shite about life, the universe, and everything. Ideal. 

We parked up, kitted ourselves out, and set out like Bilbo Baggins about to embark on a great adventure. 

Little did we know the first hurdle would arrive so soon after starting. We automatically slowed our steps as we surveyed the issue a mere 3kms in. A bunch of black and tan cattle huddled together on the rocky road, taking shelter from the driving mist. Their stoic tails faced us. To the right side of them, the road dropped off into marshland. On the left, strands of long wild grass and deep wet bog that we didn't fancy stepping in (because of course, we wore runners, not hiking boots). 

I took the lead here, not because I wanted to, but because I think if we'd both thought too hard about this, we may have called it quits and turned for home, defeated. 

Single file we picked our way through the pack, feigning total and complete ease, talking as pleasantly to the beasts as if we were trying to sweet talk our way out of a parking ticket. 

The animals could not have cared less. A thick head swung towards me at one point and I may have called him lovely. 

Breathing sighs of relief, we marched onwards and upwards. The kilometres ticked by, and we enjoyed the damp mist scudding past us, obscuring any and all view of the landscape. We pretended it was beautiful in any case. I took some pictures and to be fair, the camera saw more than our eyes, so they didn't look half bad.

The random walkway that led us on a ramble to nowhere

The boardwalk itself I found tough. All uphill. We both wondered if this was going to be the hardest part, but alas, it was not. 

The steps loomed into view and my legs halted at the bottom. I debated setting up camp there. Or we could turn back and pretend we climbed them; it's not like we were gonna see anything at the top anyway. Swirling in my head, the reasons to not go on battered me. Instead I ate two bananas, a handful of nuts, and then we chomped down on protein bars that Niamh's dad made her buy (thanks Mark). 

Revived, we began the journey up and up into the white expanse. Soon enough, I realised why this hike was called the Stairway to Heaven. Visions of the Pearly Gates swinging open hit me somewhere around the 247th step. Yes, I counted.

Legs = jelly. Breath = heaving. Morale = somehow still high. Maybe it was the emergency bottle of Carlsburg someone had thoughtfully left behind halfway up. Maybe it was the two women who'd earlier told us the steps evened out after a while. 

When the top swam into view I shouted down to Niamh the jubilant news, and felt a surge of energy. We'd both at various stages verbalised that at least the way back would be a picnic in comparison to the climb (this is foreshadowing).

Success! We reached the top. 

At the peak, we sat on the cold metal step and squinted out into the rolling clouds. A quick glance at the map told us all about the view, which sadly we didn't have the energy to imagine. We peeled off wet gloves and compared levels of hand numbness. We drank, ate, and thought of the warmth awaiting back at the car.

Time to go.

The view from inside a cloud - damp but delightful

Going down the steps was oh so easy, until my calves and quads began to shake with effort. I reckon the going down part is why my legs felt so stiff over the next day or so. Once we hit boardwalk again, we found our stride and power walked, finally having the gas to chat again. Passing by people on their way up, we were insufferably positive in our greetings to the gasping climbers. 

The way back was uneventful, although the puddle-lake still had to be traversed, neither of us cared, already dreaming about the dinner we were going to inhale and how phenomenal the coffee would taste. 

And indeed it was divine. Blasting the heat all the way back to the Republic, we settled on the restaurant/shop 'Chapter' in Cavan.

Now this place is basically O'Hare airport in peak travel season - cars were queuing up for spots, double parked, and if there was a system to it all I was too dumb with fatigue to figure it out. I made a ballsy decision and stole a parking space from a waiting BMW (I was really very hungry and she was further away and wasn't even indicating...I make no apologies!).

I got myself the vegan burger, chips, and an oat capp, the perfect triad of sustenance. Everyone around was chatting and casually picking over their lunches while myself and Niamh tackled the food like it was a military operation. I don't think I left a single spinach leaf.

Driving on, I forced Niamh to agree to a second coffee (it didn't take too much persuading), and we pulled into Kells to hit up Coffee Works for more caffeine. This one was practically medicinal as my eyelids had been gaining weight for the past 20 minutes. It was a 5 star coffee, I'll be back for sure!

Final Hike summary: