Today began with the premature awakening to an unnecessarily loud alarm at 7:00am. I was up most of the night. Weird dreams, loud apartment, warm, cold, warm, cold. One of those nights. I did not want to get out of bed, but today we had planned to go hiking with the UCC Mountaineering Club in the Knockmealdown Mountains which tower about two hours away from Cork. And yes, that is ACTUALLY what the mountains are called. I figured the Mountaineering Club would be the perfect way to get acquainted here. Anyone who likes spending that much time in nature is my kind of person: authentic and grounded, looking for beauty in every place around them. Every weekend, for 7 euro, 50 lucky students get to head on one of their trips anywhere in the countryside for a remote and challenging hike. Today was the first of many. It was two hours to the trailhead, and I knew if I slept on the bus that I would be a gonner for the hike, so I kept myself awake. As soon as we pulled up we knew the weather was grim, (and I mean GRIM) but this wasn’t a huge hike, we figured lets just head up! Its just walking in the rain! WELL: “Trails” in Ireland are more like wherever you can step. You kind of just follow the rocks and the river. In the pouring rain like today, we were slipping and sliding up lose rock while a stream formed and poured to the base of the mountain beneath our feet. It was kind of beautiful to experience such a remote kind of hiking. We headed straight up the rocky river to the first summit, where there was so much fog we couldn’t see any further than 10 feet ahead of us. The wind blew our eyes rosy red and chilly sniffles were echoing like percussion in the wind. We traversed 2 summits over, occasionally stopping to wring out our gloves our shake out our hoods. The echo of the rain on my hood got so loud I had to take it off occasionally, just because it made me feel so attacked, so claustrophobic. I preferred to score my hike with the giggle of the bubbling stream forming beneath my feet or the whisper of the breeze in my hair. Once we reached our third summit we had been hiking for about 2 and ½ hours. We were spent. Each breath felt like one underwater, but we had to keep moving. Each gust of wind felt like a knife in the face, but we had to keep moving. The best part was, there wasn’t a single soul in our group who wasn’t exhilarated in that moment. Something about the challenge ignited the sense of adventure in all of us. I think that’s the best way to feel alive. Get yourself to the top of a mountain. You have no choice but to get yourself down. Might as well enjoy the stroll while you’re at it. Something about the challenge ignited the sense of adventure in all of us. I think that's the best way to feel alive. We couldn’t turn around and go down the way we came. The rocks were glistening under a bubbling stream and it was straight down. That’s 50 concussions waiting to happen. The only way to get down before we all turned hypothermic was to bushwack down to the nearest road and walk to the bus. So that’s what we did. A few of us, myself included, were wearing running shoes because we didn’t understand the intensity of the hike. So the wet rock and the dense mud became mildly problematic, especially upon our descent. I figured out that the best way to dodge the slippery obstacles was to step on the nearest plants, but UGH it just broke my little heart to crush a plant with every step. I tried to avoid doing this by making switchbacks, but I fell 6 times. I think it was just 6…my apologies to the bus driver who had to clean up our muddy mess after this trip. Eventually I gave up protecting the plants and I knew it was my life or theirs, so SORRY LITTLE FELLAS. I want to survive this day. My sleeves were dripping wet and I had soaked through 3 of my layers. (I’m suing you Patagonia.) But I WAS SO HAPPY!!!! I had never seen the landscape I was seeing and I certainly had never been stuck on a mountain in a storm like that. One of the Irish leaders walked past me and started singing to himself as he skipped through the bushes and the rocks. We stumbled across a hole in the hill and they started yelling, “It’s a leprechaun hole!!! We’ve got to get him out!” The Irishman attempted to summon the “leprechaun” from his home while we tiptoed down the muddy marshlands, blinding by the frosty fog. We reached the bus with so much relief and joy, looking back on the mountain covered by ominous fog saying, “holy shit, we were in that. We climbed that.” I think that’s the best thing about hiking. You conquer a mountain by midday, and by evening you’re reminding yourself what a strong person you are. There is always a solution, always an adventure, and you always have a choice. A choice to be bold, patient, open minded, and happy. Because, the way I see it, Anything can put a smile on your face if you let it. We had to take off all our clothes on the bus to avoid hypothermia, and luckily I had one dry layer. But my mesh leggings and running shoes hadn’t done the best job keeping my lower half warm, or even remotely dry. You know when you are so cold you can feel your insides shiver a little bit? That was me the whole way back. But that thrilling adventure was worth every raindrop, every gust of wind, every buttcheek in the mud, and certainly every item of clothing hanging to dry in my bathroom right now. Because it is those wild adventures that deeply connect you with the earth and with yourself. They remind you what is dear about yourself and your surroundings, that there is always a solution, always an adventure, and that you have a choice. A choice to be whiny and fearful, or a choice to be bold, patient, open minded, and happy. Because the way I see it, anything can put a smile on your face if you let it. And boy, this sure did. Sometimes I think I was born for days like this. Thanks for the reminder, Ireland. PS: Check out the gallery for loads more pics! Courtesy of my good friend Megan Hester until my camera arrives. (THANKS MOM!!) MEGSTAKES: -didn't bring hiking boots to Ireland -obviously fell numerous times -held my water bottle between my thighs on the bus (while multitasking) and squirted water all over my crotch. So I started the rainy hike with a wet crotch and butt. -Pretty confident that one of the times I fell I landed straight in a pile of sheep poop. Please enjoy this pic I posted on Instagram that makes me feel like we are a strong fellowship carrying a very powerful ring to Mordor:
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorOne day at a time. Archives
March 2017
Categories |