Slieve Donard

A year ago I was in the early part of a journey to recover my health after a long illness. I hoped I would be able to become as fit and healthy as I was before I became ill. This was an aspiration, I knew I was on a journey of recovery and I didnt know how far I would be able to travel along it. So I imagined some ultimate achievements that would show I was fully fit again. One of these was to climb Slieve Donard.

As soon as I was mobile again after my cancer treatment I had begun to walk. I decided to walk every day: at first a little, then further, then for a quarter of an hour and so on. I walked on the roads around my house and then along the beach at Murlough with my friend Avril. Looking up I would see the saddle that divided the peaks of Slieve Donard and Slieve Commedagh and wondered if I would ever be able to go into the mountains again.

As time went on I completed a charity walk around Belfast and extended my walking into Tollymore and Castlewellan Forest Parks with plenty of rough trails and small hills. I then ventured into the Mournes on long upland trails to Lough Shannagh, Hare's Gap and the Brandy Pad.

Last December, I ascended my first real mountain - Slieve Meelbeg. I set out with some trepidation but it went well, the climb wasnt anything like as tough as I expected. After that I did hillwalk's once a week or so, choosing the better weather days and gradually ascending the other main summits of the Mournes. The last, of course, was Slieve Donard - the highest mountain in the north of Ireland at 2,789 ft.

On Thursday the sun shone brightly and I headed steadily up the river to the Ice House and along the glen to the base of the saddle. I stopped for tea from my flask and a snack then set off again up the steep path that curved up to the saddle. No-one was at the saddle and I felt in a good rhythm so I decided to keep on going up the last steep 1000 feet. I trudged steadily upwards beside the Mourne wall, choosing my footholds and trying to keep my breathing even. The wind pierced through gaps in the wall and brought the sharp croaks of a passing raven. A harbinger? I kept on, one foot after the other. As the ground began to even I looked up, the turret and trig point at the top was in sight.

I placed a stone on the summit cairn and relaxed. I could see Newcastle and the beach at Murlough shining below. I'd made it in good style, reaching the top of the mountain in half an hour from the saddle and a little over two hours from Newcastle.

The wind was strong and cold, I sheltered behind the wall and had more tea and food. The summit cairn is in fact a neolithic passage tomb, dating from 3000 BC, the highest ancient site in these islands. It is also associated with St Domanghairt (or Donard), a disciple of St Patrick, who it is said made pilgimages to the summit from his monastery in the village of Maghera and lived there as a hermit until his death in 507 AD.

Within five minutes a storm blew in and sleet began to fall. In ten more minutes the top of the mountain was carpeted white. I thought about the detachment of Royal Engineers who camped on the summit for four months in 1826, making it a base for the triangulations of the Ordnance Survey in this part of Ireland. Two of the party had died in a snowstorm.

The storm subsided and was gone as quickly as it had arrived. The sun came out again and the summit shone. I had completed my journey back to health and vitality. It was time to return.