After a pretty grim wet day in and around Belfast the hope was that it would be snowing rather than raining up where we were heading. Snow on the Belfast Hills and Slieve Croob on the way down gave us great encouragement. The lower lying ground in and around the Mournes was pretty clear but glimpses through the clouds were showing the mountains to be well-coated in a brilliant white blanket of snow.
As planned, we headed up the Happy Valley and the going was good. Occasionally we had to pause to plan our next steps as the sound of gently flowing water gave away the secrets that lay under the untouched flat sections of fresh snow. Knee high into one of the streams would not make for a great start to the night. As the ground got steeper the efforts required became greater. I was delighted that I had finally got a chance to try out my new micro-spikes. I thought when it got to March the chance had gone!
We took a breather at the Meelmore/Meelbeg col, remarking at how there would be worse places to spend the night. Even in the darkness the other peaks were easily picked out. With clear skies and a full moon the view would have been stunning.
After another half hour or so we pulled up on to the summit of Slieve Meelbeg, completing the whole walk without the need for a head torch. With the winds picking up a little and plenty of snow clouds moving around we thought it best to get the shelter up as quick as possible. This mountain had always threatened to be a bit of a tough one to find a good pitch on. Tough that is on a normal day; when you can’t tell what is rock and what is grass – pretty impossible. 15 mins later and I had two pegs in about a third of the way each. Fred was having no joy either with his neat 3 peg set up. I had another 8 pegs to try to get in. It just wasn’t going to happen tonight. We quickly formed a consensus and beat a track back down to the col, where 15 minutes later camp was established.
The next few hours were passed chewin’ the fat, supping cuppas and sizzling burgers – all with the pleasant contrast of the warm glow of flame against perfect white snow. Turning in for me was zipping the tent up to keep the cold out, for Fred it was sticking his head under a tarp. About 15 minutes later the silence was broken by the sound of ice axe on snow. A quick fired off question of “What are you at?” returned the reply “Making a pillow”. That brought a smile to my face. It was a good nights sleep for me only waking a few times to the sound of snow on sil-nylon, for Fred that was snow on face. He’s one brave lad.
Unfortunately morning didn’t deliver that killer-view we hoped for but it was great to wake up in soft fresh snow. With the warm glow of porridge in us it was a pleasant dander back down the valley, weaving a bit to try to get a reception to text Liam who we thought may have taken the notion to make his way up to see us at the top. Thankfully he had decided otherwise.
It was great to get a final proper winter camp in, here’s a few pics to share. Sorry no views.
