Over the last year I've been blessed with being able to spend quite a bit of time in the hills. It all started in February when I had my first wild camp in Donard Wood with NI-Wild. In March, Kat and I took to the West Highland Way for our first taste of long distance walking. I also had my first night hike and first summit camp in 2010. But the one thing that has remained elusive is a solo trip.
I consider myself very fortunate to have made many friends through NI-Wild, and I've always enjoyed the social aspect of walking and camping in a group. However, often there is a desire to take things at your own pace, to write your own script as time unfolds. Last weekend I was presented with a chance to experience my first solo trip. Kat was away for the weekend with her Girl Guide company and my own schedule was clear. Furthermore, the weather forecast indicated that Saturday would be the calm before an eventual storm on Sunday evening. Such windows of opportunity cannot be turned down!
"...heading down the only road I've ever known..."
Spellack
I decided to head to my starting point at Meelmore Lodge late on Saturday afternoon. As usual I ended up arriving about an hour later than planned, and this time I had no one else to blame for poor time keeping! I eventually set off down the lane towards the Mourne Way shortly after 3pm. My plan was to follow the Trassey Track to Hares Gap, before summiting Slieve Bearnagh and descending to the saddle between Bearnagh and Slieve Meelmore via. the Summit Tor. From here I would track round the base of Slieve Meelbeg and Slieve Loughshannagh, before making my way to the summit of Doan were I would setup my tarp and bivvy.
One aspect of this trip I was looking forward to was taking photographs with a beautiful compact camera, kindly leant to me by NI-Wild's "Dowser". Indeed it was this same Panasonic Lumix LX5 that had me reaching the foot of Hares Gap far later than originally anticipated. Looking at my wrist watch I realised time had evaporated whilst I had been taking photographs of Spellack and the surrounding area. As several groups passed me on their way back to Meelmore Lodge I decided to modify my plans and leave Slieve Bearnagh for another day. Instead I made my way through Pollaphuca to the saddle nestled between Meelmore and Bearnagh.
Hares Gap & Slieve Bearnagh
Crossing the stile I entered what I like to refer to as the "inner sanctum" of the Mourne Mountains. Civilisation becomes distant with little trace, and the surrounding ring of mountains hold you within a wild amphitheatre. I stopped to take a photograph of Blue Lough before stowing the camera away in the rucksack. Daylight had abandoned me and even the superb low-light capabilities of the camera were not going to reveal any further detail in the landscape. I decided to walk on without the aid of the head torch, instead allowing my eyes to adapt to the dark. Unfortunately I became somewhat sidetracked when I failed to notice I had followed a branch of the path past Blue Lough. This track eventually petered out to nothing but peat hags. After a week of heavy rain the ground was very soft and quite a bit of "bog hopping" was required to get back on track. Even the fairly well defined path had become sodden and slick.
Reaching the stile between Carn Mountain and Slieve Loughshannagh, at the head of the Ott Track, I stopped to put on my waterproofs as I felt the sporadic drops of precipitation in the air. Being much darker now I decided to fix my Alpkit Gamma head torch to my forehead and began my descent to Lough Shannagh chasing a circle of artificial light. I had taken this route on a previous NI-Wild night hike to Lough Shannagh and remembered the ground was riddled with deep pot holes most of the way down. Not wanting to lose my footing I tentatively poked an exploratory walking pole in front of my boots for the remainder of the journey. Often the location of the pot holes was given away by the sound of running water that flows through them, but once or twice my walking pole disappeared leaving me quite thankful that I had brought them.
Having negotiated the final hurdle of heather that lay between myself and the bank at the head of Lough Shannagh I decided to forgo the summit of Doan and instead pitch my tarp where I stood. In the dark I was struggling to see any noticeable route to the summit of Doan and on this occasion was happy to stick with the familiar. I pitched the tarp, laid out my Ridgerest and settled in to make dinner. I had decided to bring my new White Box meths stove and quickly boiled the water for my food. Unfortunately my delight at this impressive little stove was short lived when I realised that Ainsley Harriott's Roasted Vegetable cous cous made the most horrible dinner. Note to self; Moroccan Medley cous cous = good, Roasted Vegetable cous cous = bad.
After eating as much cous cous as I could manage I thought I had better check in with the folks at home to let them know I was okay. Unfortunately I had forgotten that Lough Shannagh is out of mobile reception, and no amount of yoga manoeuvres would provide me with even a single bar of signal. This weighed heavily on my mind for quite a bit of the evening, not because I'm so attached to my mobile phone that I can't live without reception, but simply because I knew a couple of people would be hoping to hear that I had arrived safely. I decided to pack away my cooking gear and try to make my way towards the summit of Doan, hoping the higher ground would allow me to send at least one text message. It didn't take me long to realise that this was a slightly silly idea, and after a couple of near slips in the dark I decided to give up and retreat back to the tarp. It would have been terribly ironic if I had of slipped and hurt myself whilst trying to text home to say I was okay!
Somewhat deflated I decided the best course of action was to unfurl my Rab Storm bivvy bag and slip into my Alpkit Pipedream. It must have been around 8.30pm when I cinched down the draw cords and popped in the headphones. Thankfully I had come prepared with several podcasts from Backpacking Light's archive and spent a good couple of hours listening to these. I had brought a couple of books to read, but I was much more comfortable snuggled up in a cocoon of goose down than propped up on my elbow trying to read by LED light. Having listened to the collective wisdom of Chris Townsend, John Manning and Ronald Turnbull I settled down to sleep, my mind filled with images of Scotland's wild moors, bears on the Pacific Crest Trail and bivvying on a Wainwright summit.
Sunrise behind Binnian
Not a bad spot to pitch a tarp
I slept fitfully, but that was only to be expected given I had so many hours to pass until sunrise. Every once in awhile I peered out the entrance to the tarp hoping to see the night sky alive with stars and planets, but alas I appeared to be surrounded by fog. I woke up quite chilly on a few occasions but was never cold. Often turning over and pulling in the drawstrings was all that was required to regain some warmth. Around 7am I started to catch the first glimpses of salmon pink clouds against the grey dawn sky. Not wanting to miss out on the sun rising from behind Binnian I shuffled myself to the entrance of the tarp, huddled in my sleeping bag. With the sky now clear the temperature felt like it had dropped considerably, but the air was still and peaceful. I listened to the occasional bird call out as the sun came slowly up, the glow from behind the rocky Tors steadily increasing in intensity. Eventually I decided it was time to get up and take some photographs before the moment past.
Warm morning sun on Carn Mountain
Peaceful and serene at Lough Shannagh
After taking several photos I returned to camp only to find the tarp, bivvy bag and sleeping bag all covered in a layer of frost and ice. I guess the temperature really had dropped over the last hour! I quickly boiled up enough water for my porridge and instant Cafe Latte. After allowing awhile for the warm food and liquid to course through my body I got up to take a few more photographs. By now the sky was even more dramatic and a bright orange glow was being cast on the heather surrounding Carn Mountain. A mesmerising orange mist hung above the still waters of the Lough as warm sunlight filtered through the air. At that moment, sitting alone, I fully believed that no other man on earth was witnessing anything quite as beautiful and peaceful as I was.
Long shadows in the early morning sun
Packed and ready to go
By the time I started to pack away my gear the air had warmed significantly and the sky was a brilliant blue with barely a hint of cloud. I tightened the straps on my rucksack, slung it over my shoulders and set off towards the stile at the head of the Ott Track. Under daylight the path of least resistance was apparent, and it didn't take long to reach the stile. From here I was able to send a couple of quick, reassuring text messages home. Heading down the track I had a marvellous view of Fofanny Dam and the surrounding area whilst acknowledging Sunday walkers and fell runners making their way up the Ott Track. A brief road section took me to the small wooded area beside Fofanny before skirting along the bank of the reservoir and following the Mourne Way back to Meelmore Lodge. I enjoyed a welcome pot of tea in the cafe whilst staring out at Hares Gap and reflecting on a beautiful morning in the hills.
The solo trip was a very enjoyable experience for me and one I hope to repeat very soon. I still enjoy the camaraderie of being out in a group, but being alone was every bit as refreshing and revitalising for the mind as I had hoped. A solo overnight trip is no longer elusive; but the summit of Doan remains so. Perhaps next time!
Fofanny Dam
By the banks of the reservoir
Follow NI-Wild
Author
Topic: Trip Review - Lough Shannagh (Read 16373 times)