Hello all, last night I almost bit off more than I could chew.
(For the shorter version, skip to 'Lessons Learned'.
If you care to read, my first solo camping trip went as follows;
I woke up on Friday morning and deliberated about wether or not I could be bothered to hike the mournes and sleep under the canvas for a night. Afterall, it was nonstop rain forecast, temperatures down to 3 degrees and 20-30mph winds.
I'm not sure what makes us want to sleep outside in bitter weather, but whatever it is - it took hold of me. Besides, the postman was going to be delivering my new miniture gas heater. I loaded up my rucksack with my new Vango Tempest 300, Gas cooker, some food and tea, dry clothes for sleeping, large river rock bottle, vango rollup mattress, and my blue mountain 350 sleeping bag (more on that later). I would also be taking my trusty steed, Nanook, the Siberian Husky.
I'd be wearing my ski trousers (waterproof to 5000), water proof coat over my fleece, and my Campri boots from SportsDirect. Unfortunately I didn't have waterproof gloves so I grabbed a pair that seemed 'good enough' (One of the decisions that led to such a miserable night, along with 'the tent will be easy set up, no need to practice').
So I was ready to go and loaded up the car. Still no sign of my heater in the post, "oh well, doesn't matter", and I headed off. (Another one of those 'desicions'). *Not saying that a heat source is always required, but it sure helps*.
After many arguement and cursings with Siri the iPad Gps - I arrived at the Trassy road carpark via the ass end of nowhere, adding 30minutes to my drive time and this deducting it from my walking time. It was now three o'clock and I figured that I could reach the top of Slieve Bernagh before it got dark around Six. (Oh yea, I didn't mention that for my first solo camping trip I decided to attempt to navigate to the summit of Sleive Bernagh in 100metre visibility having never been there before).
The navigation for the most part was pretty straightforward. Our team of man and dog pressed on in the cold and rain and managed to enjoy what we could see of the scenery. Then we came to the point where the Trassey Path splits, at the bottom of Bernagh. "Left or right?..". Left takes you to hares gap, and right takes you around the other side of the mountain. "Looks shorter that way - sure the counter lines are pretty close but a hill is just a hill". So I went right. (I found out from a passing hiker the next morning that the other way would have been much easier).
We pressed on. The rain had picked up and now I couldn't tell the difference between the trassy river and the trassy path. Water was in my boots but at least my coat and trousers were keeping me dry (right?).
After a few breath stops and a whole lot of walking later we reached the mourne wall. Great! Now all we have to do is follow it up!". So I looked at the wall running up and it seemed almost vertical at one point - with one particular part running for about 20feet over a huge near vertical stone slab. It was then I learnt respect for the builders.
So that simply wasn't an option. But it was getting colder and viz was dropping so I decided we'd jump the wall and follow it as best we could up the South Western side of Bernagh. It was tough. It would seem that not all hills are just hills. You would not look silly if you were using ropes to get up this one. We had many slips and stumbles - never physically painful but mentally draining as we could only manage about 5 or 6 steps before stopping to rest and to lose 10 from a slip was a nightmare.
Each rest cost precious body heat, and i felt my hands go numb unless i was walking. The temptation to sit down and rest was growing. I'm not unfit, I'm in my early twenties and I have never 'given up' on a physical challenge, but this night I did. We were near the top, I could even see the tor, but if I kept going I wouldn't have the energy to put the tent up and then we'd be really screwed. The problem was, there was nowhere suitable to pitch a tent. "Time to lower my standards". This was no longer about comfort, it was still raining badly as it had been all day, it was colder than ever, and I was on the south west side of Sleive bernagh with 30knot winds from the south west. I parked it in the best place I could see, half on grass and half on a stone slab.
I'll give credit to Vango; it may have been gusting and I may have been slow but the tent was up in about 20minutes. I didn't even secure the pins as nicely as I would have liked as the plan was to get in, warm up a bit, and then go out to perfect the strings and pins before sleeping. I never went out again.
Wet gear off, dry stuff on, dog in the tent with me for some owner-pet bonding hugs (though we'll both say it was for warmth). Warmed up some water and made some tea with the gas cooker. The heat off it and the warm liquid improved moral. I opened the sleeping bag to jump in....but oh no, damp! The waterproof bag it was in was apparently not waterproof enough. But, no choice, I stuck more layers on and jumped in. Now I was really considering bailing.
I looked outside the tent, and the fog had increased greatly in the 10minutes I was making tea. I could no longer see 4feet ahead of me (no exaggeration) and my hand was soaked instantly by the air. So perched on a slope on the top of a mountain I decided going back was not an option, and I just didn't have the strength for it. It's funny how you feel like you'd be able to do these things if you 'had to survive' but if you aren't properly prepared you will just die trying, no doubt about it.
So I tried to catch some some shut eye in my damp sleeping bag. I was just drifting away when something happened. The shivering stopped. That's either good or really bad. The phrase "cold is the enemy" came to mind. I checked the temperature inside the tent, 4 degrees, and the sleeping bag 25degrees, with it being wet it certainly didnt feel that warm. Satisfied I laid down again. The the wind picked up, and the rain, and they didn't stop until 6am. Every gust threatening to rip the fly sheet off and send it to the Antrim coast. I couldnt sleep because of the noise and the fear that at any moment I would get a soaking. I only hoped I could get my boots and coat on and make the 2hour dash to the car.
But the tent stood firm, to my utter disbelieve.
As the sun rose, the storm calmed a little. I braved the elements again and began repacking the tent - Nanook was less than helpful at this point but he did try his best to join in the 'game' his master seemed to be playing with the funny pole and sheet thingy. As for what happened next, I don't know if it was the wind or the dog but I turned around to see my packed sleeping bag rolling down the side of the mountain, (and disappearing instantly as the visibility was around 15metres at this point).
It was another blow to moral, especially as I was now wearing last nights drenched 'waterproofs'.
We made our way down, but despite 30minutes of searching we never did find the sleeping bag (please see my lost and found thread here). Drenched and feeling defeated by Slieve Bastard, we began the 2 hour walk back to the car, back to civilisation, and back to the glorious invention of the in-car heater.
Lessons Learned
- Pack spare matches in a waterproof bag.
- Pack more spare matches.
- Waterproof your waterproof sleeping bag bag with another waterproof bag.
- If your sleeping bag gets damp and you have no alternative, use it.
- If you are warm, it's not too late to turn back.
- Cold is the Enemy.
- Practice setting up your tent, even if the instructions look easy.
- The term 'waterproof' is very much an open ended thing.
So to finish, it was wet, cold, and miserable. Only a madman would subject himself to wild camping wilfully.
So, see you all next week?
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Topic: Cold is the Enemy - Trip Write up (Read 24093 times)