Climbing the Minor’s Trail

Climbing a Mountain Dream

In the middle of writing my second novel ‘The Twins Twins’ I decided to climb Muckish Mountain in Co Donegal.

Simon my nephew and his wife Cathy offered to take me. My thinking for climbing the mountain was to get a real feel for the main protagonist of the book who had come from Australia to live at the foot of the mountain. I’d viewed all the online climbers and videos Donegal Mountain Team I wasn’t a climber but I wanted to climb Muckish .I’d climbed Crough Patrick while on holiday in Co Mayo years before. I still vividly recall the hands and knee slippery crawl to the top only to find there was a thick mist and it was nearly impossible to seen the other pilgrims.

The day of the climb dawned bright and clear.

Simon collected me in Strabane. “We’re heading for Killygordon (Co Donegal (to pick up Cathy, Evelyn, the niece Ellen and Tony, the dog,” he said as I climbed up into his jeep.

My first close up of Muckish rising in the mist was breathtakingly beautiful. A few cars were parked up but Simon manoeuvred his way past and took a road that got narrower and stonier as he crawled along. I wonder was I stone mad. Should I start praying like we had done climbing Croagh Patrick?

I had no need to worry my two intrepid guides had come fully prepared.

I’m going to let the images tell the rest of the story except to say it’s not everybody who has a cooked lunch halfway up the Miner’s Trail. I’d never have made it up to the top where I fell on my ass on the stony summit or down again without the help of this great couple. And their baby Eleanor keeping us all going shouting from her baby harness on her father back, “Up, Up,” every time we stopped to draw breathe and admire the view. While Tony, the dog, as large as a small pony, weaved in and out between the huge boulders that dotted the cliff face, as if he was our Sherpa guide.

When I am an old old woman I will remember the feeling of utter exhilaration as I stood on the summit and below me spread out like a painting, the fields and rivers of Donegal and Tyrone.

At one stage as we inched our way keeping close to the cliff face and away from the edge Cathy called back to me,” You alright, Gemma? See the next book you write, make sure the main character is living in a fancy hotel in London or New York.”

It was beginning to get dark as we reached the foot of the mountain again. I was done. My legs were like lumps of jelly. It was two steps back and staggered steps sideways trying to find a way between the rough terrains.

Cathy, you are one good patient woman. Thank you Simon. You made my dream come true and gave me a priceless memory.

Gemma Hill 2021©