Take it to the Max
Created | Updated Feb 4, 2009
The Blustery Day
Now, before I start telling you all about our little adventures, did you see the lovely new banner up there? And hasn't Max grown! I wish I'd taken more pictures of him when he was a pup. A very big 'thank-you' to Skankyrich for creating the banner for me; I especially like the Brunel green writing to match Max's collar.
Anyway, where was I. Last week, I had that most joyous of things, a Friday Off Work. I'd been meaning for ages to take Max with me on a trip up Norn Irn's highest mountain, Slieve Donard, and was determined to make an attempt during my office-free time. So I didn't take too much heed of the weather forecast— the snow on the hills looked very picturesque, and I wrapped up warmly against the cold wind that was a-blowin'. I dug out an old backpack from my daughter's discarded collection (discarded because it was either too old-fashioned, too dirty, not this year's model, broken zip….), put essential supplies in it (chocolate and bottle of water), and set off. Max gets very excited at the prospect of a walk, so much so that we have to refer when speaking in his presence to 'the W-word' or to 'a wuh'. And he behaved himself very well on the half hour journey to the little windswept and bedraggled seaside town of Newcastle, where our climb began.
The first stage of the walk is through forest, beside the fast flowing Glen River—so fast that it's mostly waterfalls. I'd forgotten just how stunning the sight and sound of all that gushing water hurtling over the rocks could be. And I soon discovered that Max is far quicker at climbing mountains than I am, as he scampered gaily up ahead, greeting some surprised tourists in his usual exuberant fashion. The path is not only quite steep, but also not very smooth, consisting mostly of gnarled roots and old uneven stone steps. So us mere humans have to take it at a more sedate pace than lively canines.
As we left the forest, the blast of the wind was startling, and I zipped up my coat right to the neck, and pulled my little hat tightly down over my ears. At this saddle before the steep climb to the summit, the trees are on the right, while on the other side of the trail the ground falls away sharply down to the river, little more than a babbling stream. Glancing back, now clear of most of the forest, I stopped to admire the somewhat misty and murky view of Dundrum Bay. Max sat patiently beside me as I perched on a flat rock to eat my BLT (Max got some of the B too), before we set off once more. When the wind blew my hat off and practically knocked me over for the second time, I thought that maybe we really ought to think about turning back. But I tied a scarf around my hat, and decided we would make for the edge of the trees before turning.
We met a very well equipped climber on his descent, who stopped for a brief chat. He admired Max's nimble climbing skills, and warned that he himself had been on all fours at the summit of the mountain, where he'd measured the gusts at 75mph. We all agreed that turning back now was a wise plan.
On the return leg I tried making some of the journey through the trees to provide some shelter from the wind, but the absence of a proper path made my progress slow and painful, crashing through the low branches and occasionally having to back track to get round a fallen tree or little stream. Max had got away from me, and by the time I made it back out of the trees he had completely disappeared. Worse, a mist was rapidly descending.
My heart beat a little faster as I called into the forest, hoping that he hadn't caught himself on something. There was no sound other than the howling of the wind. I continued downhill, re-assuring myself that he always managed to find me. I stopped and called into the forest again. Should I make my way back in and start looking for him? Or just continue my descent? When should I panic, and who was I gonna call?
Then I heard a bark. I cocked my head to one side and strained my ears to try to work out where it was coming from— behind me!!!! Oh no, had he fallen into the river? I followed the sound of barking, and found him down in the little valley, obviously agitated by something. Oh no, you haven't found a dead body have you, I thought, as I called him back to me. Thankfully it turned out to be just a rather raggedy and forlorn looking sheep standing by the river, giving Max the evil eye. We made our way carefully back down the rest of the mountain, though not quite carefully enough, as I slipped a couple of times, grazing my knee and staving a finger. But well done to my Craghoppers winter lined trousers, which not only kept me warm throughout, but withstood my fall and didn't rip!
