me and a few friends were out doing our Chief Scouts Platinum hike in our wee countries 'wee' mountains of Mourne. Chief scouts platinum is the equivalent to Duke of Edinburgh bronze (except the required hiking distance is longer cuz duke of ed candidates are pussies and scouts are hard as nails XD). Our first day we decided to take a 'shortcut', and instead of going around Eagle mountain, we ploughed right over it XD then we conquered the very long and tiring Pigeon Rock (who the fuck named these mountains?!) before crossing over the Mourne wall and descending the slope to the road. we followed the roads to our camp site at the Ponderosa and fired up the Trangia and cooked up some pasta =] We were very sore and tired but we got a decent nights sleep. the next morning we got some noodles, packed up the tent and set off on our return journey up the Trassey track and over the Hares Gap (again with the weird placenames!) we were making excellent time and our spirits were flying high! we then looked at the map and took what we thought was our route around the mountains, it wasnt our route, we were supposed to follow the wall to the road but the wall wasnt on the map and we ended up on an immensely steep steep slope, 700 metres above sea in the pouring rain and hail, freezing cold, with very thick fog surrounding us. it seemed like all hope was lost. Me, Matthew, Barry and Naimh were so terrified that we wouldnt get off of the mountain, we phoned mountain rescue and gave them our rough coordinates, we were then contacted by several police stations to ensure that we weren't taking the piss and wasting time, then the coastguard phoned to tell us that a ground team had been dispatched as well as a search and rescue helicopter. At this point two adults, David and Sophia joined us cause they were also cold and just wanted to get off the mountain. The helicopter came over the peak off the mountain and hovered over us. The ground team's scout reached us a short time later and turned down the helicopter (the coast guard were PISSED to say the least, Dublin to Newcastle is a fair wee flight, id say from 100 - 200 miles, but i couldn't say for sure). The rest of the ground team arrived and helped us back to the Trassey track, where me, Matt, Barry, Naimh and Sophia (David offered to walk as he wasn't as tired and cold as us) were loaded into a 4x4 and taken down the track to Matthews parents, who had been waiting and worrying since 4 o'clock (it was now nearly 9). We gave the mountain rescue our details and contacted our parents to let them know that we were okay. It was a terrifying experience, and not one that I'll forget any time soon. I'm just glad to be home safe and sound now =]
Shitty excuse for a footpath, 900m, Wales. Our Silver DoE was like 21km + 28km + 20km, which was unnessessarily long, especially for late October when it got dark at like 6.30pm - we finished at 9.30pm once D:. Getting stuck in a peat bog though, is as fun as hell after it's all over. Wouldn't like to get to the point where mountain rescue was needed mind. Most of my fondest memories come from outdoorsy things like this that seem terrible when you're actually there. Oh and btw, Wildboarclough, Flash, Bakewell (though this one just annoys me) and Flagg? Hills called Height, Gun, "High Low" (no, seriously), Wire Stone, Cloud, Big Moor, Slipp'er Low, Lost Lad, Britain's Plantation, High Field? our place names are incredible, and so inspired. There's also these mountains in the lake district called Little Cockup and Great Cockup, yay for immaturity <3.
