With no excursions planned this weekend, the wall was whitewashed just begging for a new mural. In Connemara National Park, one of the most gorgeous areas in Ireland, there are many mountains. One of these mountains, the highest at 612m tall, was just screaming at us to climb it. So, of course, that's exactly what we did. I arranged with Lally's bus service to drop us off in Maam Cross, a small town near the base of the mountain, and then we headed for the summit. It was a tough landscape to traverse with variations between boggy marsh area to sheer rock faces. After rain falls streams emerge all over the mountain pouring from the top towards the lakes below. In the early stages the main goal was to not sink into the moist spots. As the hike progressed it turned into a bit more of a challenge when at some points we faced seventy five degree accents. I should mention, there was absolutely no path to speak of beyond the ones sheep had made when traversing the hillsides. It was a deceiving climb when we neared the top, each peak seemed to be the last until we got to it and realized that there was a higher point. Finally we saw it, a pile of rocks marked the top of the mountain. After adding our own rocks to the pile and stopping for a few pictures and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, we headed back towards the bottom. This presented a far greater task in that descending down slippery, wet, soft grasses was not easy, nor was trying to slide down rock faces with few foot holds. After reaching the bottom the entire group that joined was very empowered and overjoyed with their accomplishment.
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