22nd February 2021 is a day that I won’t forget. It was a day that I never, ever expected to have and one I don’t plan on repeating!

A whole year has passed and I kept meaning to write about what happened, but never ended up sitting down to do it. I wasn’t actually sure I could quite articulate the words if I’m honest. Initially I was so embarrassed about what happened, so naive too. I’d been majorly caught off guard and I wasn’t sure I wanted to make my mistake public! However, I learned valuable lessons in the hills that day and important information that could help someone else someday. I fully understood the reality of what I thought I’d always known in my head but never actually experienced - conditions can change in an instant. You need to be prepared for all eventualities. Needless to say, I was wholly unprepared!

So without further ado, there is no better time to mark losing my way in the Mournes than now - 365 days later. Sorry it has taken me so long!

~

It is not a rare thing for me to frequent the hills solo. I started hiking by myself several years back, when I was working from home. I had flexibility (while Phoebe was at school) to head to the hills spontaneously, if a window of weather or opportunity presented itself.

Aside from having solo hiked before, I’ve been trekking in the Mournes with my Dad since I was small and having recently completed the Mourne Wall Challenge - I felt like I had a good grasp of my bearings in the hills. I knew how to use a compass and read a map - something that was a necessity in order to achieve my Duke of Edinburgh Awards.

So if I’m being brutally honest, the idea of getting ‘lost’ in the Mournes was never really something that was on my radar. I feel ridiculous writing that statement now! But I did always feel like I was very careful about solo hiking. Before any hike, I religiously check the weather forecast. I don’t use the word ‘religiously’ lightly here either. I will always check and re-check the forecasts - Met Office, My Weather 2 and Mountain Forecast. I am not one for taking unnecessary risks - ever. But, the forecast was wrong on this day.

It all started so well. After a delicious sausage roll and coffee from Urban in Castlewellan, I parked the car at Meelmore Lodge and headed towards Trassey Track at around noon.

The sun was shining. The sky was clear and blue. Conditions were perfect as I made my way towards Hare’s Gap.

I had plenty of daylight and was making good time, arriving at Hare’s Gap at 12.45pm.

I could clearly see my route up and over Slievenaglogh, Corragh and Commedagh (I would go on to also squeeze a climb up Donard!), and the Brandy Pad loop back to Hare’s Gap.

For the most part, my solo hikes to this date had been very ‘safe’. I’d traverse well-known routes, sticking close to the Mourne Wall etc. Although I’d walked the Brandy Pad before, it had been quite some time and I’d never done it solo. On a clear day, you can’t miss it. But when the clouds roll in, I can assure you, it becomes much more tricky!

I’d decided to tackle the climbs in the first part of the hike (always a wise decision before the legs get too tired) and enjoyed the beautiful route up and over the 3 peaks I have mentioned above. The views from anywhere along this route are simply stunning - Bearnagh towers in the distance, Ben Crom Reservoir sparkles in the sun, and the Annalong Valley sweeps down towards the sea.

You really can’t go wrong along this section of the Mourne Wall either as it guides you up and over the 3 peaks from either starting point - Hare’s Gap or the saddle between Donard and Commedagh).

You can see from the picture above that it was a little more misty by the time I’d made it to the summit of Commedagh (14:09), but it isn’t unusual for cloud to hang around on the summits of the higher peaks. I was obviously feeling good and confident that day as I chose to squeeze a jaunt up and down Donard before turning at the saddle and looping back to Hare’s Gap.

I’d made it to the summit of Donard at 14:50 (snagging a wee PB for the climb also!), but by the time I’d descended back down to the saddle, the clouds had descended too. This picture below was taken at 15.28 and shows as much as I could see of the Brandy Pad in front of me. I couldn’t see very much indeed.

I am confident that the weather forecast hadn’t mentioned low cloud, mist or fog. I would have accounted for it and adjusted my route accordingly if it had. No unnecessary risks - remember? I began debating with myself about the cloud - how thick and dense it was, how likely it was that it would lift etc. More and more questions flooded my mind - would I be able to navigate my way through the fog and along the Brandy Pad? Would I be better to retrace my footsteps back up and over the 3 peaks? If I were to go back up and over, would I have enough energy and strength in my legs to get me back before I lost daylight? I distinctly remember standing alone at the saddle, feeling betrayed by the weather and bewildered because of the sudden loss of visibility. My confidence began to wane.

I had a decision to make at this point. Either I trusted the Brandy Pad path that lay ahead - not visible to the eye, but I hoped, would be visible enough underfoot. Or I trusted my stamina and legs to carry me back up and over 3 peaks before the Mournes turned dark.

Despite the multitude of questions and ‘what ifs’ in my head, I don’t remember taking a long time to make my decision - it probably wasn’t even 5 minutes. I never spend too long stopped in the hills when I’m on my own, especially when the weather is poor. I decided to still plough on and go via my original route - in spite of the cloud - along the Brandy Pad back to Hare’s Gap. In hindsight, I wouldn’t make this same decision again.

Looking back, I don’t quite know why I made the choice that I made in that moment. Well maybe I do know actually. I know that I obviously didn’t trust that my physical body would carry me quickly enough back up and over 3 mountains in a shorter time than I’d already climbed. I’d been feeling really good physically up until this point, so I assumed that the chances of being quicker on tired legs was slim. I was probably wrong about this. It is amazing what the body can do when you put your mind to it, but I wasn’t at major panic mode at this point so laziness outweighed the thought of having to climb 3 mountains to get me home, having had already just climbed 4!

In that moment, the Brandy Pad route seemed like the simplest, shortest and easiest option. How wrong I was!

Hindsight is a wonderful thing, isn’t it? I sit here, writing about my experience with the knowledge gained from said experience. Now armed with this knowledge, my actions and choices would be so very different. Decisions seem so very simple at this side of things and I look back and wonder why on earth I did what I did. But can I tell you something … in the middle of the Mournes, alone, with poor visibility and losing light … you do all you can do to keep safe in that moment. I was wholly unprepared for the situation I had suddenly found myself in. I had no compass or map, no head torch or bivvy bag. I walked blindly (quite literally) into the fog and naively assumed I’d follow the path underfoot the whole way to Hare’s Gap. What I didn’t know was that I wouldn’t ever make it back to Hare’s Gap at all.

Within minutes of walking into that thick, low cloud I should have known to turn back immediately and get to the safety of the wall. I had started to feel uneasy now and couldn’t shake it off. Visibility was down to zero and I prayed that I would meet someone along the path. I felt that this would calm my nerves and assure me that I was still on the right path. This was the last photo that I took (15.34) before things took a turn for the worst …