Up, up ...

... and away

I don’t mean to boast (ahem) but on Sunday I completed my first mountain climb. It probably constitutes a baby in the eyes of serious climbers but I was just pleased and relieved that I got to the top and then down in one piece again which, I can assure you, was not easy at times.

The mountain in question was Lurig which forms a backdrop to the town of Cushendall in the glens of Antrim. As you’ll see from the photos below, the scenery is stunning. It obviously helped that we had a lovely day with no rain, hail or snow. (It’s Northern Ireland so it’s quite possible to experience all three within the space of a morning or afternoon). It wasn’t even windy.

My two other companions and I were guided up the mountain by Cecil from a group calling itself The Antrim Rambler. Although he only goes out at weekends, he seems to have climbed every hill in Ireland and a few mountains in Scotland as well. I was impressed.

We started from the car park beside the beach in the town and walked a couple of miles to the path leading to the base of the hill. Up until then, I’d been pretty blase thinking that I was easily fit enough to do the climb. From there, however, it looked pretty daunting.

By the time we were about half way up, I really began to worry about my fitness levels. My calves were burning and I started to feel sick. It was so steep in places that I had to get down on all fours and pull myself forward by holding onto clumps of the thick grass that covers the mountainside to keep myself from falling backwards. That went on for a good 15 minutes or so. Well, that might be an exaggeration but it certainly seemed to go on for ever.

By this stage, I was convinced that I would never get to the top of that thing (it was no longer a hill, it was now an inanimate and hateful “thing”). All I could see was Cecil in the distance walking along as though he was out for a Sunday stroll. And, honestly, if you ever met him you would think he would be more at home propping up the side of a bar. Yet here he was, jumping about like a feckin’ mountain goat.

After a particularly steep section, the incline eased up a bit and I was able to stand more or less upright. It was at that point that we met two runners coming down the hill. Yep, they had run the whole way up and were now on their way back down. They stopped for a quick chat (as people here often do) mostly to reassure me that I wasn’t far from the top which I thought was rather sweet.

In the course of the conversation, it transpired that one of them had completed the annual Lurig run the previous year. Known as the craziest race in Ireland, runners start off in the main street of Cushendall at the Curfew Tower. After a short distance, they go up a sharp incline and a set of steps after which they follow a mile long farm track to the base of the mountain. Then comes the real fun when they race to the top of Lurig before they (literally) scramble back down and along the farm track again for the sprint (or otherwise) to the finish in the village, just under six kilometres in total.

However mad you have to be to do the race, the views from the top are truly stunning as long as the weather is kind. If it rains or the mist comes down, it’s difficult to see anything according to Cecil. I can tell you that if I’d climbed that mountain only to see endless banks of cloud and mist, I would not have been happy.

Instead, I was lucky enough to see wonderful views of sunlight coming through the clouds, lighting up the fields below at different angles. It was at that point that I started to think it might all have been worth it. It also helped that I was able to sit down and have some lunch in time to recover for the downward journey.

While we were sitting at the top, a couple of farmers and their collie dogs came ambling by. I was amazed and impressed by how relaxed they looked until one of our group spotted the quad bike they’d used to come two thirds of the way up. We then saw them at the very top herding a couple of dozen sheep back down. It was fascinating to watch the dog as it followed the commands from its owner to the letter and got those sheep quickly down the mountainside to the fields below.

In terms of height, different websites provide slightly conflicting measurements for Lurig, but according to a page on the Antrim History site, it’s 1154 feet. As with the other mountains in the area, it was created by volcanic activity. On the top are the remains of fortifications which covered about 40 acres at one point in time. These forts (known as raths in Irish) are thought to have been permanent settlements constructed by Bronze Age people (2500-500BC) and then also used by the Iron Age Celts (500BC) who didn’t start building their own raths until about 500 AD.

Having got to the top, we obviously had to get back down which was not easy as the path that Cecil followed was extremely steep. The only way to get down without falling over was to walk sideways like crabs. We then picked up the farm track which I assume is the one that the runners come along during the race and walked back into Cushendall. All in all we were out for about three and a half hours.

To put that in perspective, the first of the 360 runners who took part in the Lurig race completed the course in just under half an hour. How is that physically possible? Even the last person only took just over an hour and a half but then again, I assume she didn’t stop for a chat followed by lunch.