It's strange how content copywriters can set out for the day ahead looking positive and upbeat but then can be smacked full on in the face by the forces of nature. This was what happened to this particular content copywriter when he went to climb Irelands highest mountain.
The dark silhouette of Irelands highest mountain, Carrantuohill, stood over us like an imposing giant as we pulled up to the campsite at 12.30am. Things started to go pear-shaped nearly straight away when to my horror the small two-man tent that Jonny had promised to bring looked more like a 200 person Wedding Marquee.
Jonny, from Belfast, assured me that he was an expert survivalist, turned on the headlights of the car, and began assembling the tent, but It quickly became apparent that he hadn’t a clue what he was at as the tent repeatedly collapsed like a drunk man after a few bottles of whiskey.
Another camper beside us in a pristine perfectly formed tent stuck his smug head out, smirked, and then zipped himself back up into his tent. After about 2 hours of fumbling about we assembled a makeshift sanctuary for the night.
We settled in and got ready for some well-earned sleep. Just as I was about to nod off a piercing cry struck the night air and jolted me wide awake, Baaa, baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. The unmistakable sound of a sheep who began marauding around the campsite and bleating with sadistic venom every few seconds.
At one point I heard a crunching and rummaging sound close to my ear and I realized that the Sheep had developed a taste for the tent and had began dining on it. I clenched my fist in anger and hit the tent a thump which caused the animal to briefly scamper away.
A few minutes later the sound of a Donkey penetrated the night the air, Heehawww heehaaaww. “Oh, for fucks sake!” I heard Jonny saying from the other side of the tent.
Throughout the night the Donkey and the Sheep appeared to be working in union like some perverse sadistic animal orchestra intent on depriving us of any sleep. By the time dawn broke we had gotten zero shut eye and we wearily got our stuff ready for the 3,406 foot trek to the summit of Carrauntoohil.
We hiked up the Devils Ladder and as we made our way up the steep and rocky mountain we began to see some spectacular views of the countryside and stunning views of nearby lakes that sparkled and twinkled like silver in the distance.
After an arduous 4 hour hike, we reached the highest point in Ireland where a huge steel cross marked the cloudy summit. After a brief stay, we began our descent and halfway down my lips began salivating at the thoughts of eating some sizzled sausages. My stomach growled its approval as Jonny took out a small heating stove and frying pan that wouldn’t work. Jonny got the sausages and fired them away with a look of abject disgust on his face.
The two of us, exhausted, staggered down the mountain like zombies. We had conquered our Everest but had been beaten into submission by a Donkey, a Sheep, and a dodgy Stove.
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