A crisp early morning in September.
The mist shimmering over the lakelets as I drive the winding road north from my base in Roundstone.
A night of fitful sleep the night before worrying through the walk ahead as I face what I know are steep unforgiving slopes protecting the Dam of Satan and her offspring.
I need not have worried.
I park in the little layby hugging the edge of the N59, backing my trusty Renault into as safe and small a footprint as I can, not wishing to prevent others the chance to pullover here and ooh and ah at the majesty of God's own country.
And I'm off, over the fence and heading East to meet the beast herself.
The vegetation is handy going, grass shorn by the blackfaces that live hereabouts and I keep myself ever upward minding the big ravine to my left.
An hour and a little later and it's well Wow! I'm on a ridge that really shouts pure class. I take a left, careful not to miss my main event today, the VL that is the Far North Top. Now I've only 10 to go!
I volte face and head South, the whole ridge rising and falling in front of me, daring me to come on, I almost dance with pleasure as the sun gives me a boost and propels me on with her energy.
This top, the North Top could be one of many along here but who cares, the ups and downs are kind and easy and every knoll is worth topping out on so it wont be missed.
My biggest problem is the views, stupendous, vertiginous, crazily beautiful mountains are all around, even the cranky old hag queen Mweelrea has thrown off her seemingly perpetual cloak of mist and gloom and sits atop her throne above the mirrored fjord holding court over the great and good of Galway and Mayo. I keep my feet though despite watching for safe footfall and drooling around about me at the vista.
I find myself, a brace of hours in, at the summit cairn of the mother herself, pinching myself as to how I've done this walk so quickly despite the ascent. I take a moment to take in a positive recharge to my mental state, to get me through the long dark teatime of the soul that is winter ahead.
Reality again strikes, for a brief moment I toy with the idea of pushing on to the South top, it looks ok, there’s a grand spur off it takes one down to the N59 again, but I falter, I've given my route to herself and what if something happens? I’ll play it safe.
A little navigating needed now despite the clarity around me, the correct way off to the spur I need requires me to think clearly for a few minutes, but thankfully I get a good vector and I'm off, downhill, sharply at first, but then the slope becomes kinder and before I know it I'm down again on the N59, the Leenane side of the C of I church at Aasleagh.
Half an hour on the tarmac and I'm reunited with my carriage and happily running an eye around the skyline on a potential top ten walk.
Thank you Devilsmother...
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