On arrival it was still grey, but quite a dark grey in the early stages of dawn. It wasn't wildly promising, but Nuala, Mick and Gerard were all already there so now we really couldn't bail! So we scuttled along the Banns Road into the gloom and crossed our fingers as much as one can on a gloved cold winter's morning. As the altitude increased so did the light levels, initially illuminating the inside of the cloud, until finally we broke though into blue skies and bright daylight. It had been worth getting out of bed after all.
The Banns Road eventually deposited us on the shores of Loughshannagh under the ramparts of Doan, the first objective. We crossed some rough, tussocky ground and found a little path snaking up to the summit crags that I'd never noticed before: never underestimate your ability to locate extra detail in an area you'd thought you knew pretty well. This merged with the (nowadays) motorway that comes to Doan from the Ott direction, and a final sharp climb gained the top.
This was a tough summit to leave, but left it we did. Across the bog (frozen, hurrah) to gain the Mourne Wall under Slieveloughshannagh, then turning left for the plod over Carn to the final summit of Slieve Muck. To our left were cotton wool, sunbeams and Loughshannagh. And if you looked away from the Mournes it was just a monumental layer of fluff, with ridiculously distant high summits nudging through; Sawel and Cuilcagh just as visible as the nearer Slieve Gullion.
It's a sharp drop again from Muck back down to the Banns Road, made slightly spooky by re-entering the clouds on its lower slopes, but it was a Caspar The Friendly Ghost level of spookiness, rather than John Carpenter's The Fog. It was a much cheerier party on the walk down the Road than it had been on the walk up.