Having a cardiac arrest at 20... something

My idea of a hike isn't really a hike at all. In fact it's more like a casual stroll in the wilderness, dressed inappropriately but justified by the fact I have wellies on and am therefore being pratical (they're hunter, incase your interested). It's a look I like to coin as countrival (country/festival) chic. It's compulsory I take my camera with me as I need to document my life constantly to the annoyance of others (except Rachel, who is fabulous and never tires of posing).


Anyway, back to our "hike". We typically wander round, appreciate natures beauty but mostly our own in the form of a country chic photo shoot. I like to think of myself as a photographer and Rachel is an excellent and willing subject. Usually we round up our afternoon with hearty lunch in some quaint country pub. Rachel is normally my accomplice in these expeditions and an excellent one at that I might add, the last time we "hiked" we ended up in Dundrum shopping centre in our "gear" and actually managed to by-pass all exercise altogether progressing on to our country pub. To be fair, the escalator wasn't functioning and we dig have an exhausting trek up and down the stairs of Berskha. My shopping bag was so damn heavy. I include a pic of Rachel and I on one of our most recent hiking trips. 


The point of recalling this magnificent trip is for comparative purposes. This weekend I received an invite from another friend to hike. That friend is Niamh (the ball breaker) O'Loughlin. The first clue I should have ran for my life was when I turned up (at my leisure) for our 10 o clock call (anyone else think she's getting too into her new teaching role). Upon arrival I was informed that I was inappropriately clad and late. Guilt-ridden I hastily changed into something I can only describe as waterproof. I felt like a child who had just broken the good ornament so I sat suspiciously quite and incredibly agreeable in the car as we literally set a new land speed record in a 1990 VW golf to Glendalough. If I thought for one second that was going to be the low point of the day then I can only look back as my little naive self and shake my head in pity.


Check out the little moodboard I've created. How very art director of me- using pictures to tell the story, it does give an indication of the vastness I have travelled, I also like to think of it as proof incase you don't take my word for it. 

According to sources online this Glendalough walk is 9km long, f*ck you online source. Have you ever actually walked this route? Are you purely referring to the distance from the car park to the beginning of the trek? It must be at least 9-fucking-k of an actual climb. Then take into consideration that you're with gym bunny Niamh, her gym bunny friends and Freddie, her psycho ADHD dog. My only saving grace came in the form of Grainne (the smoker) with whom I formed the deepest bond of my life. At one point when I thought I was going into cardiac arrest a pair of (at least) 70yr old ole biddies passed us on the climb and sympathetically patted my back using the words "go easy pet, it's a terrible climb", with which I immediately responded with a lie mumbling the word asthma.

I do have to admit though that I really loved the day. Having got over the shock of the climbing Everest on 4hours sleep and a hangover the down hill process was a breeze. I got some sweet pics and the opportunity to try out my new lens- see here and best of all 

I had thee most delicious soup from Avoca followed by a heated cinnamon scone with cream and jam. Nothing builds up an appetite like a walk/hike/trek/expedition in the country.