12.09.24

Four Peaks

Four mountains. Four provinces. Forty eight hours-ish!

It sounded ambitious, but that was part of the appeal. On a Thursday night, we were on the train to Kerry, ready to begin our attempt to climb the highest peak in each province in forty-eight hours.

Our group, The Dawn Bombers, were brought together by performance psychologist — and good friend — Gerry Hussey. During the highs and lows of Covid, we met at dawn on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays for a mix of running, swimming, boxing, hiking and yoga. Training together at sunrise through the stillness of those mornings was nourishment for the mind, body and soul. Over time, we became a close-knit group and lasting friendships formed.

Earlier that summer we’d climbed two of the four peaks and loved it. In August, someone suggested we try all four in one go.

Carrauntoohil

The alarm went off at 5am and an hour later, our motley crew stood at the base of Carrauntoohil, Ireland’s highest peak. It looked majestic in the morning light and our spirits were high.

We climbed via the Devil’s Ladder — a steep, direct route that shortens the ascent. With the help of our able guide, John Cluskey, we reached the summit before 10am. As we arrived at the peak, the skies were clear and we were treated to a spectacular view stretching endlessly over the surrounding peaks.

We descended via a route known as the Zig Zags — a longer path which is easier on the legs but with a few narrow sections and a sheer drop to one side. As someone with a very healthy fear of heights, this was a tricky part for me! Arriving back at base at 3pm, we piled into the mini-bus Mayo-bound.

Mweelrea 

We overnighted in Westport and early the next morning we met our guide, [Henry], grabbed strong coffees, and set off for Mweelrea — Connacht’s highest point.

The climb began gently but soon turned steep and boggy. After three hours on the mountain, we reached the summit. The views were once again spectacular. Killary Fjord curving below us, the Atlantic stretching endlessly west, the Twelve Bens glinting in the distance, and Croagh Patrick rising across Clew Bay. It was another flawless day.

We made it back down shortly after lunch, legs a little heavy but spirits remaining high. There wasn’t much time to rest. After a quick change of socks and a sandwich on the go, we were back on the road heading northeast for County Down. The minibus became our mobile café - between snacks and naps, the miles slipped by.

Slieve Donard 

We reached the base of Slieve Donard just before midnight. It was cold and quiet. Head torches on, we started up the dark trail, our laughter and chat echoing through the forest. As we climbed the temperature dropped and the silhouette of the mountain loomed like a shadow against the moonlit sky.

Climbing at night is a strange experience — your world reduced to a narrow beam of light, the rhythm of footsteps and breath. Around half one in the morning, we reached the summit somewhat battered by wind and cold. From the top, we were treated yet again to another spectacular view — the moon casting a soft path of light across the sea below. After a few quick photos, a shared sense of relief, and we turned for home.

Our descent was slow and we arrived back to base at shortly before 4am. None of us could decide whether to sleep or keep going, so we did a bit of both as the bus rolled south towards Wicklow.

Lugnaquilla 

By the time we reached the base of Lugnaquilla, we were running on fumes. The sun was out again, but conversation had dwindled to brief chats between stretches of silence.

The climb felt endless. Every ridge revealed another one above it. We found a rhythm — one foot in front of the other. Eventually, the summit cairn came into view, and fatigue gave way to quiet relief. Four peaks, forty-eight hours-ish!  At the peak, we took our final group photo – tired, a little sun burnt and still smiling!

Looking back

Looking back, it’s hard to pinpoint what made the weekend so special. Maybe it was the shared effort, the laughter, or the conversations that only happen when you’re a long way from home and running on little sleep. Maybe it was the quiet strength of the group — the mix of determination and kindness that carried us through.

It wasn’t easy: two days of little rest, sore legs, and questionable nutrition! But it was full of heart. Somewhere on the way down from Lugnaquilla, I realised it wasn’t really about the peaks. It was about people — the friendships built through early mornings and shared challenges with the Dawn Bombers, and the quiet satisfaction of seeing something through together.

In the end, we raised just under €18,000 for two very worthy charities — The Jack & Jill Foundation and LauraLynn.