Maulin

It doesn’t seem that long ago since the prospect of climbing a mountain filled me with fear and trepidation. ‘No, pleeeease don’t make me go! You can’t make me! I won’t!’ Of course they could, and they did. So my siblings and I climbed mountains, mostly under extreme protest. And then … I couldn’t tell you exactly when … something strange happened. I started to, well, like climbing mountains. To climb mountains of my own free will, even.

On Saturday, my lovely sister-in-law and I walked up Maulin. This really was returning to the scene of the crime because Maulin was a popular destination for our forced marches hikes of old.

You start off at Crone car park, just outside Enniskerry.

Then walk up a path through the forest, where bears used to live. At least that’s what my parents told me so obviously it’s true.

The path curls round the mountain and there’s a beautiful view down to the Powerscourt waterfall. You can see it was a bit hazy on Saturday, though it was actually quite warm.

Here’s looking over to Djouce – really a very nice mountain, didn’t deserve to have my sister and me weeping all over it.

The top was very windy, so we didn’t stay long …

... but went down the other side to find somewhere for our picnic. We passed a scout troop on the way – why is there always one awkward kid on his own? Awkward kid, Gillian and I are sure you’ll grow up to be the coolest one of all.

Our picnic (and it was a good one: samosas and biryanis from the Co-operative Food Market, apples and brownies) took place on a piece of mossy grass, sheltered by some evergreens.

And then, almost before we’d really got into our stride, we were back at the car. 2 ½ hours, including picnic. Why did it used to make me cry so much?