April 7, 2009: Once upon a time.....

Twenty three years ago (or thereabouts), a young man and a pretty young woman took a walk in the woods. The woods were set on the side of a hill which stood as part of a collection of mountains. The man and the woman often visited the woods, they liked to walk the trails, and he had spent considerable time walking over many of the mountains beyond this particular hill. On this day however, the man and the woman did not walk far into the woods, rather, they stopped at a point by a mountain stream that provided a breathtaking view of the seaside town below, and the wide expanse of the bay beyond. There, they watched the world in its harmony, and there, with the setting sun shining across the bay, the young man asked the young woman to marry him.

Today, twenty three years later, we took the kids to that same stream in Donard Park, at the foot of the Mourne Mountains.

The weather reports were for all sorts of raining pestilence, but undeterred, we set off anyway. Sure what's a little rain, after all?

The drive to Newcastle was nostalgic in and of itself. I've seen that drive from the back seat of Roy Greer's red mini, Dave Close in the front passenger seat and Alan Mateer beside me, backpacks stuffed in around and on top of us, Marillion, Pink Floyd, Tangerine Dream, Barclay James Harvest, Deep Purple or whoever else that Close had picked up on cassette that week blaring from tinny speakers as we hi-tailed it from Donaghadee to the mountains on any given Sunday morning at Good-Grief-What-the-Hell-time-is-this-to-be-out o'clock for a days hill walking or climbing. I've cycled from my house to the mountains with Scouts and youth groups. I've done the drive myself more times than I can remember. It doesn't matter, that view of the mountains from Tyrella beach along Dundrum Bay of Newcastle and "the Mountains of Mourne sweeping down to the sea" to paraphrase Percy French, never ever gets old.

The Mournes aren't really mountains, technically; it's more like Mourne MOUNTAIN and a bunch of very large Mourne hills, but bugger that, they seem like mountains when you're on 'em.

The clouds sat low today, and oftentimes the peak of Slieve Donard (the tallest peak) was obscured by the cold damp mists. It's been years since I was last on the top of Donard, but I remember 1) the view of Dundrum bay was out of this world; and 2) when the mist was down like that it was brass-monkey weather! Brrrr!

We parked in Donard Park, and trekked up through the trees for a while, pausing to take in the woods, the immensity of some of the trees, and of course the view of Dundrum, far below us. Northern Ireland is doing a great job in trying to entice me back with its beauty, and today, in spite of the cold, it pulled out all the stops. I lost track how long I sat at one point by the same stream Elaine and I stopped at twenty three years ago.

We made our way into Newcastle from the forest park, and found a cafe for lunch. Conor spent some time later poking through the rocks on the flats of Dundrum Bay. The bay itself is pretty shallow, so the tide goes out quite far. The shoreline is a coarse sand, and the tideline floor is a wide expanse of stones, pebbles and shells.

When it was time to return to the car, Conor told me he wanted to stay. I told him we couldn't, but not without muttering "so do I" under my breath first.

The rain that was promised held off until we got to Tollymore Forest Park. We sat in the car, with Elaine assuring us "it would blow over". For a long time it looked like it wasn't going to, but the rain eased off for just long enough for us to leap out of the car and take a quick walk around the gardens.

Newcastle, Castlewellan, and the whole Mourne district hold a lot of good memories for me. A long drive, but definitely worth it, I'm glad we worked it into the trip. Tomorrow: The Cultra Folk Museum and the Ulster Transport Museum!