I don’t know how to begin this story,
but it is one worth telling. I want to get you in the right mood, but let’s
just start from the very beginning:
From the day I was born I have been
fascinated by heights. Always looked up to the sky and saying to myself “I want
to be up there”. Never been afraid of climbing the highest trees or putting
myself in danger – just to feel the fresh air up in the treetops. I have always
had the eager to climb mountains. High Mountains. This was one of the reasons I
wanted to come here to Northern Ireland – the land of Mountains. I had heard
way back home stories about the Mourne Mountains and Slieve Donard – the giant
peak. I actually choose this place in the world before the chance of going to
Nepal and the Himalaya mountains to live with the Sherpas. Due to my hard work
here in Belfast, my climbing dreams have been put on a hold and I’d spend the
autumn looking dreamlike at the big mountains surrounding Belfast from my windowsill; but
one day when winter started to turn to spring I said (once again, aloud to
myself) “Enough is enough, let’s climb a mountain”.
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| Photo by Samuel Henning. The first part of the climb. |
It was a normal day, not too sunny, but
not too rainy. I woke up early enough to have time to do something with the day
and not just end up staying in bed watching “The Vampire Diaries” as normal. I
said to myself (this is totally normal): “Let us seize the
moment and let us not waste it today with just words and no action”. This day was the day; I was about to climb CAVEHILL. Don’t you be frightened of the word ’hill’ cause this is
just a humble name given by someone who didn’t want to reveal the truth to the
rest of the world of its gigantic size.
I started my journey
from base camp with my small expedition of viking friends whom I had called in
just for this special moment. I had heard before from working collegues
(Bronagh, thanks for telling the truth) that it is going to be a tough journey
on our way to the top. We need to have courage and don’t loose the hope, but
keep in mind that this was something that I had been preparing for a very long
time, so I wasn’t about to give up that easily. We started off with fully
packed packbags and a detailed map of all the routes you could take to the top;
some more dangerous than others. It was a hard choice – should we take the
green, blue or red track. We choosed the green one, the longest and the
hardest.
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| My cicerons Sam and Louise, all the way from Sweden. |
At the beginning it was a pleasent walk.
We started off telling old hiking stories (don’t want to tell you too much, but
it includes a wolf pack and a sausage) and had a good laugh. What we didn’t
expect was the dramatical weather change. From being such a good day, it
started off being really windy and as we came higher up on the mountain we
started to struggle more and more with the wind. I was afraid, I have to admit,
but ”Skam den som ger sig” as we say in Sweden (translated ‘shame on she who gives up’) and I took one meter at a time with the
help from my stave.
The wind came and
the wind left and after a couple of hours we could finally see the top of the
mountain – McArt’s Fort. At this point I was so tired that I begun to cry of
exhausting and happiness. My friend Sam (yes, as in the Lord of the Rings)
helped me up on my legs again and gave me some strenght to carry on.
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| Photo by Samuel Henning. The calm before the storm. |
All of a sudden it
started to rain. But not a normal rain. No, this was like the Niagara falls. I
lost track of time and space, but most of all I lost my cicerones. I walked and
walked without seeing anything cause of all the rain, suddenly I boomed into a
large figure. I was afraid. Could it be Finn McCool? No, but it was definitely
a man. With muscules. I could see his face now. I recognised it. It looked
exactly like Channing Tatum. Weird, but true. And he lifted me up, carried me
to the top and then disappeared. The rain had stopped and I found my friends
sitting beside me. They were worried. I asked them if they had seen ”The tall
musculous half naked man that looked just like Channing Tatum”. They hadn’t. Too bad, but they believed my story.
And we had now entered the top. And we were stunned by the view. And this
moment was a perfect time for me to proclaim the famous words: 'I came, I saw, I conquered’
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| Photo by Samuel Henning. "I came, I saw, I conquered" |
Even though the trip
had been a hard one, struggling with wind and rain, it was all worth it for the
view. To see Belfast from above was a real pleasure and a memory I will bring
with me for a long time. We couldn’t stay for too long because of the lack of
oxygen. A choice we had made to climb without oxygen masks. The way down was
easier. After 20 hours we were safe on the ground again.
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| Photo by Samuel Henning. The giant peak - McArt's Fort |
And this was my
story of the journey up to Cavehill. It was not an easy one to tell, but it was
neccessary. This might be told by my children to their children, and their
children will be telling the story to their children. And this might be going
on in eternity. And I will not be here then; but my story will be told. The
story of how a very brave Swedish girl climbed the gigantic mountain of
Belfast, with her friends, to show the world that even small people can make a
different and that their stories need to be told as well.
