Getting up before 6am on a Saturday in winter to drive 2 hours to the mountains is no one’s idea of fun. On top of this, my music player is currently broken, so our recent trips to the Mournes have been soundtracked by whatever CD or radio station we can find. There is something particularly disheartening about driving in the dark, through rain, listening to ‘Africa’ by Toto while most other sensible people are asleep in bed. It is always worth it though, especially the second of two trips this January which turned into one of the toughest and most thrilling mountain days I have had in Ireland.

For our first January visit we completed a sweet little walk over Eagle Mountain (638m). We began along an old mine track from the 1800s and climbed up to Windy Col, before following the Batt’s Wall to the summit and returning along the ridge. This was a dry but bitter sort of day with the kind of cold that bites at your eyeballs, numbs the roots in your teeth and makes inside your nose sting. Mercifully, we had a steady supply of hot tea and Christmas cake for morale which was particularly needed on the exposed and windy summit.

About five years ago I stood in the Lake District on a clear day and could see Ireland across the water. This was my first sighting of the country I now live in, although back then I was just excited about the idea of visiting it one day. It was fun to stand in a similar situation there on Eagle Mountain, this time looking back across the water to see England and thinking about my past and where I could maybe live in the future. Despite not being the tallest mountain, the views here are some of the best that we have seen in Northern Ireland. There is an impressive 365 degree vista that takes in the larger surrounding mountains, Carlingford, the Cooleys, the Belfast Hills and the Irish Sea. It’s a pretty big bonus for a relatively easy walk.

We returned to the Mournes two weeks later for a completely different experience, thanks to the heavy snow that had fallen all through the preceding week. Our plan was to have a real adventure: using ice axes to hike up the steep southern side of Slieve Binnian (747m). This was a plan that was easily made in the warmth and comfort of my home but once I was finally standing in the snow on Wee Binnian (460m), looking up at a path that disappeared with a forbidding gradient into thick white clouds, I must admit to feeling pretty intimidated.

Progress up the 300m slope was made by a combination of kicking steps into the snow and, when rocks became unavoidable, using the adze on the axe to clear a path and chip away any sheet ice. It was hard going but satisfying, even as the visibility dropped and we stepped into the clouds. The top section of the route was particularly spicy as we had to scramble up onto an ice covered rock step to reach the gap between summit tors. It suddenly felt very remote and, as the snow got heavier and started to flurry around us, visibility was so poor that we needed the map and compass to work out where to go next.

After topping out we had to circumnavigate the summit tor to gain the broad ridge between Slieve Binnian and North Tor, heading towards an easy descent route. This was a little bit sketchy as huge hidden slabs lay parallel to the slope. These slabs were covered with thick ice and disguised with an inch or two of powdered snow, rendering them invisible until stepped on. At one point I slipped and had to move into position to arrest my fall with the axe. I slid about 10m down the slope, clearing a body’s width of snow off the icy slab until I reached the thicker snow-covered ground below, where I finally came to a halt. I joked about successfully finding the quickest and most efficient way down but, secretly, I was relieved once we were back on easier ground.

There is something magical about unbroken snow stretching out like an unwritten page, without a single footstep on it. During our ascent the snow was unbroken as far as the eye could see in every direction bar our own tracks. We arrived on the ridge just in time for the clouds to clear and it was only here that we finally met some other people. Based on the well-worn tracks in the snow, most of them had come up the much easier tourist route, which would be our descent. This at least gave us a track to follow down to the valley. Snow clung to the slopes of the surrounding mountains and dense white clouds hung around the tops of some of the peaks making for a dramatic vista above Silent Valley. It was cold enough that by the time we got back to the car ice had formed on the windows and we had to defrost them before setting off home.

I suffer from mild seasonal depression but the adventures this January are helping me to learn to love winter. Being in fresh air, in the countryside, and seeking out new challenges is as good for my mental health as it is for my physical fitness. The Mourne Mountains are one of the best places we have found in Ireland and I am absolutely stoked to think of the other adventures (both hiking and climbing) that we can have in these hills over the coming year.

Both these walks were taken from Northern Ireland: A Walking Guide by Helen Fairbairn.