Certainly no molehill

I climbed the below mo-fo last Sunday during a weekend in Donegal. I’d lie if I said the walk wasn’t tough. At times I was on all fours, crawling across loose scree. The highlight of the walk (for me) was Kevin falling into a bog hole. I laughed hard as I helped him out. The lowlight of the walk (and highlight for everyone else) was me falling into a bog hole not once, but twice. No one helped me. Everyone was too busy doubling over in laughter. I was immobile; stuck in bog muck up to my shins. The level of laughter increased when I tried to pull a leg out only to topple over onto my hands. I was not even out of the car ten minutes at this stage. I washed my hands in a stream and attempted my ascension with wet socks and squelchy boots.



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