Enniskerry camping adventure

In order to prepare for our backpacking excursion, we thought it would be in order to have a camp out trial-run with our new equipment. We had orginally set out for Bray Head but were forced to reroute after being discouraged by the NO CAMPING signs. As I don't fancy the concept of coincidences, I was thrilled when we arrived in the wooded haven of Enniskerry. The town itself provided eye candy of shops and store fronts, all wrapped around the focal monument in the center. Beyond the town stood thick forest and mountains nestled in the distance. We were in an Irish wonderland.

With our packs and a rough map sketched out by Constances' host father, we made our way to the outskirts of town. We passed by a stone church with a well manicured cemetary in the front, spotted with trees so large and resembling knotted rope wrapped around to take a cylinder form. The map led us to the narrow path we were to take, which separated two pastures on either side. We were granted an occasional break in the overgrown shrubs for a view of the rolling farms with houses sprinkled along those mountains just out of reach.

Seeing as though we got a late start into Enniskerry, we had to march on for daylight was running low. To save time we picked up dry sticks we found, only to get them tangled up in the prickers that greeted us on the edges of the path. We managed to hold on to our loot, knowing the likelihood of finding dry firewood further into the forest and building a fire was nill.

After hiking what seemed to be a mile or longer, we decided to abandon the path and set up camp in the nearest clearing. We quickly assigned duties, and Deanna and I hastily threw our tent together, often glancing at the sky to calculate how much scarce daylight we had remaining. I knew it would get dark sooner deep in the woods, but Constance remained patient with her fire and pretty soon she had one lit. In what seemed to be record time, the three girls from Northwest PA (ironic, I know) managed to set up a decent camp.

We celebrated with PB and J's and granola, telling stories and singing old songs as we crouched around our fire. I felt right at home. The route we had taken and the scenery had reminded me of my woods at home, complete with the nearby creek and "sissy way". Deanna's words, "We're camping in Ireland" was the only thing that allowed me to differentiate. Eventually we killed the fire and settled into our sleeping bags for the night. It was just barely 9:00pm. We giggled and called each other old lady, but we all knew how tired we really were after our big day. During the night the cold ground and creek's chill crept up on us, making us stir and shift through extreme differences in body temperature. Granted, it is February, but that's precisely why it was a trial run. I'll mark it in my book as a success, but there's always room for improvement. Like having mats to sleep on and more daylight in our favor.