By Sean Fagan
“Let us step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure.
J.K. Rowling
Recently I've been thinking about what makes an adventure.
I can only answer for myself and my answer comes in two, connected parts.
Firstly, adventure should be something that challenges you. The second, related part - is exposing yourself to the unexpected.
Whether you’re walking, paddling or cycling through wild places - along with camping in such places - you expose yourself to the unpredictable. In effect, you're breaking away from your everyday life and becoming part of something vast and unpredictable - nature.
And out there, in nature - unforeseen events are always unfolding.
What gets me sometimes is - a lot of the unexpected is funny, if not downright comical.
Adventure doesn't have to include the grandiose, the grand spreading vistas, the conquering of many miles of challenging terrain.
Adventure is also about moments, often unexpected moments - that fill us with something good.
A Damp Summer Trip
I often camp in various locations throughout the west of Ireland.
The mountains, the old woods, the vast bogs and of course - the magnificent Atlantic coastline of west Ireland make it an amazing spot for wild camping.
However, the biggest issue with west Ireland is the rain!
It’s no joke. I’ve been on camping trips in west Ireland during winter - where I’ve woken up to rain and literally three days later - it stops.
During winter - the pattern of weather is often heavy rain showers interspersed with light rain showers (‘soft rain’ as the locals often call it) - occasionally interrupted with a few, mostly brief dry spells.
But on a good day, west Ireland is simply magical - so I’m not complaining.
Although rain is very much a part of winter in west Ireland, it rains far less during summer. Sometimes though, there can be persistent rain in summer.
Recently I had the bad luck of camping in the Burren of west Ireland during what seemed like a relentlessly wet weekend.
My overall goal was to do some landscape photography throughout the rocky landscape of the Burren - but the weather was too rainy to even take out my camera.
To top it all off, after a day out hiking through almost constant rain - I would return to camp - soaking wet and more than a tad miserable.
As luck would have it - near my wild camp in a wood - I accidentally found the derelict remains of an old, abandoned farmhouse. The ruin was roofless - but within the thick stone walls I was wind-sheltered.
At night, I would light a campfire and happily dry myself and my wet clothes. I really enjoyed those nights there, ensconced within those old stone walls.
Thankfully, on one end of this old ruin - a great mass of overhanging ivy hung. Under the ivy I was sheltered from the persistent rain. I could enjoy my campfire without getting wet.
When it comes to living outdoors - it’s often the little things that bring a sense of satisfaction. I can tell you now - warming myself before the hot flames of my campfire - after a long, damp day outdoors, can make any soul glow with gratitude.
My Last Night
So there I was on my last night, sitting before my fire. As I looked at the bewitching firelight shimmer and dance on the nearby leaves of an elderberry and willow tree that grew within the ruins, I was reminded of some words written by the great John Muir…”Each fire-lit night I had nothing to do but look and listen, to see and hear how smooth and changeless the world had become, how indifferent it was to my presence”.
So I sat, content.
As the world became still and hushed, except for a whispering breeze - something stirred.
Out of the deep silence, a sound.
I could hear a heavy, fast thudding sound somewhere outside the ruins, somewhere in the darkness.
It stopped, then the rapid thudding sound erupted again.
Then silence.
Confused, I stood up…trying to see what was happening. I couldn’t see anything.
Then out of the dense darkness - a loud, storting sound!
Ponies!
I knew they were ponies as I had experience of camping near ponies before and was familiar with that loud, snorting sound before.
Ponies will often snort loudly when nervous or displeased - it even seems to have a derisory tone to it.
I took out my head-torch from my backpack - and there in the murky, damp blackness I could see the piercing eye-shine of two ponies. One was quite large - with a beautiful, grey coat mottled with soft white spots. The other pony was considerably smaller, probably a yearling, but also beautiful - with a deep, rich, mahogany coat. They both looked healthy and alert.
They also beamed with an impish curiosity - eager to interact with this stranger that dare intrude upon their kingdom in the dead of night.
I enjoyed watching them galloping back and forth, occasionally pausing to approach me, then bolting off again, with barely contained exuberance. They were having fun, and it was so far, the highlight of my mostly damp camping trip.
And it was totally unexpected. The combination of finding a snug, atmospheric campfire location within the ruins - and interacting with a pair of boisterous ponies - really made my day.
In Ireland, many ponies are somewhat feral, allowed to forage among large tracts of scrub and pasture, especially during the summer months, when supplementary feed is not required.
After a while hunger called, so I went back to my campfire. I took out some cheese, ham and bread and enjoyed some simple sandwiches - before the steady, reassuring heat of my campfire.
The fire reached its peak - so much so that the great stone walls within the ruin became illuminated. The walls exuded great character, covered in small spider webs, a few spreading roots of ivy, a bird nest neatly tucked into a sizable crack in the wall.
Outside the ruin - the ponies continued to run around - but they were slowing down. Eventually - all was quiet again - except for the gentle rustle of leaves overhead and the patter of light rain.
Before the last orange embers of my fire smouldered away into oblivion - I put my food into a plastic bag and securely tucked away my bag into a thick tangle of ivy branches, about 5 feet above the ground.
I was warm, dry, rested and well-fed…and just as importantly, amused and pleasantly surprised by the antics of two playful ponies. It was a nice way to end a tiring, wet day.
I slept well.
The Next Morning
The next morning, I was awoken with birdsong and the reassuring rays of a rising sun filtering through the tree canopy.
I got up early and made my way to the ruins to enjoy a quick breakfast and get about exploring the surrounding lands.
I lit a small fire to warm myself up as it was a little chilly.
With much enthusiasm I went to get my food bag.
I couldn't find it!
Deeper and and more frantically, I probed my arm into the ivy branches. In desperation I kept searching.
Then something made my head turn.
There on the far side of the ruin, was my food bag.
“Damn, a fox!” I blurted out - expecting my food bag to be empty, raided by a red-haired carnivore during the cover of darkness.
When camping in Ireland, I keep my food bag inside my tent at night, as I know from bitter experience - that outside my tent - my food can be opportunistically stolen by a foraging animal.
But last night I got a little complacent and placed my food within the ruins.
As I walked over to my bag, I was fearing the worst - expecting my ham, cheese and bread to have disappeared.
I put my arm into my bag - and pulled out my ham. Then my bread. Then I looked for my cheese. It was gone.
Why would a fox only take the cheese, and not the ham or even the bread?
Ponies!
The ponies came into the doorway of the ruin at night, sniffed around with curiosity - then somehow found my food bag and pulled it out of the ivy.
They then brought the bag to the other side of ruin, removed the cheese and took off into the night - leaving behind the ham and bread.
As if to confirm my rising suspicions, I spotted fresh pony tracks in the soft soil below.
I could only laugh.
As I made my way from my camp to go exploring for the day - I passed the two ponies.
They cast me a cursory glance - then ignored me! They were too busy preening each other - looking rather pleased with themselves. I thought for a second they exuded a certain smugness.
I laughed again.
"Rainstorms will often travel thousands of miles, against prevailing winds, for the opportunity to rain on a tent."
Dave barry
“In nature, nothing is perfect and everything is perfect. Trees can be contorted, bent in weird ways, and they’re still beautiful.”
alice walker
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