There are no cars in the carpark at the foot of the mountain, which probably means there is no one else up there, but there is no turning back now. The first few hundred metres are extremely difficult. The terrain is wet, soggy, marshy peatland with meandering little streams flowing down from the mountain. These make their way eventually to Dunlewey lake, and on via the Clady river to the Atlantic. At last I reach rocky ground and a path hewn out of stone by many thousands of human feet over many thousands of years. In my photo you can see nearby Lough Altan, and in the distance the Atlantic ocean. Inis Bó Finne and Toraigh islands are faintly visible below cloudy skies. Soon I am battered by a fierce rain shower and a howling gale. I shelter behind a rock and put my back to the storm. At moments like this - crouched behind a rock on the side of a mountain while a mini monsoon rages, one has to question the sanity of oneself.  The storm abates after ten minutes though and disappears eastwards towards the Derryveagh mountains. My climb resumes. I ache. I really, really feel like turning back. But I won't.